A/N -Hi all. This fic gets a little dark for a few chapters, and I would once again like to add in. CAT IS A FICTIONAL CHARACTER NOT ARIANA GRANDE. I have obviously taken a lot of influence from Ariana's career progression within this to keep it more realistic but from now I am stopping (at least for a while). I'm about to write a bit plot shifter.
Not to spoil, but needed, Trigger Warning for drug mention & use for a few chapters.
The transition from North America to Europe had brought a change of scenery, but also a newfound lonliness. She missed Jade. Sure, there were phone calls and texts, but it wasn't the same. The absence of Jade left a void that no amount of applause could fill. In North America, Jade had been there—sneaking into her dressing room, cheering from backstage. Now, Cat was crossing time zones without her, and every day felt a little less meaningful despite the growing success of the tour.
Europe was everything Cat had dreamed it would be when she was younger. She was playing to sold-out venues in Paris, Berlin, Amsterdam, and cities she hadn't even known existed until she arrived. The crowds screamed her name. Fans sang every word of her songs back to her, holding up handmade signs with messages that melted her heart. But in between the performances, she felt untethered. Alone.
Her team noticed. Always efficient, they filled her evenings with distractions—photoshoots, interviews, meet-and-greets, more and more vocal training. They coordinated her schedule down to the minute, leaving little room for thought. Cat barely protested anymore, too exhausted to push back. It was easier to let them handle everything, to let the tide of obligations carry her through the day.
During her show in Munich, the weariness caught up with her, and she didn't even realise she was being joined onstage for one of her songs. As the opening notes of her duet with Big Shay began, he walked onstage. Shay was in town for his own show the next night, and they'd joked over text about surprising the audience. It had seemed harmless at the time but apparently his team had actually arranged something.
The crowd went wild the moment he walked out. Shay, ever calm and collected, leaned into the energy, grinning and playing up to the vibe of the song. Their voices melded with an undeniable chemistry—playful and teasing—and the fans ate it up. When Shay leaned in during the bridge, their faces only inches apart, the screams in the arena were deafening.
Cat barely noticed it then, caught up in the adrenaline of the performance, but the consequences were impossible to ignore the next day.
Shay appeared on a morning talk show, still riding the high of their duet. When the host asked about the rumors already swirling, he smirked. "Caterina's amazing to work with. Super talented. And, yeah, she's cute too. Really cute."
The clip went viral within hours. Every tabloid and gossip blog had a take. Social media was awash with speculation about their relationship. Clips of their onstage closeness flooded her timeline.
Cat hated it.
Her PR team, predictably, didn't. "This is perfect," her manager gushed during a meeting. "It's great buzz for the tour and your image."
"My image?" Cat repeated, incredulous.
"This keeps people talking. Keeps them interested."
Cat couldn't argue with that logic, but she didn't care about the attention. She cared about what Jade would think, sitting thousands of miles away and scrolling through those same headlines. The thought made her stomach turn. She texted Jade briefly that evening, keeping it casual, but the guilt lingered.
Jade was good at understanding the pressures of Cat's career. She knew how fake most of the industry's narratives were. Didn't she? But understanding and not being hurt were two different things. Cat thought about calling her, explaining everything, but she didn't. Not because she didn't care, but because she couldn't muster the energy to unpack it all.
The truth was, Cat was tired. Tired in a way that sleep didn't fix. The tour, which was meant to be nothing but amazing, had become a grind. City after city, stage after stage, the excitement was fading under the weight of exhaustion. Even her backstage crew started whispering about her, though not in malice.
"If she's that tired, there are options," someone said once, thinking she couldn't hear. "Nothing crazy, just something to keep her going."
Cat had bristled at the suggestion. The idea of taking anything to "pep her up" felt wrong, even as she dragged herself through each day. She refused, always. But the fact that people thought she needed it stung.
That suggestion first came up casually, in passing. But when Cat had been slumped in a makeup chair, barely able to keep her eyes open as a stylist worked on her hair for the evening's show it was brought up more directly.
"You're doing amazing," her manager said, standing nearby. "But if you're feeling this wiped, there are, you know, ways to keep your energy up. A lot of people in your position use them."
Cat blinked, unsure if she'd heard right. "What do you mean? Like vitamins or something?"
