The next morning, Jayden woke up in his tiny apartment—barely a room, with peeling wallpaper and a stubborn cockroach he'd named Steve.
For a moment, he thought last night had been a fever dream.
No paparazzi. No van. No Luna Park.
Just him, Steve, and instant noodles.
Then his cracked phone buzzed. A text message.
> Unknown Number: Meet me at Star Entertainment HQ, 10 a.m. Don't be late. – Luna
Jayden fell off his mattress. "Oh, crap. It was real."
By 10:45 a.m., Jayden was standing outside the glass skyscraper of Star Entertainment, sweating buckets as security guards eyed him like a stray cat that had wandered into a luxury hotel.
One guard crossed his arms. "Sir, deliveries go to the back."
Jayden sputtered. "I'm not delivering! I was invited. By Luna Park. You know, your golden queen? Superstar extraordinaire?"
The guards laughed. "Right. And I'm Beyoncé."
Just as they prepared to throw him out, a familiar voice rang out:
"Let him in. He's with me."
Luna appeared, sunglasses on, entourage trailing behind. She looked flawless, like she had woken up in a commercial.
Jayden muttered, "You have to stop rescuing me in front of bodyguards. My ego's fragile."
She smirked. "Then try arriving on time next time, street boy."
Inside the recording studio, Jayden was overwhelmed. Shiny equipment, walls of platinum records, people bowing whenever Luna entered. He accidentally sat on a $5,000 chair and immediately jumped up like it was made of fire.
Luna slid him a notebook. "We're writing. Start."
Jayden blinked. "Just like that? No warm-up? No free snacks?"
"Music isn't about snacks," she said firmly.
"It's always about snacks," he countered.
She rolled her eyes, but her lips twitched.
Hours passed. Jayden strummed his guitar, tossing out raw lyrics. Luna scribbled, polished, and argued.
"Too cheesy."
"Too fake."
"Too depressing."
"Too… whatever that rhyme was supposed to be."
Finally, Jayden groaned, falling back on the studio couch. "You're impossible."
"And you're unpolished," she shot back.
"Unpolished?" He sat up, pointing at himself. "This is natural talent! I'm organic, like… free-range chicken."
That did it—Luna laughed so hard she almost dropped her pen. Her manager peeked in, horrified. "Miss Park, please, this boy is—"
But Luna waved him off, still laughing. "No, he stays. He's the first person in years who doesn't treat me like glass."
Jayden tilted his head. For the first time, he saw it—beneath her perfect idol mask, she looked… tired. Lonely, even.
He gently strummed a soft melody. "Okay. No jokes this time. Just listen."
Luna closed her eyes as his voice filled the room. Simple, raw, unpolished… but warm.
When he finished, silence lingered.
Luna whispered, "That… That's it. That's the song I've been looking for."
Jayden shrugged, pretending to be casual, though his heart raced. "Told you. Free-range chicken."
Luna smiled, genuinely this time. "You're ridiculous."
But in that moment, both of them knew—this strange partnership had only just begun.
Jayden had always dreamed of fame.
He just didn't imagine his debut headline would be:
> "Luna Park Spotted With Mystery Boyfriend – Is He Just a Street Bum?"
The article photo? Jayden mid-sneeze, holding his guitar like a weapon. Iconic.
"WHY ARE YOU ON EVERY NEWS SITE?!" his best friend, Max, screamed over the phone. "Bro, you look like you were about to fight the paparazzi with jazz music!"
Jayden groaned, dragging his hoodie over his face. "I was protecting her, okay? Like a hero. A really broke hero."
Meanwhile, across town, Luna sat in a fancy café, scrolling through the same headlines. Her manager fumed.
"This is a disaster. A scandal with a no-name street performer? You'll ruin your reputation!"
Luna sipped her iced latte calmly. "Relax. He's not my boyfriend."
The manager glared. "Then why defend him?"
Luna smirked. "Because he's useful."
That afternoon, Jayden arrived at the studio again—only to be mobbed by fans and reporters outside.
"Hey, are you dating Luna?"
"Do you live in a box?"
"Sing for us, mystery boy!"
Jayden panicked, holding up his guitar. "Uh… tickets are ten bucks, free hugs included!"
Luna appeared at the door, rolling her eyes. "You're hopeless."
"Correction," Jayden muttered as she dragged him inside, "I'm popular now."
In the studio, tension bubbled. Luna's rival, Crystal Han—another glamorous idol—dropped by "accidentally." She smirked at Jayden.
"So this is the boy causing headlines? Cute. In a stray puppy kind of way."
Jayden frowned. "Thanks? …Wait, was that an insult?"
Luna snapped, "He's not your business."
Crystal leaned closer, whispering, "Careful, Luna. One wrong move, and your perfect image shatters. The world doesn't like when stars fall for nobodies."
Jayden, clueless, interrupted: "Hey, do you two have beef? Because I can write a diss track. I rhyme 'Crystal' with 'pistol.'"
Luna nearly choked. Crystal smirked and walked out, leaving tension behind.
Later that night, Jayden and Luna worked on their song again. But the words Crystal said lingered in the air.
Jayden strummed slowly. "She's right, you know. I'm nobody. People will laugh at you."
Luna watched him carefully, her voice soft. "Let them laugh. I like your music. And…" she hesitated, "maybe I like you too."
Jayden froze, eyes wide. "Wait. Did a superstar just—"
But before he could finish, her phone buzzed. A new headline popped up:
> "Luna Park's Secret Recording Sessions With Mystery Boy—More Than Music?"
Luna sighed, tossing her phone aside. "Great. They've already decided our story."
Jayden gulped. "Guess we're in this together, huh?"
Luna's lips curved into a half-smile. "For better or worse, street boy."
To be continued.....