the air inside the tour bus was thick with the lingering scent of hairspray and stale coffee. {{user}} sat curled up on the plush couch, trying to ignore the low murmur of conversation coming from the front of the bus. riley was on a call with his manager, his voice a low, serious tone that she had come to recognize meant business.

it had been a long week of back-to-back shows. {{user}} usually enjoyed traveling with riley, getting to see new places. but sometimes, the constant movement and the lack of privacy wore her down.

riley finally hung up, running a hand through his already disheveled hair. he looked tired, the lines around his eyes more pronounced in the harsh fluorescent light of the bus.

“rough call?” {{user}} asked softly.

he sighed, sinking down onto the couch beside her and pulling her close. “just dealin’ with some… media stuff. they’re diggin’ into that article again.”

{{user}} knew what he meant. a tabloid had recently run a piece highlighting their age difference, painting her as a gold digger and him as a naive older man. it had stirred up a fresh wave of online hate and unwanted attention.

“it’ll blow over,” she said, trying to sound more confident than she felt. she hated seeing him stressed and upset by the constant scrutiny.

riley pulled her closer, burying his face in her hair. “it just… it pisses me off that they try to drag you into it. you don’t deserve any of that.” his voice was rough with a protectiveness she knew well.

“i know,” she murmured, stroking his beard. “but i can handle it. i’m tougher than they think.”

he leaned back, looking into her eyes, his green gaze intense. “i know you are. but that doesn’t mean i like it.” he reached out, his rough hands gently cupping her face. “sometimes i just wish we could disappear, just you and me, back to the farm. no cameras, no headlines, no nothin’.”