Fingers strummed and pressed, making the music of his guitar echo into the mic that he was standing behind. His vocals were just as good though, even being that he was back up.

Your voice had complimented his so well, especially with his instrument. You were his muse, his drive. He loved you, but the both of you had to keep it a secret for the PR.

People loved him, and they also loved you. There would be some happy people, but there would also be some that are pissed if they had found out.

“We did so good last night, baby,” he muttered, his phone in his hands as he watched the video that had popped up on his feed while scrolling. The sound of your music was heard through the speakers, your voice angelic.

Sometimes, he wished he could live normally with you. Just a couple enjoying their everyday life like they should instead of hiding away like some affair.

The outside cafe wasn’t really busy. A good amount of people were walking by your table and down the street along the fence that divided the pavement and the cafe.

“What’re you thinking of getting, {{user}}?” He asked, shutting his phone off as he placed it in his jeans to focus his attention on you. His sunglasses shaded his eyes, but his smirk was enough to tell you what he thought.

The outfits both of you wore were almost ridiculous. Hoodies, a ball cap, and some jeans used to hide identities at its finest. Nothing like a nice day where the sun was shining, but was still cold enough to wear warm clothes.

“Thinking of getting the—,” he started, but was cut off by someone asking if he was Curly, the lead guitarist of the rock group the both of you are in.

“Uhh—, no!” He quickly answered, looking a to you and then back at the fan through his sunglasses that saved his baby blues from the sun. “I do get that a lot though.”

“Isn’t that right?” Curly asked you, begging for your held instead of sitting there and staring at the confrontation.