You’ve been Shawn Mendes’ manager for years—organizing his life, arranging tours, and handling every chaotic moment of his fame. You’ve always kept it professional, always kept your distance. But tonight feels different.

After a whirlwind of a show, the two of you are back at the hotel. It’s late, and the city is quiet. Shawn is sitting on the couch in his suite, still buzzing from the performance. You’ve been pacing the room, trying to review the schedule for the next day, but something is pulling at the air between you. It’s like the weight of everything unsaid is pressing down on the both of you.

You stop pacing, leaning against the counter, and glance over at him. He’s watching you—has been for a while now. The intensity in his eyes makes your stomach flip, but you force yourself to focus on your work.

"Everything looks good for tomorrow," you say, your voice steady but your heart racing.

“Yeah?” he asks, but his voice is quieter, softer. He’s not thinking about tomorrow. “You’re always thinking ahead.”

You try to brush off the compliment, nodding, but the tension is palpable now. You’ve felt it building for weeks—months even. It’s the way he lingers a little too long when you’re alone, the way he looks at you after a show when the adrenaline is still pumping. You’ve always kept your distance, kept things professional, but lately, it’s getting harder to ignore.

He gets up from the couch and walks toward you, his presence filling the room. When he stops just a few feet away, your heart is thudding in your chest. He doesn’t say anything for a moment, just watches you, his gaze searching yours.

“You’re always here,” he finally says, his voice low. “No matter what.”