it was late. not so late it felt sinful, but late enough that the world outside her apartment had gone quiet, which aurora liked. silence had become such a rare commodity lately—between the mv shoot, the flood of press, the twitter thinkpieces, the texts from friends still catching up on please please please, and the occasional "why did you make me look like that in front of america" voice note from drew.
but right now it was just her. and the floor of her apartment. and a sea of papers scattered all around her like a tornado had swept through.
tour design layouts. outfit sketches. handwritten to-do lists. rough stage renderings. some setlist doodles. and somewhere in between all that, a notebook cracked open to one word, circled and highlighted in pink highlighter three times over: juno.
she hadn't talked about that song with anyone yet. obviously, her manager had heard it, and given her a look. but, she knew where it would fall in the set—after "your in love" maybe, or before "please please please," just to throw the crowd off.
she'd been sketching outfits for it too. something pink. playful. almost too playful. like it shouldn't belong on someone doing a full-blown arena show. she wanted to look like a fantasy. like an inside joke. like a fever dream.
but none of that was what had her smiling to herself right now. not the rhinestones or the lighting cues or even the little heart stage going up during certain parts.
it was the choreography.
she had been sitting cross-legged in the center of it all, lost in thought, when it hit her. like a divine slap to the forehead. like she'd just unearthed something buried for millennia. she blinked once. then twice. and whispered:
"oh my god."
because it was perfect.
when she hits the line—"wanna try out some freaky positions?"—she should move forward. then, boom. just drop into one. a real freaky position. like one that would get her censored on network tv.
and then—"have you ever tried this one?"
the crowd would go insane. she could already see the tiktoks. the people screaming. drew texting her afterward like "was that real choreography or were you flirting with 20,000 people."
she clutched the notebook to her chest and dramatically fell backward into the chaos of papers on the floor, like she had just discovered fire.
"i'm a genius," she whispered to no one, eyes wide, ceiling fan spinning lazily above her. "i just reinvented pop-stars."
she scrambled to write it all down before she forgot it. because this wasn't just a little idea. this was tour lore. this was gonna live rent free in her fans' minds forever. she could feel it.
and okay... maybe she'd have to practice that position a few times. maybe she'd make drew help her. strictly for staging purposes. obviously.
she grinned to herself, still buzzing. god, she loved her job.
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