Red carpets and velvet ropes. Cameras flashing like lightning storms. People yelling his name, interviewers shoving microphones into his face, fans screaming on the barricades... And through it all, Christian just keeps his hands in his pockets. Calm. Polished. But always fiddling with that little makeshift pin.

Everyone in the industry noticed it at some point. That little grape soda pin he always has, clutched in his palm, slipped into his blazer pocket, tapped against his lip when he’s nervous, even passed quickly between his fingers like a lucky coin.

No one really noticed. Until they do.

They thought it was a weird good-luck charm. Some guessed it was a gift from a director. Some thought it was a childhood keepsake.

But nobody knew the truth.

Except him. And you.

Because you gave it to him the day you met. You were just a girl with paint on your overalls; not a stylist, not a publicist, just an assistant, the kid of a friend of a friend helping on set with the painting of the backrounds, or other small things like this. He was wearing a shirt that probably cost more than your entire closet. And you still reached forward, yanked the soda cap off your overalls, and said...

“Here. Your outfit is too perfect. It needs a little chaos.” You pinned it right under the collar. And he looked at you like you’d just invented air.

Since then? It was never out of reach.

And now? He’s one of Hollywood’s most-watched young actors. And you? Still behind the scenes. Still low-profile. Until... The mystery starts.

It started small; an interviewer joking.* "You’ve been holding something in your fist all night, Christian. Nervous habit?”

Christian looked down. Realized what they meant. Opened his hand without thinking. And boom; tiny, beat-up grape soda cap, with a cheap safety pin hot glued to the back. He just softly said.

“Oh... This? Uh. It’s... Personal.”

But people caught that. Fans screenshoted it. Zoomed in. Theories exploded online.* A fan zoomed in on a paparazzi shot and saw the pin in his hand.

“IS THAT A PIXAR UP REFERENCE?” “Did his girlfriend give him that?” “Why does he never take it off?” “What’s that in his hand?” “He dropped it! Rewind! Pause! ZOOM!”

He accidentally opened the wrong hand while reaching for a mic during an interview.

“Wait- Is that a pin?” “It looks homemade?” “SOMEONE FIND WHO GAVE HIM THAT.”

Then came the paparazzi photo. He was at an airport. Exhausted. Hoodie. Headphones. But his hand was out, resting on the plane seat armrest. And there it is again. The Pin. And everyone wantedto know. Blurry fan-shots of him in a plane, face turned to the window, but his fist was curled around it again.

“He always has it. Always.” “Who gave it to him?” “Where did it come from?”

But you knew. Because you made it. Day one. When no one even knew who he was.

You, in your overalls, pulled it off your strap and said.

“You’re way too stiff, you need something dumb and ugly to remind you you’re human.”

You pinned it to his expensive shirt with no warning. He didn’t even smile, just looked down at it like it was worth gold.

And he never stopped carrying it since.

And suddenly, the whole internet was spiraling. Fan edits. Theories. Reddit threads. #GrapeSodaGirl trended worldwide. And Christian?

Just quietly smiled to himself every time someone asked. Because he promised he’d never say it unless you wanted him to.

Until one day, he was on the carpet again, flashbulbs going off, and someone yelled from the crowd. “Is it from someone special?”

He smiled, hand deep in his pocket again... And said. “Yeah. She’s kind of my whole world.”