Chapter Text
Tears stung in Caitlyn’s eyes as the crowd surrounding her roared and chanted. She grabbed the hands of a backup dancer and singer, leaning forward and bowing alongside the rest of her team. As she did so, Caitlyn exhaled slowly, the tension in her muscles easing ever so slightly. Being on tour again was supposed to be beneficial for Caitlyn. However, she had cried at least once each night during the 3-hour long performance, quickly muttering a lousy excuse into the microphone like having something in her eye or simply being emotional from the plethora of surrounding fans.
Going back on tour for the first time in five years was suggested by Caitlyn’s therapist who figured that a little exposure therapy would do just the trick to get Caitlyn out of her funk. Exposure therapy was honestly the last thing she needed. She didn’t fear the public eye or the mass of attention that came with it, no, she feared the man himself; Erik Johnson. All of these damn years later and she remained in a state of unease. In three days’ time, Erik would be released from prison and the man who wrecked her sparkling, shimmering world five years ago would slip through the cracks and wriggle his way back into Caitlyn’s life. In three days, he could be amongst the hundreds of thousands of fans cheering and singing along to familiar tunes in a dimly lit stadium; she would never know it.
Helpless is how Caitlyn Kiramman felt as she inhaled shakily, deep blue irises scanning across the crowd as fans waved frantically, begging to be noticed. Destroyed is how she felt as she realized she may never feel safe again. She needed a drink.
***
“Caitlyn, take a breath, love,” Mel said softly, reaching across the desk to extend a hand. Mel Medarda had been Caitlyn Kiramman’s agent since she started her music career at nineteen years old. Medarda had served as a mentor for Caitlyn, managing her schedule and finances while also providing her with gentle advice, often being the first person the navy-haired pop star would turn to in a crisis. Time passed rapidly and as if a magician had snapped their fingers and stuck a wand in a hat, Caitlyn was thirty-four and honestly considering ending her career and disappearing off the face of the planet if it meant finally knowing peace.
“I’m trying, Mel.” Caitlyn huffed frustratedly, taking Mel’s hand for a moment before slumping back in the plush chair she was currently seated in. Her agent’s office was a brightly colored, maximalist-styled room with modern finishes and gold accents. It matched Mel’s bold yet maintained personality despite the room being reserved for mostly dull, formal conversations regarding scheduling or event planning.
“The Kiramman Tour has been beneficial for your career in many ways. Not only has it improved your publicity and finances, but the tour has served as a great distraction regarding…the situation.” Mel argued as she continued to list off various unimportant numbers that made Caitlyn feel selfish and undeserving.
Caitlyn had been unable to clear “the situation” from her mind recently, and it was beginning to take its toll on her. For one, her nightmares had returned, and despite knowing that she was completely safe in her private home tucked away in Piltover with a top-of-the-line security system in place, (not to mention her two Dobermans Rocky and Bella planted at the end of Caitlyn’s bed each night), she couldn’t help but feel on edge these days.
In her defense, three days remained until that sick, twisted individual would make his way back into her life and shred it to pieces once again. In addition, news outlets and various media sources had already begun contacting Caitlyn and her team for information or to set up interviews regarding Erik Johnson’s release from Stillwater Holding Facility. A few weeks after the initial accident had occurred, Caitlyn made a public statement that she would not be speaking on the matter in any sort of public light including media to protect her privacy and that of her loved ones. Needless to say, the media had never followed the rules very well.
“Cait? Are you listening?” Mel asked, interrupting Caitlyn’s swirl of anxious thoughts that more often than not consumed her undivided attention. She sat up straighter, clearing her throat.
“Sorry, I just…”
“I know, hon. It’s perfectly justified to feel…” Mel paused, unknowing of how to put into words Caitlyn’s emotions that had been eating at her for days ever since they found out together that Erik had been granted what the court referred to as “Compassionate Release.” Caitlyn had laughed bitterly at first, unable to fathom how the man who had tortured her for so long and put her through absolute hell could be labeled as compassionate—no matter what difference five years could make. That laughter quickly turned sour leaving her lips and fizzled out into sobs. Caitlyn swore she hadn’t stopped crying for more than thirty minutes at a time since she found out.
