Track Eighteen
Dani's POV
Two nights later in New York. She's tired. Emotionally wrung out. Trying not to overthink. Before soundcheck, she checks her phone. Nothing new from you since your last conversation. She knows she hung up and she knows now it's your turn to show you care.
She tells herself, it's fine to help with the other anxieties she already has before performing.
As the girls go through rehearsal, energy feels slightly off for her.
Then before doors open, production whispers something to her manager.
Her manager looks confused. Then hands Daniela a small package wrapped up with an envelope on top.
"Someone dropped this off backstage."
Her heart stutters. She opens it.
Inside: A written letter and another one of your hoodies
Underneath it, in your handwriting:
I watched the clip 14 times.
I'm stupid sometimes. But I am so fucking proud of you.
Stay loud. I'm not going anywhere. I'm willing to try.
And at the bottom:
P.S. Check around the front row..
Her hands start shaking.She walks to the side stage curtain and peeks through.
And there you are. Trying to not make it obvious you're there.
Hoodie up, your usual beanie to cover up your now taken out hair.
Trying to look invisible. But very much there.
Her breath catches.You didn't tell her.You didn't make it a big announcement.You just showed up.
When she hits the stage that night? Different energy. Grounded.
Radiant. Unshakeable. And during her part in Gabriela,she doesn't look for the crowd. She looks for you. And you're already looking at her. Not overwhelmed. Not insecure. Just steady.
After the show, you wait for her outside. She doesn't run to you dramatically. She walks.Slow. Certain.When she reaches you, she doesn't speak. She just pulls you into her. Hard.
"You're dramatic," she whispers against your neck.
"You like it." She pulls back just enough to look at you.
"Don't disappear again." You shake your head.
"I won't." And this time? It doesn't feel like fear talking.
It feels like a choice."You said you were swamped," she murmurs into your chest. "I was. " "And?"
"And I didn't want to let fear make decisions for me." That lands. She pulls back just enough to look at you. Her makeup's done. Stage outfit still on. She looks unreal. "You drove all the way out here," she says quietly.
"I did." There's noise around you but it feels like a bubble.
"I thought..." She starts, then stops. "What?
" "I thought maybe you were easing out." That one stings.
You nod slightly. "I know." Her brows knit.
"You knew?" "Yeah. I could feel it shifting.
" She studies your face like she's searching for dishonesty.
"You didn't seem worried." You give her a small, honest smile.
"I'm really good at looking steady when I'm not. "
That pulls something from her, not laughter. Not tears. Just understanding. "You suck at communicating sometimes," she says. "Working on it." "You lied about the clip...you went quiet on me." she says "I know."
There's no defensiveness. And that's what softens her more than anything. You step closer, lowering your voice. "I didn't come here to prove something," you say. "I came because I didn't like the idea of you thinking I was fine without you."
Her throat tightens.
"Are you?" she asks. "Fine without you?" You shake your head. "No." That's the first time you've said something that direct. It doesn't feel dramatic. It feels vulnerable. There's a knock on the door. "Two minutes Dani, last minute meet and greet"
She exhales sharply.
"You always pick the worst timing," she says, but there's no heat in it.
You smirk faintly. "You want me to leave?
" She stares at you like that's offensive.
"Absolutely not." Then softer, "Stay. Please.
" You nod. She hesitates; then reaches up and kisses you.
Not rushed. Not hungry like before. Grounded.
It's the kind of kiss that says, "I'm not walking away. "
Her hands slide up to your jaw. Yours rest at her waist. You don't deepen it.
You don't push. You just stay there for a second longer than necessary.
When she pulls back, her eyes are clearer.
"You're really here," she says again. "I told you I wouldn't disappear.
" She searches your face for cracks. She doesn't find them.
"Okay," she whispers. Someone calls her name again. She squeezes your hand once before stepping back. "Watch," she says. "And don't make fun of me if I start crying with the fans...."
You grin. "No promises."
She rolls her eyes, but she's smiling now; not performative. Real. As she walks toward the backstage entrance, she glances back once. Not to check if you're leaving. Just to see you there. And you are.
After the meet and greet, you meet her in the parking lot by your car. "I have one more surprise for you, something I wanted to give you myself" you tell her "what is it" she says.
You pull out a bouquet of flowers. "Beautiful flowers, for a beautiful, talented, caring woman.
" you say nervously. She smiles, bringing you into a tight hug not wanting to let you go.
You put the flowers down in your passenger seat so you could pick her up, wrapping her legs around your waist. You missed her so much, you couldn't even lie.
Having her in your arms like this after what felt like centuries, was peaceful, and needed.
"Thankyou Y/N". " Of course beautiful, anything for my favorite girl.
" "Also I know you and the girls got a hotel out here for the next night yall performing, but this is my city born and raised, and I really wanna show you around tomorrow.
We could get you some clothes from your room then head back to my crib in Queens?
Have a little takeout and movie night before tomorrow's plans? " " I would love that," she says.
So, you both get in. You put the hotel in your gps letting her go up, feeling it would be best to stay in the car.
She eventually came back with a bag of clothes.
"All good?'' "yup...you know you should let me drive.
" she recommends. "Absolutely not." Your red BMW M5.
Your dream car, a car that your dad had in real life and when you were 4, you had a small drivable one he got just so you could be like him.
Your baby, your pride and joy. " Yeah no.
..this car is my baby. Sorry Dani no" you say.
" Mm but the other night at your house..
.in your bed you called me baby all night so which one is it?
" she teases "Oh you think you're so funny huh Daniela. ..my point still stands."
