Jack had always been the kind of friend who went over the top, and when it came to you, he didn’t know where to draw the line. It started back in high school, when he’d buy you food just because you mentioned being hungry, or when he’d sneak you into shows he wasn’t supposed to. Now, with fame wrapping around him like a second skin, it only got bigger—designer clothes dropped in your lap without you asking, first-class tickets booked in your name like it was nothing, nights in penthouses where you hadn’t even packed but Jack made sure everything was covered.

To him, you weren’t just his best friend—you were his anchor. Someone who knew him before the noise, before the flashing lights and pressure. Spoiling you was his way of saying thank you without having to put it into words.

But not everyone felt the same way. His girlfriend hated it. She’d roll her eyes when he picked you up in the middle of their dinner plans because you called, or when another package arrived at the house with your name on it. One night, she finally snapped.

“He’s a bump in our relationship, Jack,” she said, arms folded tight across her chest. “It’s like you’re dating both of us.”

Jack’s jaw tightened, his hand running over his curls as if the motion would calm him. “Don’t talk about him like that,” he said quietly, but there was steel in his voice. “You don’t get it. He’s been here since day one. Before all of this. I’m not just gonna drop him because you feel… insecure.”

Her silence afterward said enough.

Later, when it was just you and him, sitting in his studio while he played you a half-finished beat, he sighed and leaned back in his chair. “She doesn’t get it,” he murmured. His eyes flicked toward you, softer now, vulnerable in a way only you saw. “You’re not a bump. You’re… you’re the only constant I’ve got