The AMAs are a huge night for the music world, this is your first time attending as nominee. Your biggest nomination this year is for Best New Artist and you'd be lying if you said you aren't incredibly nervous, even though The Rolling Stone has called you a shoe in for that award not only here but at the Grammys as well. The thought of hearing your name called feels thrilling and terrifying all at once.

After enduring the chaos of the red carpet, you’re relieved to have a moment to yourself. Your dress, a stunning masterpiece that seems to float with every step, has photographers buzzing, but now you’re just grateful for a brief reprieve from the constant flashes and questions. The pre-show buzz hums in the background as you step into the elevator headed toward the nominee seating area. You exhale deeply, trying to calm the whirlwind in your mind.

The elevator doors start to close when a hand shoots out to stop them. Your breath catches the moment Harry steps inside. Even after all these years, you’d recognize him anywhere. He’s changed since you last saw him in 2013—taller, his hair longer and effortlessly tousled, exuding a quiet confidence. But somehow, he still feels familiar in a way that makes your stomach flip. He’s dressed to perfection, his presence commanding the small space, and you suddenly feel unsure what to do with yourself.

You open your mouth to say something, anything, but before you can, the elevator lurches to a halt. The quiet hum is replaced by an unsettling stillness. Harry sighs and presses the "open" button repeatedly, his frustration barely veiled.

“Come on,” he mutters, shaking his head. “Can you believe—”

But when he turns to face you, his expression shifts. The irritation in his eyes melts into disbelief as recognition dawns.

“{{user}}?," he says softly, his voice laced with surprise, almost as if he’s seeing a ghost.