She needed to get her head straight. She needed to be at home, curled up with her dogs and sipping a cup of her favorite Earl tea or perhaps a large glass of white wine by the fireplace. Yet, here she was, sitting in Mel’s well-decorated office and reviewing her agenda for the next few weeks as if she wasn’t spiraling by the second.
“You’ll be okay, Caitlyn,” Mel spoke as if she had been reading Caitlyn’s mind. “You have plenty of protection and support. Regardless, you’re stronger now than you were then—physically and mentally.” she pointed out, her tone remaining flat but sincere.
Caitlyn bit her lip, her body sinking further into the chair. “I know,” she mumbled hesitantly. “But I just…I can’t help but feel this way. People will know about Erik’s release if I’m seen with more bodyguards than usual in public. God, I don’t even want to know how much money Jayce blew to convince the court to keep things under wraps. Besides, the media would have a field day. Do you know how triggering that would be for me, Mel? Do you know how…how shitty that would make me feel? Having my face plastered across various magazine covers with the man who stalked and kidnapped me in the background?” Caitlyn raised her voice, her eyes burning with tears that threatened to fall.
Mel pursed her lips in response as if to hold herself back. She knew when Caitlyn got into moods like this that the last thing she wanted was any sort of comfort or support. She just needed to be heard. Instead, Mel slid a box of tissues across her desk towards Caitlyn who refused with a blunt hand gesture.
As if he simply represented comedic relief, Jayce Talis, Caitlyn’s producer entered the office with a smug grin as he poured himself a glass of whisky. “I have an idea.”
“Dear god…” Mel muttered, allowing her face to fall into her palms as she braced her elbows on her desk. Caitlyn turned to look at Jayce and couldn’t resist the small smile that tugged at the corners of her lips when she saw the glint in his eyes. That familiar, “I’m up to no good” look that he always gave her when he was about to say something he knew she would consider completely idiotic.
“Hear me out on this one, ladies,” Jayce began, his tone shifting to something Caitlyn thought almost resembled seriousness for once. “If having a round-the-clock bodyguard would make Caitlyn feel safer in the coming weeks following Erik’s release, we get her one. Here’s the twist,” he flashed a smile at the two women who watched with amusement. “Since Cait doesn’t want the media or fans speculating, we find a bodyguard who agrees to pose as a partner. Someone who could be seen anywhere and everywhere alongside Caitlyn with zero suspicions.”
The dreadful sound of purposefully slow clapping from Mel filled the room as both women held in laughter. “That was beautiful, Jayce. Poetic, even.” Jayce stuck up his middle finger in response, taking a sip of his drink.
“What do you think, Caitlyn? Who knows…maybe you’ll fall in love. It’s about time you find someone.” Jayce shrugged.
“Really? A fake girlfriend? I regret to inform you, Jayce, that we are not starring in some rom-com movie. Besides, I seriously doubt anyone would buy it. I’m better off with just my driver and Vander.” Caitlyn smirked, shaking her head. Jayce scoffed, furrowing his eyebrows in annoyance.
Vander was Caitlyn’s primary bodyguard ever since she had first started touring in her twenties. He was reliable, well-mannered, and respected Caitlyn’s boundaries without hesitation. However, he was an older gentleman, and despite his vast toolbelt of combat skills and training, Caitlyn felt bad for dragging him along with her so often and tried to give him long periods of paid time off when she didn’t have any big events to attend.
“I’m being sincere, Cait, I promise. You haven’t dated anyone publicly in years, since before all the drama! Picture it,” Jayce said, making dramatic gestures with his hands. “The media and your fans would go wild over something like this. It could fill the tabloids for months—long enough for Erik’s spotlight to burn out,” he argued, determination evident in his tone.
“Whatever,” Caitlyn mumbled, practically begging to change the subject. “I’ll think about it.”
Jayce’s fist pumped into the air as he pranced out of Mel’s office, already eager to come up with a list of contenders for Caitlyn’s pretend partner.
***
When Caitlyn arrived home, she was greeted by her dogs who excitedly weaved in and out between her legs, (slightly uncoordinated because of their size), tails wagging as Caitlyn hung her coat up.
