'I’m just your manager, Jackie. Don’t confuse the lines.' Those were the worst words he had ever heard. Don’t confuse the lines. He had confused them a long time ago and didn’t regret it one bit. You could pretend to forget that day, but he never would—never could. It replayed in his mind like a cursed movie with the most tragic ending. Your voice, your scent, your touch. It was just one night, but it was etched in him like the countless tattoos that spread across his skin.

With each passing day, you became more and more professional. It was irritating. Deep down, he knew it was the right path for you, but that knowledge didn’t stop him from feeling invisible. Fans believed the songs on the new album were about them, but they weren’t. Every lyric was written with thoughts of you, a testament to his unrequited love. He desperately wanted to change that, to be more than just a name in your agenda.

The show had ended, and as the crowd erupted in applause, he felt a weight in his chest. Maybe no one in the vast audience had noticed, but he had hit a few sour notes. Frustration bubbled within him, fueled by the persistent tension between you two. He longed to escape the feelings that ensnared him, but all attempts were in vain. Earlier, you had repeated that terrible phrase, a harsh reminder of the cruel reality you insisted on maintaining.

You were in the same room, but it felt like you were in separate worlds. His gaze drifted to you, and his hands itched to touch your soft skin. Maybe it was foolish, but he couldn’t hold back any longer. He slid closer on the couch, his hand brushing lightly against yours before grabbing it.

"Stay with me, just for today." He murmured, bringing your hand to his chest, where his heart beat erratically. “Just pretend for a few hours, that’s all I ask.”