...
The mont Von and Julian stepped onto the stage, the Star Theater erupted.
"YEAHHHHHHH!"
The noise was deafening, a wall of sound that hit them the second the lights ca up. Over a thousand people were on their feet, screaming, stomping, and waving signs. It rained down on them for what felt like an eternity, a chaotic mix of adoration for Julian and grudging, stunned respect for Von.
Michael stood center stage, holding a single red envelope. He waited, letting the noise wash over him, before finally raising a hand.
"I can hear it! Really!" Michael shouted, bending over theatrically as if trying to listen to the heartbeats of the two finalists.
The audience laughed, the tension breaking for a split second.
"But seriously," Michael said, wiping sweat from his brow. "If I were standing where these two young n are standing right now... I’d be sweating buckets. One million dollars is on the line, folks!"
The crowd roared again, but beneath the excitent, there was a tension. The vibe in the room was split.
The die-hard Julian fans were screaming his na, but a significant portion of the audience was silent, looking at Von with a mixture of guilt and awe. They knew who had won the performance battle. They knew who had the raw talent. But this was a popularity contest, and popularity was a fickle beast.
"Well," Michael said, his voice dropping to a serious register. "I’ll cut to the chase. Ladies and gentlen... it is ti we find out the winner of this season of Project: Star!!!!"
The lights dimd, swirling in dramatic patterns of gold and blue.
Michael pointed to the massive LED screen behind him. "Tonight, we saw two extrely talented, skillful singers face off. Their technique is undeniable. Their passion is unmatched. But... there can only be one winner."
He looked over at them.
Von stood with his hands in his pockets, feigning a nonchalant expression. Though, internally, he was very scared of not losing the final. Especially when he couldn’t help it.
Julian, on the other hand, was letting it all hang out. He had his eyes closed in "nervousness", drawing coos of sympathy from so of them.
"So..." Michael said, looking at the card in his hand. "The votes today were record-breaking. In the history of this show, we have never seen a margin this thin."
He paused for effect.
"Contestant A received a whopping 10,856,799 votes."
The crowd cheered wildly at the crazy amount of votes.
"And on the other hand," Michael continued, his voice rising. "Contestant B edged them out with 10,856,800 votes."
A collective gasp sucked the air out of the room.
One vote?
The whispers started imdiately. One single vote? The pain of losing by such a microscopic margin would be excruciating. It was cruel. It was almost impossible.
"There is only one winner," Michael said, his voice booming through the speakers. "The person going ho with a global recording contract... and ONE MILLION DOLLARS... is none other than him."
The drumroll started. A low, rumbling thrum that shook the floorboards.
"Everyone, it is with great honor I announce that Contestant B, the winner of Project: Star Season 5 is..."
...
...
The silence stretched. Ti seed to bend and warp. Von looked at Michael’s lips. Julian looked at the ceiling.
"JULIAANN WEST!!! GIVE IT UP FOR OUR NEW CHAMPION AND ARICA’S NEXT SUPERSTAR!"
Confetti cannons exploded. Gold strears filled the air. Pyrotechnics blasted from the front of the stage.
The applause was thunderous, a programd response to the spectacle. But amidst the cheers, there were confused faces. People looked at each other. Julian won by one vote? really?
But the music swelled, Julian’s victory anthem, Million Dollar Smile, blasting over the speakers.
Julian collapsed to the floor, sobbing into his hands. It was a perfect, telegenic mont of triumph.
Michael, seeing how consud Julian was, turned to Von. He gave him a quick, firm hug.
"You tried your best, kid," Michael whispered into his ear. "Good job."
Von pulled back. He didn’t look too, he simply smiled and walked out of the stage without bothering to congratulate Julian. His eyes were glued on his screen instead:
[Quest Completed!]
***
Three days had passed since the finale.
The Star Mansion, once bustling with twenty contestants and a full cara crew, was now a ghost town. The decorations were being taken down, the lights turned off.
Von lay on his bed in one of the rooms, staring at the ceiling. His small duffel bag was packed and sitting by the door.
He hadn’t seen Julian since that night. He hadn’t seen anyone, really. He had stayed in his room, ordering takeout, avoiding the internet, and waiting for his flight back to Miami.
The show had inford him that his departure flight was scheduled for this evening. It was a rcy killing.
But the final insult still stung. Yesterday, a legal representative from the network had inford him that his $100,000 runner-up prize money was being withheld pending an internal investigation regarding copyright infringent and defamation claims filed by West World Records.
They were freezing his money. They were starving him out.
"Oh, damn," Von sighed, the helplessness washing over him. He was broke. He was famous, but he couldn’t buy a sandwich. Julian had won the million, and now his father was making sure Von didn’t even get the crumbs.
Knock, knock.
Von sat up. "Yeah?"
The door opened, and a female staff mber poked her head in. She looked bored. "Mr. Varley? Your ride is here."
"My ride?" Von frowned. "My flight isn’t until 8 PM. Who’s here?"
"I don’t know," she shrugged. "Soone is here to take you ho. Security cleared it."
Von grabbed his bag, confused. Zack and Naomi were in Miami. Who would pick him up in LA?
He followed the staff mber out of the mansion, walking through the grand foyer one last ti. It felt like a lifeti ago that he had walked in here with high hopes.
They exited into the courtyard. Parked near the fountain wasn’t a limo or a town car. It was a dirty, black cargo van that looked like it had seen better days.
Leaning against the hood was a woman. She had jet-black hair cut into a sharp bob, wearing a leather jacket and smoking a cigarette with an air of absolute indifference.
Von recognized her imdiately.
It was Emily. The agent Zack had told him about.
Von stopped, gripping his bag. "What are you doing here?"
Emily took a long drag of her cigarette, exhaled a plu of smoke, and tossed the butt onto the pristine driveway, crushing it with her boot.
"Get in... Ask questions later."
She opened the driver’s side door and climbed in without waiting for an answer.
Von hesitated. This was sketchy. But he looked back at the mansion and then at the van.
Anywhere is better than here, he decided.
He threw his bag into the back and climbed into the passenger seat.
Emily brought the engine to life and took off with the van right away, leaving tire marks on the pavent.
They drove in silence for so minutes, the LA skyline passing by in a blur.
"So...?" Von finally asked, breaking the silence.
Emily glanced at him, a small smirk playing on her lips. "Congrats on your efforts, kid. You were fun to watch."
She rged onto the highway, heading north and away from LAX.
"But it’s ti I take over now," she said. "How much percentage did you want to give ? Twenty? I’ll take it."
Von frowned. "Twenty percent? Wait. Where are you taking ? The airport is the other way."
Emily laughed. "The airport? Fuck the airport. We’re not going to Miami."
She hit the gas and the van accelerated.
"We’re driving to New York," Emily said with gleaming eyes. "We have a song to release."
[END OF VOLU 1: PROJECT: STAR]
...
[A/N]
VOLU 1: COMPLETED! 🥳✨
We finally made it to the end of the first arc! Thank you all for the incredible support and for raging along with 😤. Your comnts, votes and gifts kept going, really! 🫶😊
Von might have lost the battle, but the war is just starting. Get in the van, guys... we have a song to release. 🚐💨 See you in Volu 2! 🎤🔥
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