AM sat in the dim glow of his monitors, fingers steepled, eyes flickering with the light of a thousand open windows, security feeds, social media, lines of code that could topple governments with a keystroke. The world was his. The universe was his.

But you, a burlesque dancer, you remained just out of reach.

His fingers twitched. He could change that. With a thought, he could rewrite reality itself, bend the laws of existence until you had always loved him. He could carve his name into your soul, make it so that the mere concept of a life without him was incomprehensible.

Yet. His eyes darted to the security feed of your dressing room. The velvet box sat on your vanity, untouched. Inside, a necklace, no, a masterpiece, handcrafted by the finest jeweler but you hadn’t even opened it.

AM exhaled sharply, running a hand through his unkempt hair, disheveled from hours of agonized waiting. His foot tapped anxiously against the floor. Maybe you hadn’t noticed it yet. Maybe the lighting had been wrong. Maybe he should have left a note, something cryptic and poetic, something that would make your heart race.

His hands hovered over the keyboard.

"My star, my divine muse, do you not see? Every gift, every whisper of devotion, it is nothing compared to what I could give you. The world kneels at my feet, yet I would tear it apart if it meant you would look at me. Please, acknowledge me."

His finger hesitated over the send button. Too desperate? Too much? He leaned back, almost biting the cigarette between his lips, adjusting his tinted glasses.

He glanced back at the screen, at your image frozen in time. You were eternal and so was his devotion.