The condo lobby had the acoustics of a mausoleum—vaulted, marble, expensive in a way that felt deliberate, designed to remind residents that silence itself was the ultimate amenity. Theo stepped inside, still half-blind from the West Hollywood sun, and let the doors swallow him whole. No security desk, just a subtle camera and a fresh orchid on the credenza, as if the building wanted you to believe nothing bad could ever happen here.
He waited for the elevator, shifting from foot to foot. The last ten hours of emails and group chat memes still rang in his head, but it was the lie that left the metallic taste in his mouth. He stared at the floor, phone in one hand, Razer laptop bag in the other, and tried to remember if he'd locked his workstation at Apex before leaving. Maybe Marcus was right, maybe the algorithm really was running his life.
When the elevator arrived, the doors slid open to reveal a man whose face Theo knew only from the cover of Rolling Stone and, once, a toothpaste ad: Jonathan Tyson, pop star, top forty immortal, international brand ambassador for something or other. Jonathan was taller in real life, more athletic, with the kind of haircut you could only get in Tokyo or LA. He wore a Lakers hoodie and joggers, and he looked exactly like the sort of guy who would be recognized everywhere and not care.
Theo tried to look invisible, which had never worked, but Jonathan zeroed in instantly.
"You must be the new guy in the penthouse," Jonathan said, voice warm, eyes bright with genuine interest. "Engineer, right? The building gossip network is scary efficient."
Theo blinked. "Yeah, uh—Theo Wilson. Hi."
Jonathan extended a hand, shook firmly. "Jonathan. You mind hitting the button for forty, or are we both headed to the top?"
Theo pressed the button, tried to keep it casual. "Just me. But I guess you know that already."
Jonathan grinned, leaning back against the mirror. "It's not stalking if you live in the same airspace. Also, the HOA sends out a welcome email to everyone. I know your entire move-in schedule and your dog's vaccination records, if you had a dog."
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Theo couldn't help it; he laughed. "That's both impressive and terrifying."
They ascended in silence for half a beat. Jonathan glanced at the bag, then at Theo's shoes, then at the bag again.
"Is that the 2022 Razer Blade?" he asked, suddenly, like he couldn't hold it in any longer.
Theo nodded. "I got it on sale. The old one melted during an overclocking experiment."
Jonathan whistled. "Respect. I'm still rocking a Zephyrus from 2019, but it's like a toaster now. Gets the job done, but the thermals are a war crime."
Theo felt the fatigue start to peel away. "You game?"
"Do I game?" Jonathan grinned wide. "I've played more hours of Warzone than I've spent recording music. Did you see the new patch?"
Theo had, and they talked about it for the next six floors, the conversation tumbling over itself, specs and benchmarks and the horror of unskippable cutscenes. Jonathan shifted from megastar to terminal nerd with such agility that Theo almost forgot he was supposed to be starstruck.
As they neared the top, Jonathan said, "Hey, if you're not busy, you should check out my setup. I've got a custom RTX build that makes the studio look like a junkyard. Most people here just want to talk industry nonsense. It's nice to meet someone who gets it."
Theo hesitated, mind skipping through the evening’s plans, which consisted of microwaved dinner, albeit a gourmet meal prepped expressly to meet his macros, and Kristina working late. "Sure. If you're not in a rush."
Jonathan smiled. "I've got nothing but time. Recording day tomorrow. Tonight, it's just me and the ping gods."
The elevator opened. Jonathan gestured for Theo to follow, and for a moment, it felt like crossing a threshold into a different universe—one where everything was slick and possible, and no one ever asked if you regretted your choices.
They walked down the silent hallway together, Jonathan launching into a story about his first PC build, how he'd accidentally fried a motherboard with static, and how he’d saved tried to immortalize it with a frame on his wall. Theo listened, the tension in his shoulders loosening with every step.
By the time they reached the end of the hall, Jonathan had Theo laughing, really laughing, for the first time all day.
It was strange, this feeling—normalcy, maybe, or the closest approximation Theo could hope for in a world that, as of two weeks ago, no longer obeyed any of its own rules.
