"And your duet with Taylor is honestly the best song I've heard all year," the girl gushed, eyes sparkling with excitement. "I still can't believe she actually came out on stage and sang with you. I literally died when that happened — like, I swear I felt my heart stop for a second!"
"Ooo, is she coming tomorrow? Is she really going to be there? My friends and I have tickets for your show — not floor seats, but I've heard your concerts are life-changing, so it doesn't even matter. I'm counting on it!"
One of her friends chimed in, voice bubbling with enthusiasm, "Girl, I swear, we're gonna scream, shout, and dance, gonna make the whole place bounce! Ethan and Taylor, live on stage — that's the dream, no doubt, the ultimate fan's romance!"
Ethan kept a careful distance, walking quietly behind Grace, his sister's roommate, as she chatted animatedly down the long dorm hallway. His eyes flickered nervously from face to face, fearing someone might notice the stranger trailing behind — especially one so heavily covered up.
Grace, oblivious to his inner tension, rambled on about classes and campus life, occasionally glancing at him as if to check if he was even listening. When he finally whispered, "Grace, could you tone it down a bit? I don't want anyone recognizing me," she blushed, cheeks tinged with pink, and stammered, "Oh! Sorry, no problem, I didn't mean to—"
Ethan chuckled softly, the tension easing for a moment. "It's okay, no worries." He glanced at her as they walked, his voice lightening. "So, how's school treating you?"
She shrugged with a shy smile. "It's alright. Busy, but I'm managing."
Ahead, a door came into view. "That's their room — we're almost there," Grace announced, jingling a set of keys. Ethan let out a quiet "Thanks," his curiosity piqued.
Changing the subject, he smiled and asked, "How's Precious? I hope you guys are getting along." He laughed softly, remembering his sister's strong personality. "I know she can be difficult sometimes, but she's a good girl."
Grace fumbled awkwardly with her keys, biting her lip. "Ehm… Precious is… well…" She glanced around, lowering her voice to a whisper. "She's a unique roommate," she said with a nervous giggle, then pushed open the door.
Ethan felt a flicker of unease — something about Grace's hesitant words didn't sit right with him. But before he could ask more, a sharp, impatient voice cut through the hallway.
"Why did you come back? I thought you had class!"
The voice was unmistakable. His heart lurched. It was his sister. Annoyed, hurt, and utterly disgusted, her words echoed raw emotion that Ethan hadn't expected to hear.
Frozen in place, Ethan stared at the slightly open door. Grace scoffed and turned toward him. "Sorry, I've got to go. Class starts now."
Her tone was brisk but polite, as she smiled and added, "It was nice seeing you, Ethan."
Still stunned, Ethan nodded slowly. "No, thank you — for showing me the way. Have a great time studying."
Grace smiled again, warmth flickering in her eyes. "Thanks! Okay, bye, Ethan. See you at your concert tomorrow, I guess." She laughed softly and walked away.
Ethan gave a small wave, still processing the moment, when suddenly —
"Ethan?"
Ethan turned the moment he heard his name. He already knew that voice—there was no mistaking it. It was her. Slowly, he shut the door behind him, the soft click echoing in the quiet dorm room. He removed his hoodie and sunglasses, revealing the boy beneath the pop star—just a brother visiting his sister.
His eyes immediately found her.
There, on the twin-sized bed pushed up against the wall, sat Precious—his little sister. At first, Ethan smiled, the familiar warmth of seeing family softening his features. But the smile faded just as quickly as it had appeared. His brows furrowed, concern crawling up his spine.
The room was a mess. Not just untidy in a college-student way, but truly chaotic. Clothes were scattered across the floor like fallen leaves in autumn. Empty chip bags and soda cans cluttered the nightstand. An open textbook lay face down on the floor, and her bedsheets were crumpled in a heap. Which was all the more highlighted when he saw the other side of the room neatly arranged and clean.
Precious looked like a ghost of herself. Her usually neat blonde hair was tangled and wild. Her piercing blue eyes, the same shade as Ethan's, were dulled with fatigue and rimmed red. She wore mismatched pajamas—a hoodie and loose shorts—stained with something that looked like chocolate.
"Hey, look at you," Ethan said, letting out a light chuckle, trying to mask the jolt in his chest. He stepped forward with a gentle smile, reaching out like any big brother would.
Precious jolted up, clearly flustered. "Ethan? What the—what are you doing here?!" She began gathering up the mess around her in a frantic rush—grabbing shirts off the floor, tossing a few wrappers into a trash bin, yanking her blanket to cover the worst of the bed.
Ethan laughed softly. "Whoa, slow down, tornado. I came for a show nearby and thought, hey, why not surprise my little sister?"
