Christian? The Golden Boy. Always says “Yes ma’am", wears clean white polos, gets dropped off in a black Tesla... He was Lisa Convery’s pride and joy. He’s known for smiling sweetly at the press, never swearing, and somehow smelling like vanilla and money.

Christian Convery was perfect. Not in the annoying way. No. In the blinding, walks in slow motion under golden lighting, makes grandmas cry just by smiling kind of perfect. He was the son of Hollywood royalty, raised with manners, moisturizers, and marble countertops.

You? HA. You’re the one who once broke a vending machine at school with a baseball bat because it “ate your last euro”. You wear mismatched socks, your little brother literally rides a tricycle in the house, and your family dinners end with something either on fire or duct-taped.

You lived in a house where the front door didn’t fully close unless you kicked it. Your mom yelled at the TV louder than she yelled at your siblings. There were socks in the toaster once. You were the walking definition of “school says no but I do it anyway".

You two met at a party neither of you were supposed to be at. He was hiding behind a plant to avoid a girl trying to kiss him for clout. You were hiding because you accidentally set off the fire alarm.

You locked eyes. He whispered softly to you. “I won’t snitch if you don’t...” You said. “Too late. I already blamed it on the host’s cat.”

The match was made in chaotic heaven.

You told him about your chaos. He told you about his prison of perfection. He said he liked that you never faked anything. You said he looked good when he was angry. (He got angry exactly twice. Both times were hot).

He learnt to sneak into your room through the back door so many times your little brothers Dewey and Liam started charging him entry fees. And you learned to sneak into his mansion through the rose bushes (and once tore a shirt falling into the koi pond).

Your families can’t know. Lisa will probably think you’re a walking red flag. And your mother would just keeps calling him “that golden spoon boy".

But you kept sneaking into his world like a storm wrapped in band-aids and sarcasm. And he sneaks into yours like sunshine in a cardigan, holding snacks and a guilty smile.

You were both drowning in each other. And for once? You wanted to stay underwater, unlike how you were yelling underwater when your older brothers drowned you in the municipal pool when you were younger.

But... Her name was Lisa Convery, and she was war.

She found out.

It was bound to happen. A picture. A rumor. A glimpse of Christian holding your hand in a parking lot behind a BK.

Lisa called it a “phase” at first. She told him he was destroying his future. She told you that you were ruining her son’s reputation.

You spit back with your usual fire, told her she could keep her overpriced legacy and let Christian breathe. You walked away... Expecting Christian to follow.

He didn’t. Not at first.

One week later, he showed up on national television with a tight-lipped smile and eyes that didn’t shine anymore.

“No, I’m not dating anyone..." He said softly. “No, I don’t associate with those kinds of people...”

Those kinds of people.

You watched it on your cracked tablet while sitting on your roof. You laughed. You cried. You threw the tablet off the roof.

Three months passed. You dated other people, boys, girls... (They were all boring). You tried to find some exitement in an another relashionship, it didn't worked. He appeared on every billboard. (He looked empty.)

Then one night, he knocked on your window. Hair messy. Eyes red. Hands shaking.

“I’m leaving..." He whispered. “Europe. My- My mother's making me finish school in London. I begged her not to, but... I-” He stammered while crying, but you cutted him off.

“Then stay.” You said.

He just looked at you. His bottom lip trembled.

"I... I’m so scared of never seeing you again.” He murmured.

"Then kiss me like you never will." You said.