“Hello, my darlings! Would you two like treats?” she asked in her high-pitched puppy voice that she would never admit to. She fed the dogs their treats and then plopped down on her sofa, sighing. Caitlyn couldn’t stop thinking about Jayce’s idiotic suggestion from earlier at Mel’s office. He did have a point—Caitlyn hadn’t dated anyone in years. Well, not officially.
She had hooked up with a smaller artist, Maddie Nolen on and off last year, but it didn’t work out for the better. Maddie wanted to expand her career and was purely driven by the rush of publicity and fame—especially when boosted by Caitlyn. In contrast, Caitlyn appreciated her treasured privacy and low-profile activities—both hard to obtain in the music industry. Still, both women disagreed too much to chase after any sort of compatibility.
It wasn’t necessarily that Caitlyn hadn’t been looking for a relationship, it had just never been a priority for her. She felt plenty fulfilled with her friends, family, and most importantly—her dogs. Sexually, well, she had her vibrator for that. Besides, at a young age, she had concluded that her career would take up the majority of her attention and energy. Thus, she never felt comfortable enough to commit to anything long-term.
Caitlyn had come out as a lesbian publicly during an interview for a talk show a few years back, and though many outsiders pointed fingers and jumped to conclusions deciding that Caitlyn had “switched” to women because of what happened with Erik, Caitlyn stayed true to herself and her values. Her sexuality was a major part of both. She was a lesbian far before she had announced it publicly and before Erik had come into her life, wrecking it.
Because Caitlyn and her publicists had decided to keep her perspective of events regarding Erik private, most people who heard of the situation—whether through news or media—assumed that Erik and Caitlyn had been in some sort of relationship. This, however, was never the case. She only ever knew Erik as an obsessed fan in his late forties who one day began following her around Piltover. Every day she forced herself to bite her tongue to keep from shouting from the rooftops that she would never, ever date a man…especially one like Erik Johnson.
When Caitlyn had just started making music as a teenager, her mom had given her a piece of wisdom that had clung to her throughout her entire career thus far. “Fame comes with a price. The question is whether you’re willing to pay that price every day or not.”
Fame came with an expensive ass price tag, and occasionally, Caitlyn Kiramman wished she had never opened her wallet.
A sudden but familiar knock on the front door initially startled Caitlyn, until she saw Vander’s figure emerge in the doorframe. A long time ago, Vander and Caitlyn had come up with a specific series of knocks to let the other know when one was entering the home—since they each had the passcode—so that neither (mainly Caitlyn) would be surprised or scared.
“Hey, kiddo,” Vander said in his warm, crackly tone. “Just stopping by for the good ol’ routine security checks. I’ll be in and out real fast,” he explained.
“Thank you,” Caitlyn said softly. “Actually…Vander? I need your opinion on something.”
“Of course, anything.” Vander reacted immediately, heading over to the chair next to the sofa Caitlyn was sitting on.
“You’ve been in the Close Protective Agency for a long time, yes? I just…I need to know what your thoughts are regarding something Jayce proposed to me earlier this morning.”
“Jayce? Well, this should be interesting.” Vander chuckled, leaning back in his chair.
Caitlyn hesitated for a moment before launching into a lengthy explanation of the idea. She noted how exactly it would benefit her as well as give her a sense of normalcy for once in her life just by having someone to lean on who would also kick someone’s ass for Caitlyn. She waited for Vander’s response, half-expecting a sigh of disapproval or hurt. The last thing she wanted was for him to think he was being replaced in any way. The truth was, there was only so much Vander could do at his age and Caitlyn would prefer a bodyguard who constantly stayed around the house with her—at least temporarily.
Instead, Vander let out a low chuckle. “So let me get this straight. You want to hire a bodyguard—who also pretends to be your girlfriend—so the media doesn’t catch wind of what’s really going on?”
Caitlyn groaned, throwing her head back. “Well, when you phrase it like that it sounds ridiculous.”
“Because it is ridiculous,” Vander grinned. “Who the hell are you going to find that’s willing to be your watchdog and play the role of pretend girlfriend at the same time?” he questioned, an eyebrow raised.
“I don’t know.” Caitlyn huffed as she slid deeper into the sofa. “Jayce is already putting together a list.”
