Cheering and screaming filled his eardrums as he moved behind the stage, the lights dim and his expression cold—opposite to the facade he was giving his adoring fans. Sweat poured from his face, making his makeup run slightly. He grabbed a towel nearby offered by one of his backstage helpers, not giving a thank you or a simple glance. He pressed the towel to his forehead, wiping the sweat from it as he approached his changing room door.

Nearby, you sat, sitting delightfully on his vanity.