Her manager's smile was tight. "Sure, vitamins. Or other options. Nothing harmful, just enough to help you get through the schedule."
Cat felt a wave of nausea at the implication. "No. I'm fine."
But she wasn't. The long flights, constant rehearsals, and endless press obligations were wearing her down. Every morning, she woke up more exhausted than the day before. She started snapping at people over small things, crying at the oddest times, and zoning out during conversations.
The more tired she got, the more the suggestions came. Quiet, well-meaning whispers backstage. Comments slipped into conversations during meetings.
"Everyone does it, Cat," someone said once. "It's not a big deal."
But to her, it was. Cat had always been fiercely anti-drug. Growing up, she'd seen how addiction could tear lives apart, how it had affected her family. How it broke Matteo. She wasn't about to let herself fall into that trap—not for a career, not for anything.
Still, the pressure didn't stop. The more worn out she looked, the more people gently nudged her toward a solution she didn't want. She hated how they framed it as normal, as harmless, as if the answer to her exhaustion could be found in a pill or a powder.
Late one night, after another grueling show, she caught a glimpse of herself in the mirror. Her eyes were rimmed with dark circles, her face pale under the heavy stage makeup. She barely recognized the girl staring back at her.
"Are you okay, Cat?" someone had asked her earlier that day.
She hadn't answered. Because she didn't know.
She thought about Jade. About how Jade would react if she saw her like this. Would she tell Cat to slow down? To take care of herself?
Would Jade be proud of how far Cat had come? Or worried about what it was costing her?
The ache of missing Jade felt sharper in that moment, cutting through the fog of her exhaustion. Cat closed her eyes, taking a deep breath. There were only a few more weeks left of the European leg, and then she'd have a break. She could hold on until then. She had to. For Jade. For herself.
Jade hadn't meant to make a habit of it, but the urge always won out in the end. She found herself googling Cat far more than she cared to admit, her laptop or phone screen constantly lit with search results, YouTube clips, and social media updates.
At first, it was just to stay connected. The tour had whisked Cat away to the other side of the world, and with their time zones out of sync, it was hard to catch her awake, let alone free for a call. Watching her performances, interviews, and fan-filmed snippets was the closest Jade could get to seeing how she was doing.
But the more she watched, the harder it became to stay positive. Cat was breathtaking on stage, no doubt. Every note, every move, was perfect—sometimes too perfect. It was in the way she smiled, all wide and dazzling, but never quite reaching her eyes. It was in the little things, like the slight delay in her responses during interviews or how she clutched her water bottle like it was a lifeline.
And then there was Big Shay. That insufferable "she's cute" crack still replayed in Jade's mind, making her stomach churn. She knew it was for PR—just another ploy to keep Cat in the headlines—but knowing that didn't make it any easier. The chemistry-heavy duet had been the cherry on top, setting the internet ablaze with rumours. Jade had cursed him a hundred times for his stupid grin and proximity to Cat.
More than anything, though, it was hard to see why Cat kept going. Jade knew her girlfriend loved performing, but this... this wasn't just performing. The tour, the press, the endless cycle of appearances—it didn't look good for her. And Jade hated that she was powerless to stop it.
She tried to keep herself busy, pouring her energy into College. Her film group had become a solid little crew, people who didn't freak out or ask incessant questions about her connection to Cat. They were creative, driven, and good at what they did. Together, they made the kinds of short films Jade had always dreamed of—raw, moody, and full of layered meaning.
One afternoon, as they huddled around a table in the campus library reviewing a script, Jade found herself distracted again. Her phone, sitting face-up beside her notebook, buzzed with a notification. Another clip of Cat's performance from the night before.
She opened it, ignoring the glance from the girl sitting across from her. The clip wasn't long, just Cat belting out one of her songs, drenched in stage lights. But even in those few seconds, Jade could see how exhausted she looked.
"You okay?" one of her groupmates asked, noticing the way Jade's expression had shifted.
"Yeah," Jade muttered, locking her phone and turning her attention back to the script. "Fine."
But she wasn't. Not really. Watching Cat push herself like this, so far away and so unreachable, gnawed at her constantly. The worst part wasn't even the rumours or the relentless media machine. It was knowing Cat was out there, fighting to stay afloat, and Jade couldn't do a thing to help.