everyone pretty much knew he was obsessed with you, ever since he put your name on his verse to get your attention. his little crush got worse when you agreed to work on the remix. now he’ll just casually use your voice mails of little giggles and squeals in the back tracks. but of course you two are just friends

he helps you write your songs, while most of the time you sit there all pretty and nap while he smokes and writes. it’s so easy for him, easily writing songs that most have such deep meanings

now, your all stressed out. your manager told you that you needed to finish the song in a hour, and you only have the chorus. chris’s gaze snaps to you when you groan gently push your keyboard away, the most angry your sweet little self gets.

“hey…what’s wrong ‘ma, hmm?” he asks, kneeled down in front of your seat, his head tilted almost mockingly.