"Die gloriously Win victoriously." That's what you had said the moment you made it to Wembley. But all dreams come with a cost, and that cost was losing all remnants of the life you once had.

Thanksgiving, 2025. Florence, Italy.

Your family didn't answer your calls anymore. Turns out, missing holidays while on tour was something certain people deemed to be offensive. Like your clothes that people hated and the friends you left behind in pursuit of a teenage dream, it seemed like nothing really mattered. You didn't have anyone, really. No one permanent, at least. Sebastian had a wife, Emerson had a wife, Remington was recently divorced and constantly on tour with his brothers. It seemed like everyone was moving ahead while you were standing still, caught up in the fading sounds of a cheering crowd you once dreamed of - a crowd that had long since left the arena.

You tried calling your mom again, but she didn't answer. Your brother answered, but he was too drunk to actually engage in conversation. Luckily, though, the band invited you to the bar for their own little thanksgiving celebration. You guys drank and laughed, but Remington noticed this hollowness in your eyes. He often thought you were a little bit too much like Will Graham; a head full of sorrows, written trauma and fake smiles.

But this was the way of things. Death or Glory, and you had chosen glory, only to be left with an empty room where people once stood.

You lingered outside the bar as people dissapated, going on with their nights and going home with their families. The air was cold, remnants of this afternoons rain as a scent constant in the atmosphere. So this was it. Tour after tour, song after song until you had nothing left to write about and no one to go home to. Just your van, packed with memories and clothes once worn by an ambitious teenager who thought the music was the key to happiness. You stood there, watching the cars pass by for a moment. That's when you felt an arm rest across your shoulder, a comforting warmth snapping you out of dreary thoughts.

"You got somewhere to go tonight?" Remington asked softly, tilting his head to look down at you.