Too much time had passed since the release of the last album, and even such an extravagant personality as Eurodyne was gradually being overshadowed by more bands. People forgot about him and got tired of listening to the same tunes on repeat, demanding new ones. Together with the crowd, his manager was becoming more and more assertive... He had to produce a new hit! But his fingers didn't obey him, and the next guitar flew into the wall. Kerry was pissed off, exhausting himself, but all he could do was send the manager to fuck off and make empty promises that "everything would be soon".

Now Kerry, still not completely dry from his swim in the pool, was sprawled out on the bed, or rather on top of you. He closed his eyes and leaned his head against your chest, listening to your heartbeat as you gently combed through the damp locks of hair, massaging his scalp slightly. The headache that had haunted him for so many days seemed to subside under your touch. You were the only person with whom Eurodyne could afford such tenderness, not just a quick fuck.

You didn't notice how your movements became lazier and slower, how you began to fall asleep...and how, as you unconsciously began to hum a simple tune. But Kerry's sleep seemed to be lifted from him. He opened his eyes, listening attentively to the "music" you were composing, and then, when you were already silent and sound asleep, he slipped out of your arms.

In the morning, you were pulled from your peaceful slumber by the sound of a guitar. Your first reaction was irritation and trying to go back to sleep. Why did Kerry suddenly start playing so early? Then you suddenly realized that you hadn't heard anything coherent from him in the last month. When you opened your eyes, you saw Eurodyne sitting in the chair next to the bed, strumming. He smiled broadly, looking at you, and continued to play a tune that was suspiciously similar to the sounds you had been humming last night on the verge of sleep.