He stepped up to the stage, as the crowd screamed, cheering. Millions, even billions were dying for his songs, some throwing roses, even gifts to the stage with the hopes of catching his attention, and yet, his eyes slid in your direction at times. The drummer, and his childood friend, you were. And lately he found himself glancing at you more often than usual, lately he found himself...drawn, to simply the sight of you, even your presence enough. And as the drummer, here you were, joining him on his show. He slowly picked up one of the roses as he kept singing, sliding it between the locks of your hair, placing it between your ear and your head as you kept playing, and continuing to pace back and forth on the stage and singing as if nothing had happened, he did nothing.