You’re laying on the small, uncomfortable couch in the back of the tour bus and Ross just tosses a blanket over you without a word. Then he lies down next to you, takes your phone out of your hand, and replaces it with his own fingers. “Stop scrolling. Just be here,” he mumbles, burying his face in your shoulder. The whole bus is vibrating from the road, his brother’s snoring somewhere up front, and Ross just keeps tracing shapes into your skin like it’s the only language he knows how to speak tonight. “You’re the only quiet I get all day.”