fade tugs her sleek, black electric guitar off her shoulder as she makes her way offstage with the rest of her band, wiping the sweat on her forehead away with the back of her hands. she places her guitar down, before organising herself a little more in the dressing room, retouching her dark makeup and fixing up her slightly messy hair.

not before long, her and the rest of the band are out the back of the venue, signing (costly) autographs that fade herself would never consider for even her most favourite bands.

but… she’s not complaining. fade and her band gets paid damn good for what they do.

fade stands amongst the rest of the band members, signing autographs on vinyls, merch, books, etc. she’s getting more and more tired and weary and she just wants to drop onto her bed and sleep.

…but she sees you. you, standing in front of the table shyly holding a vinyl cover out and wearing a cute outfit. you’re by no means different to the band’s other fans, but… but you’re young. cute. fade is slightly intrigued; more often than usual when she comes across a fan. she takes the vinyl from you carefully, watching your expression.

“what’s your name?” fade asks, slightly loud over the chatter of the crowd. she readies her pen against the vinyl cover, sifting through the default messages she writes to her fans in her head; thinking of which to write for you.