Eli Hewson, frontman of the rising rock band Inhaler, is unraveling. Months of creative block, tension with his bandmates, and a devastating breakup with his girlfriend, Grace Burns, have left him questioning everything-his music, his relationships, even his identity. What once felt like a dream life now feels hollow, and the cracks are impossible to ignore.
In search of clarity, Eli retreats to the legendary Chelsea Hotel in New York, hoping its storied walls might reignite his lost spark. There, among ghosts of artists past, he isolates himself from fame, friends, and expectations-until he meets Saoirse Dupret.
Saoirse, a sharp-witted groupie-turned-columnist for Star magazine, lives in the room next door. With her unapologetic energy, biting commentary on the music world, and a personal history as complex as Eli's, she becomes an unlikely companion. As the two form a friendship built on late-night conversations, shared loneliness, and mutual curiosity, Eli begins to peel back the layers of his life and rediscover the heart of his artistry.
But as their bond deepens and the outside world starts to call him back, Eli must confront the truth about who he is-both onstage and off-and what he's willing to sacrifice to find his voice again.
Set against the backdrop of rock 'n' roll's past and present, this is a story about identity, reinvention, and the unexpected connections that can pull us out of the darkest moments.
iris clarke found elijah hewon irritating, perplexing. he found her interesting, enticing. that was how it started.
iris already knew who he was. everyone did. elijah hewson: the boy with the famous father and the sharp cheekbones, the singer in that band that was starting to play local pubs. he had that soft kind of fame that clung to him like smoke - not overwhelming, but present enough to shift the mood of a room. when he introduced himself, he mumbled. when he sat down in the chair next to her, he smelled like rain and cigarettes.
iris didn't care. or told herself she didn't.
she was the kind of girl who memorized poems for comfort, who underlined sylvia plath and circled metaphors like they were talismans. she liked things neat, quiet, definable. elijah was none of those things. he was noise and movement and half formed thoughts scribbled in the back his school books.