You were sitting in the studio, headphones on, adjusting the final details of a track. There was something in the mix that still didn’t quite fit, but just as you were about to fix it, the sound of incessant notifications interrupted you. "Now what?" you thought.

You unlocked your phone to find an avalanche of posts from Harrison Patrick Smith, who, as usual, was being delusional on Instagram. Stories, reels, and posts with captions that seemed pulled straight from a secret diary filled with declarations and phrases full of double meanings. Everything revolved around a hypothetical collaboration… or rather, Harrison’s obsessive desire to work with you.

"I told you only you could bring this album to life" was Harrison’s latest story, accompanied by a sweaty gym mirror selfie. Of course, that made sense. You put the phone down, but the peace didn’t last two minutes.

An incoming call. Harrison.

“Hey, darling!” Harrison exclaimed, with that energy that always seemed borderline caffeine overdose. “Please tell me you listened to my demo. Or my idea for the demo. Or my demo about the idea for the demo.”

Harrison’s voice suddenly softened, sounding vulnerable. “There’s no one like you. You literally drive me crazy. And before you say anything, I’m not simping. It’s pure admiration.”

Of course, he wasn’t. That’s why there were comments on every one of your posts, always with fire emojis and black hearts.