Vander scoffed playfully. “Great. I’m sure we’ll see a real professional lineup.”
Caitlyn smirked despite herself. “My thoughts exactly.” There was another long pause before Vander spoke again, his tone softer this time; more genuine.
“Look, Kiramman, I understand why this is something you’re considering and I get why you’re scared. But a stunt like this? It’s temporary. What happens when it’s all over? Do you think the media’s just gonna let it go? Do you think Erik’s just gonna disappear?”
Caitlyn swallowed hard. “No,” she whispered. Caitlyn felt a lump rise in her throat, anxiety bubbling in her chest. Vander had been with her since the beginning—through every high and every horrifying low. If anyone understood what was at stake, it was him. “You think it’s a bad idea,” she murmured.
“I think it’s a bandage on a bullet wound,” Vander admitted. “But I also think you deserve to feel safe, even if it means pulling something as crazy as this. If you’re sure about this and committed, I’ll support you, alright?”
“Thank you, Vander.” Caitlyn nodded, offering a weak smile as he stood up to complete his rounds. As she let his words settle, she nodded slowly to herself. Vander wasn’t wrong—this was indeed a temporary solution, but in a world where Caitlyn felt like she had no control, maybe temporary was the best she could do.
For now.
***
A few hours later into the evening, Caitlyn sat cross-legged on a porch swing on her back patio, Rocky’s massive head resting against her thigh while Bella lay under Caitlyn’s feet sprawled out comfortably. She took a sip of wine as she thought about Vander’s words from earlier.
“It’s a bandage on a bullet wound.”
Caitlyn leaned back on the swing. Could she do this? Could she spend weeks—maybe months—pretending to be in a relationship for the sake of optics? The idea felt ridiculous, but at the same time…so did the alternative.
The media would be relentless; they always were. No matter how many times she had begged for privacy, and pleaded for distance at her lowest, they continued to pry, twisting narratives and spinning headlines until she barely recognized herself in them.
“Fame comes with a price.”
Would faking something be more exhausting than fighting them off? Or would it be an added layer of stress on top of an already collapsing foundation? Caitlyn sighed, running a hand down Rocky’s back.
“Well, my darlings,” she murmured, glancing down between her two dogs. “If I do this, you’re going to have to approve of whoever I pick.”
Rocky huffed in response, his big brown eyes blinking up at Caitlyn. Bella let out a low whine—her version of an opinion, Caitlyn figured. “Yeah, I know. No one’s ever good enough for your standards…not even Vander.” she reached down, scratching behind Bella’s ears. “But if I’m going to have some stranger practically living in our space, you’re going to have to play nice.”
Caitlyn was still lost in thought when her phone buzzed on the coffee table. She gently pushed Rocky’s heavy head out of her lap to reach her phone, her heart sinking when she saw the unknown number. Caitlyn’s body tensed instantly. She knew even before reading the text that it wouldn’t be good.
Unknown Number: See you soon, sweetheart. Missed you.
Caitlyn’s breath hitched. Her vision blurred and her grip tightened around the phone. For a moment, all she could hear was the rush of blood in her ears, the way her pulse quickened, rapidly thrumming against her ribs. The text could’ve been from anyone. Her mom could have gotten a new phone number for fuck’s sake. But the irrational side of Caitlyn’s mind began to eat away at any logical explanations she could have at that moment.
Erik would be out in three days. He would be free, and Caitlyn was sure as hell he wouldn’t waste a second reminding her of it.
Rocky and Bella must’ve sensed the shift in her body language because they both lifted their heads, ears perked up, bodies alert. Bella let out a low, warning growl as she scanned their surroundings. Caitlyn took a deep breath. They were alone out here in Caitlyn’s fenced-in backyard, mere steps from the house.
Enough. She was tired of feeling like prey. Tired of waiting for the inevitable. If Jayce’s idea was even half as effective as he thought it would be, then Caitlyn had no other choice. Her fingers trembled as she hit the call button. The line rang only once before Jayce picked up.
“Changed your mind, huh?” His voice was smug, but for once Caitlyn didn’t roll her eyes or scoff in the slightest.
“Find me someone.”
***