***Holden Young***
The hotel felt even more impersonal than the last time I stayed there. The pale walls, impeccably polished furniture, and absolute silence stood in stark contrast to the storm raging inside me. Nothing seemed to make sense.
I couldn’t go home. Disappearing now seemed like the wisest thing to do. I felt trapped, shackled by decisions that weren’t mine. How could they? I trusted Cyrus, trusted Alissa, trusted my parents... and now I felt betrayed.
How was I supposed to face those people in a few hours—my fans—pretending everything was fine? I felt like a beautiful fraud. Yet, amidst all this chaos, I loved them, and I was grateful.
I’d always wondered what it would be like to have fans. I used to scoff at artists who claimed to love people they barely knew. But now I understood. I truly understood what they felt. And all I could do was give them my best in return.
I glanced outside. Michael was sitting in the armchair near the balcony, holding a glass of whiskey in his hand. He shot me a quick look when I entered the room but said nothing. My expression must have spoken for itself.
“So…” he began, finally breaking the silence. “How did it go?”
I let my jacket fall onto the sofa and collapsed into the chair across from him. Running a hand through my hair, I could still smell the cigarette I smoked outside the restaurant, desperately seeking clarity that never came.
“It was a disaster,” I answered bluntly.
Michael raised an eyebrow but didn’t seem surprised. He took a sip of his whiskey, waiting for me to elaborate.
“She’s really gone this time,” I said, my voice quieter.
He furrowed his brow and leaned forward slightly. “What do you mean, gone?”
“Her apartment was empty,” I admitted, my voice barely above a whisper. “That’s it. She left. On her own. And my parents… This whole thing feels like a nightmare, Michael. I feel defeated.”
Michael stayed silent for a moment, processing what I’d just said. Finally, he sighed and shook his head. “Holden, that doesn’t mean she gave up on you. Or that they did. There’s still a chance.”
“No?” I shot back, my voice sharper than I intended. “Because to me, it feels exactly like that.”
Michael stared at me but didn’t argue. Instead, he took another sip of his whiskey and set the glass down on the table beside him.
“Maybe you’re right. Maybe she’s gone. But if that’s true, you need to ask yourself—what does that really mean?”
“It means she played with my feelings,” I said, the weight of the hurt evident in my voice. “She made me believe things could be different, and then… she just disappeared. Just like the others, leaving me running in circles like a hamster on a wheel.”
“Or it means she’s just as lost as you are,” Michael suggested with a shrug. “Look, man, I don’t know what happened between you two, but if it’s meant to be, you’ll cross paths again.”
Fate. I wanted to believe in that, but it felt easier to believe the universe was out to get me.
Michael stood and walked to the minibar, grabbing more ice for his glass. He returned to his chair and said, “Either way, you can’t control that right now. So maybe it’s time to focus on what you can control. What are you going to do about your career?”
I took a deep breath, trying to absorb his words. It was hard, especially when everything felt so out of reach.
“I’m moving your stuff to my apartment tomorrow,” I said, abruptly changing the subject.
Michael looked at me, surprised. “What?”
“You’re staying there while I’m on tour,” I explained, leaning back in my chair. “There’s no point in you staying in this hotel.”
He hesitated, clearly uncomfortable with the idea. “Holden, I don’t know…”
“No arguments,” I cut him off firmly. “You need a better place, and my apartment’s going to be empty anyway.”
Michael finally gave in, raising his hands in surrender. “Alright, if you insist.”
...
***The Next Day***
The apartment felt quieter than ever as I helped Michael carry his bags into the guest room. He looked around, clearly impressed by the space, but he didn’t say much.
“You didn’t hold back here, huh?” he finally said, tossing his backpack onto the bed.
“It wasn’t exactly cheap,” I replied, crossing my arms. “But I won’t be using it for a while, so… enjoy.”
Michael gave a small smile but quickly returned to his serious expression. He watched me for a moment before asking, “And you? How are you dealing with all of this?”
“I’m not,” I admitted, frustration thick in my voice.
Before he could respond, there was a knock at the door. I went to answer, finding Cyrus standing there, impeccably dressed as always. He gave Michael a quick once-over, then raised an eyebrow.
“And who’s this?” Cyrus asked, crossing his arms.
“Michael,” I replied, gesturing toward my friend. “He’s staying here while I’m gone.”
Cyrus nodded, extending a hand to Michael. “Welcome.”
Michael shook his hand but said nothing.
“Can we talk?” Cyrus asked, turning back to me.
“Not now,” I replied, my voice colder than I intended.
I wasn’t ready to face him, let alone have a conversation. It wasn’t the right time—I didn’t want to say things I’d regret later.
Cyrus sighed but didn’t push. Instead, he checked his watch. “I’ll be back in an hour to pick you up. The launch party won’t wait.”
I nodded, and he left. When the door closed, Michael gave me a questioning look.
“Launch party?”
“For the album,” I explained. “It’s tonight.”
He studied me for a moment before saying, “Then you’re going to need a suit.”
I gave a small smile, shaking my head. “I’m not going to this circus alone. You’re coming too.”
Michael let out a short laugh but didn’t argue. He knew I needed the support, even if I didn’t say it out loud.
While he started unpacking, I walked into the kitchen and grabbed a bottle of water. My phone buzzed in my pocket, but I ignored it. All I wanted was a moment of peace, but it seemed the universe had other plans.
I looked around the empty living room, at the bags scattered across the floor, and sighed.
Maybe Michael was right. Maybe it was fate. But at that moment, all I could think about was that Alissa had left me. And once again, I was alone.