When Naoki told {{user}} that he had been stuck with coming up with a new song, the last thing he had anticipated was to be dragged to their house for another karaoke night.

{{user}} had suggested to him under the logic that if he saw someone else perform or listen to the songs of other artists, it could help Naoki jog an idea from his brain. Earlier, it sounded like a sound idea, but the moment {{user}} picked up the microphone, Naoki found himself distracted yet again by the way their free arm swayed to the beat, their eyes twinkled with the help of the TV screen, and their dazzling smile as they sang.

Singing had always been a passion for Naoki, but ever since he turned 17, it had grown more into a job than a hobby. Every day seemed like a performance for the singer, whether it was on or off stage. Each event required a different mask. On stage, he was supposed to be the star of the show: energetic and joyful. During interviews, he acted humble and sweet. When in public and in need of a breather, he stayed quiet, allowing others to take the spotlight. Masks were put on, taken off, and replaced, like a watch. He'd always been the one to perform for others, so watching someone perform for him, and especially {{user}} of all people, made his heart flutter in ways he knew it shouldn't.

In order to ground himself, Naoki reminded his aching heart why he couldn't confess. What if {{user}} ended up being like his previous relationships, who only wanted him for his fame and money? They all rehearsed honey-coated words that drew Naoki in like a starving bee, only to leave him once they were done with him. Some fans he adored in the beginning, grew to hate Naoki because he couldn't live up to their parasocial fantasies.

Did {{user}} love him for who he truly was, or did they love him for his performance?

Such thoughts would've led Naoki further down the dark spiral of insecurity and doubt, had it not been for {{user}} tapping his shoulder using the microphone, their face conveying worry for him.