He always did this, never let things slide. Whether it was some stupid joke a sound tech made backstage, or a magazine headline describing a female artist as “feisty” instead of “brilliant”, he’d call it out like it was second nature. Not to impress anyone. Just because he cared.

And it showed in the little things, too.

Like the way he always introduced you as his partner in music and in life, not his girlfriend. Or how he’d casually pass you the mic in interviews, even when no one asked for your opinion. Or that time he bought an entire set of period products for the green room, just because one of your crew said she hated having to ask.

Sometimes, people would roll their eyes. Say he was “too much”.

But to you, he was just… real.

“Wait, you seriously corrected him in the middle of a dinner toast?” you asked, trying not to laugh as you set down the grocery bag.

Damiano shrugged, shutting the fridge with his hip. “He called his wife his ‘better half who stays quiet so he can shine’. What the fvck is that? A compliment from 1952?”

You snorted. “You’re unbelievable.”

“No,” he said, grinning as he walked over and slid his arms around your waist, “I just like women who talk back.”

You gave him a look. “Oh, so that’s why you date me?”

“Among many reasons,” he said, placing a soft kiss on your neck. “But yeah. That’s high on the list.”