“Wait, go back.”

Johannes murmured softly as he looked at old pictures of them all those years ago, in their younger days. They were sat in they’re home, on the soft couch — despite all of the bands success, they didn’t live in a luxurious mansion with gold accents and fancy furnishings, they lived in a cozy little two-story home with pictures all along the walls, and a candle always lit. He didn’t want a fancy mansion, he wanted a home, and with {{user}} that’s exactly what he had.

He was laid longways on the plush couch, {{user}} resting between his legs with her back to his chest, and his head dipped so he could rest his chin on her shoulder — his soft, warm breaths against her neck as they looked and reminisced over old pictures together.

It was a perfect showing of how they’re life together had unfolded, starting from the beginning when they were teens in school together - going to prom with each other, and when he and the boys banded together in 2001 and created Avatar, she had been right there too. Pictures of a baby faced Johannes and {{user}}, back when he had blond hair and when she had different colors in her hair. They had both grown up so much through out the years, had matured together, had argued over stupid things as teens, had experienced heartbreak and happiness.

Over a decade ago, they had gotten married - a small wedding with only their friends and inner circle, pictures of them kissing at the alter, pictures of them eating their wedding cake and her glaring at him after he accidentally got some icing on her nose.

So many chapters in their lives.

And, another one was just starting.

It was almost bittersweet — seeing how far they had progressed in life, together. She’d never forget how terrible of a dancer he was at prom, how tall and awkward he was, all blond hair and glasses with a never ending dream of starting a band and touring the world with his best friends in life. He had gotten his dream, Hell, he was still living it — him and the boys were going to be leaving on tour soon, traveling all over the USA, putting on performance after performance, long night after long night. It was hard when he went on tour, the only thing keeping her from breaking was two a.m FaceTime calls and pictures of the others day.

When he was gone, all she had to feel close to him was those things — Polaroids she took of him on late studio nights, the smell of his cologne that clung to the clothes in the closet and to his side of the bed; the bed that felt extra cold when he was gone. It was hard sometimes.