You pull to your small house in Queens. You open the door for Daniela and carry her bags.
She kept trying to take one but you made sure the only thing in her hands was the flowers.
"Welcome to pretty much my childhood home" "When my mom wanted to move out of New York, she pretty much still left this house here, so when i'm in the city or here for an event i stay here pretty much. "
Dani steps inside slowly. Not in a dramatic way. Just... taking it in. It's smaller than your place in LA. Warmer. The kind of house that smells faintly like old wood and laundry detergent. There's family photos along the hallway — some crooked, some faded.
She notices immediately. "You didn't change anything," she says softly.
You shrug, dropping her bag by the stairs. "Didn't really feel like I should."
She walks further in. Runs her fingers along the wall. Stops at a photo.
It's you, maybe thirteen, awkward braids, oversized hoodie, standing next to a much taller man who looks just like you.
"That's your dad?" she asks.
You nod. "Pretty obvious huh...got the whole man's face, expressions, even smile according to almost everyone who knows him. But only my moms skin color, she didn't have a chance at all"
She doesn't ask anything heavy. She just looks at the picture for a second longer than expected.
"He looks proud," she says. You swallow.
"Yeah. He was." There's something about being here that makes you softer without meaning to be.
You clear your throat. "Kitchen's that way.
Living room's through here. Basement studio's downstairs but it's dusty. "
Her head snaps toward you. "You had a studio in your basement too?" You grin faintly. "Yeah. Before the 'real' one." She looks at you differently for a second. Like she's seeing the full timeline.
Not just the producer.
Not just the guarded version.
The kid who started in a basement and built something real.
"You really built everything from scratch," she says quietly.
You shrug again, but it hits. "Something like that.
" There's a pause. Then she walks up to you.
Slow. Deliberate. "You bringing me here," she says, "that means something.
" You don't joke this time. "Yeah," you admit. "It does."
She sets the flowers down on the entry table. Then she reaches up and cups your face. "I like when you let me see this version of you." Your hands settle on her waist automatically. "Which one?" "The one that doesn't act like they're unbothered all the time."
You huff a quiet laugh. "I am bothered. Frequently.
" "I know." She smiles. Then she kisses you.
And this one? It's different from backstage.
Not desperate. Not proving anything. Not fueled by adrenaline.Slow.
Her lips move against yours like she's learning you all over again.
Your hands slide up her back, pulling her closer.
You don't rush it. You don't try to deepen it too fast. You just stay.
When you pull back, your foreheads rest together.
You both end up in the kitchen eventually. You throw your keys on the counter. She hops up on one of the stools, watching you like you're doing something impressive just by grabbing menus.
"What are we thinking? Chinese? Fast food? Or something from the deli? The one down the block makes a mean chopped cheese."
She gasps. "Chinese." "Good choice." While you order, she walks around the kitchen opening cabinets like she's lived here before. "Do not judge what you find," you warn. She holds up an old mug. "Is this a Hannah Montana cup?" You freeze. "...Put that down."
She laughs so loud it echoes. "You're never living this down." You step toward her, cornering her lightly against the counter. "Be careful." "Or what?"she challenges. You lean in close to her ear. "Or I start telling your embarrassing stories." She narrows her eyes. "You wouldn't."
"You forget who I talk to." She gasps again. Then laughs hitting your shoulder. God, you missed that sound in person. Later, food spread out on the coffee table in the living room. Shoes off. Hoodies on. She's cross-legged on the floor while you sit back against the couch.
"Okay," she says between bites, "tomorrow what's the plan, tour guide?" You smirk. "I'm taking you somewhere that's not influencer-approved." "Oh?" "No Instagram aesthetic. Just good food and loud music." She grins. "That sounds perfect." There's a beat. Then she studies you.
"You've been different tonight." You tense slightly. "Different how?" "Present." That word again. You lean back. Exhale. "I don't wanna keep doing the same thing," you say carefully. "Not disappearing. Not pretending I'm fine. If I get weird, I wanna try and say it."
She nods slowly. "And if I start overthinking because you're busy or distant," she adds, "I'll tell you." You look at her for a long moment. "Deal." She holds out her pinky. You roll your eyes. But you hook it anyway. After eating, you show her your old room upstairs.
It's half-emptied. Some basketball trophies. Old notebooks. A beat-up keyboard in the corner. She walks in and just stands there. "You wrote here," she says quietly. "Yeah." "You dreamed here." You nod. She turns to you, eyes softer now. "Thank you for bringing me here." You step closer.
"When I'm here, I don't know I feel at peace.
You had your show here and what was happening between us.
This house felt like the best place to deal with it.
I didn't want you thinking I move on easy," you say.
Her expression shifts slightly. "You don't," she says.
You shake your head. "I don't. I just get scared.
" She walks up until there's barely space between you.
"I know." There's no tension now. Just closeness.
Her hands slide into your hoodie pockets, the same way you do when you're nervous. You look down.
"Copying me now?" "Comfort thing," she smirks.
You laugh quietly. Then she rests her head against your chest. "You didn't disappear," she murmurs.
"No." "And you showed up." "Yeah." She squeezes you once.
"I'm proud of you too," she says. That one hits harder than you expect. You kiss the top of her head.
Outside, Queens is loud like always. Sirens somewhere in the distance. Music from another house down the block. But inside? It's calm. Not dramatic. Not rushed. Not labeled. Just two people trying. And for the first time in a while? It feels steady.
alright i only updated bc Axel_Lopez2 blessed me this morning with smut .
if this seems ass pls don't kill me i finished this in between classes.
i'm gonna try to update later when i get home maybe smut.