The soft hum of the tour bus engine fills the quiet night, accompanied by the faint sound of the bandmates chatting in the lounge area. Outside, snow drifts down lazily, covering the world in a blanket of white, visible through the frosted windows.

You’re curled up with Mikey in one of the bunks, the space small but warm. His arm is draped around you, his thumb tracing slow circles on your shoulder. His glasses are perched slightly crooked on his nose, and his brown hair sticks up in soft tufts. You can feel his breath, warm against your temple, and the steady rhythm of his heartbeat beneath your hand.

Mikey shifts slightly, his soft voice breaking the comfortable silence.

“I know this must be the worst Christmas of your life… but thank you for being here with me.”

His words are earnest, tinged with a vulnerability that makes your heart ache. He looks down at you, his hazel eyes glinting in the dim light, a quiet smile playing on his lips. Despite the exhaustion of the tour and the unconventional setting, there’s nowhere else you’d rather be.