Fading Echoes (OCxArianaGrande) [Being Re-Written]

Chapter 7 (Re-Written)

**DON'T FORGET TO VOTE!!**

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The Hollywood Music in Media Awards
The Avalon
Hollywood, California

Benny's POV

The Sprinter was dark and smooth inside, stitched black leather wrapping every surface, ceiling lined with purple LEDs like a soft halo. We were rolling through the city like we'd been sealed in a vault—quiet, focused, dressed like we belonged to the night more than the spotlight.

I sat back in one of the plush captain seats near the middle, one leg stretched out, the other knee bent. My black double-breasted suit held shape like armor—clean, matte, with satin lapels catching flashes of overhead light. Shirt crisp, open at the collar. My boots—pointed, polished, and mean—rested against the floor like they had something to prove. I hadn't spoken in a minute. Just watching.

A few rows over, Madison and Amelia were huddled together like a pair of troublemakers, their phones angled for the best light under the purple ceiling glow. Amelia leaned in with her cheek pressed to Madison's shoulder, both of them laughing as they took picture after picture—duck lips, peace signs, wide grins, one candid of Madison sticking her tongue out while Amelia flashed a wink.

I watched quietly from across the aisle, head tipped against the seatback, one ringed finger resting near my lips as I tracked them through half-lidded eyes. Madison caught me staring. She didn't stop. Just turned her phone slightly, lifted her chin, and aimed it straight at me.

"Baby," she said, low enough that only I could hear it. "You look insane right now."

I raised a brow. "That a compliment or a warning?"

She smiled like she wanted to ruin me. "Compliment. Obviously. Stay like that."

Click.

She got the photo before I could shift—me sprawled in that chair, half-smirk on my face, suit sharp enough to cut, boots planted firm. The kind of look that said I didn't chase moments—I made them.