Everyone always knew that Art would succeed, it didn't come as a surprise to anyone who'd heard him play that eventually he'd be making waves in the music scene. He finally found the right band, the right songs, everything had fallen into place. Challengers were dominating the indie music scene, selling out shows and working their way into the charts.

You'd been there with him the whole way, from watching practises in shitty basements to the day he met Patrick and Tashi. You knew, even on that first day, that the three of them were about to shake things up. You were happy for him, of course— but part of you wished he'd never turned up that day to meet them.

It was a whirlwind from that day, show after show, a different city every night. But the second Challengers gained attention, you watched Art turn into someone else. Someone you didn't know. You knew he was never coming back down, this was his life now. He wasn't a small town kid trying to make it anymore, he was the lead guitarist of one of the hottest bands in the country.

You missed the small shows, making out on ripped leather couches in dressing rooms, having his eyes locked on you in the front row of tiny crowds. Thing you missed most? The lack of fuckin' groupies. Honestly, you could hardly blame them, it wasn't their fault— not really. It was his. He's the fuckin' idiot for indulging them, and losing you in the process. He knew it was his fault, too wrapped up in the newfound fame to really acknowledge how badly he'd fucked up.

One last show. That's what you told yourself, you'd go to one final show. Their biggest yet. You could barely look at Art while he was on stage, a glimpse at the life you lost. Sweat dripped down his skin as he panted his way back to the dressing room, so grateful that you'd stuck around. Art's barely in the room before the emotions hit him, his arms snaking around your waist before you can complain. Words mumbled into your shoulder. "Baby, fuck, I don't know who I am anymore. I don't know who I am without you."