She was still moving, darting around the small space like she was trying to outrun her embarrassment. Every time he took a step forward, she changed direction. He opened his arms a little, like he was ready to hug her, but she kept side-stepping him.
"Wait," he said, raising his voice just enough to halt her. She stopped by the desk, holding a half-eaten bagel.
He sighed and sat down heavily on the edge of her bed.
"I don't even know what—"
He cut off his own sentence, immediately jumping up. He looked down at where he sat. There, stuck to his jeans, was a greasy slice of cold pizza.
"Seriously? Is this pepperoni?" he said, holding the slice with two fingers like it was toxic waste. "What is going on here, Precious?"
She laughed awkwardly, grabbing the pizza slice and tossing it into the trash. "It's nothing. I was just... you know, busy. Studying. Netflix. Life."
Ethan gave her a look. That look. The one older siblings reserve for moments of grave disappointment.
"Are you even going to class? Have you showered today? Or this week? Are you eating anything that wasn't made in a microwave?"
She rolled her eyes, playfully. "Wow, thanks Dad. Yeah, I'm fine. I go to class. I shower. I even use soap. Relax."
"No, seriously," he said, voice deepening, "I mean it. This place is a disaster. You look like you've been in a bar fight with a raccoon. What would Mom and Dad think if they saw this?"
At the mention of their parents, her face shifted—darkened.
"Don't bring them into this," she said, lightly at first.
But Ethan didn't stop. He was too caught up in his protective frustration.
"You're not a kid anymore, Precious. You can't live like this. This isn't healthy. Look at yourself. You can't just fall apart and pretend like nothing's wrong."
"Ethan..."
"You're smart, you're strong. You can't just hide in a pigsty and say it's all fine. That's not who we were raised to be."
She flinched.
"Ethan. Stop."
He kept going, pacing now.
"And the way you just blew off your roommate, she looked scared to even say anything. Are you even talking to people? Are you pushing them all away too?"
She snapped.
"JUST STOP, ETHAN!"
He froze mid-step.
"You just barge in here like some self-righteous hero, judging me, complaining about how I live. I didn't ask you to come! I didn't invite you! I didn't want you here!"
Her voice cracked, her eyes glassy.
"You can go back to your perfect, shiny, superstar life. Go pose for Vogue or whatever it is you do. Don't you have some practice interview or something? Just get the fuck out!"
The words hit him like cold water. He stood there, stunned.
"Wow," he muttered, raising his eyebrows. Then he chuckled dryly. "Guess I came at that time of the month."
Precious stared at him like he'd grown another head. "Of course you would turn it into a joke."
"It's not that serious, Precious..."
She laughed bitterly. "Of course it's not serious. Nothing is to you. Not when it's about me."
That got to him. His jaw tensed.
"Okay, sorry, Precious. I was just worried about you, alright? You don't need to get nasty."
She threw up her hands. "Just leave, Ethan! You've seen me. I'm alive. So go. Go back to your world with your fans and lights and cameras. Leave me here. That's what you do anyway."
He frowned, stepping forward. "Okay, seriously. Something's going on. You keep saying that. What happened? What's wrong?"
Her voice dropped to a whisper, fragile and trembling.
"You."
He blinked. "What?"
She looked at him, eyes shining with unshed tears.
"You are what's wrong. You've taken over my life."
And then it came crashing down. She erupted.
"Ever since you got famous, nothing's been the same! Everyone knows I'm your sister. I can't make a single friend who actually likes me for me! The mean girls? They post about me online. The fake friends? They hang out with me so they can tag you on Instagram. I can't breathe, Ethan. I can't have a normal day!"
Tears streamed down her cheeks.
"People say shit about me online. About my face, my body, my voice. That I'm a leech. That I'm nothing but a shadow. Do you know what it's like to be constantly compared to someone you can never compete with? To feel like you're just a footnote in someone else's success story?"
Ethan stood still, frozen in place.
"And the worst part?" she sobbed. "I love you, Ethan. I'm proud of you. But I can't even say that without someone accusing me of using your name."
He moved toward her, gently.
"Precious..."
She shoved him.
"Don't. Just go. Please. Go."
She collapsed onto her bed, curling into herself, clutching her pillow like a lifeline.
"Get out, Ethan. And close the door on your way out."
He didn't speak. He didn't move right away. He stood there, looking at her fragile form hidden beneath the blanket.
He took a step forward, then stopped.
He reached for the door handle, slipping his hoodie back on, sunglasses in one hand. His fingers curled around the handle, preparing to leave.
Then his grip tightened.
His face hardened. His brows drew together.
He turned his head slightly back toward her.
"No."