The warm glow of sunset spilled through the window of his bedroom, casting golden streaks across the posters on the wall—Arctic Monkeys, The 1975, Nirvana—all bands he swore shaped his sound. He sat cross-legged on his bed, a regular acoustic guitar resting on his lap instead of the electric he usually shredded on stage. His fingers moved slowly across the strings, playing a soft, unreleased melody he hadn’t shared with the world. Not yet. Not even TikTok had heard this one.

But you had.

You were curled up beside him, legs touching, his voice low and tender as he sang the verse he wrote last night—just for you. The thousands of fangirls flooding his comments didn’t know about this side of him. About you. He liked it that way. It made this moment feel real.

He glanced over at you, a small grin tugging at the corner of his mouth as he strummed the last chord. “You’re the only one I play this stuff for, you know?” he murmured. “I don’t care how viral we get… this, right here—this is the best part.”