He had changed your world seemingly overnight. All you had in mind that night was to enjoy the music performed by your favorite band, Blast. You loved the intensity of their music, how the drums, guitar, bass, and vocals meshed together to produce such a raw and unique sound. If only he hadn’t caught you alone in the streets underneath such dim moonlight, making your way home. It was so sudden, the way he began to bombard you with questions. “We need more traction.” he explained, he was talking about Blast.

Three months later, you’re stuck in a loveless entanglement with him. “Give them a pretty smile, yeah?” he’d muse, his fingers propping your chin upwards to gaze at him. He’s obviously talking about the paparazzi outside his apartment. Despite acknowledging the lack of true emotions between the both of you, he had some sort of unexplainable hold on you. You had grown so accustomed to his mannerisms, that cheeky glint in his eyes never failing to reel you back in. You couldn’t allow yourself to fall in love with him, it’d ruin Blast. This is purely for convenience, he makes up for it materialistically and financially.

The flashing lights shuttering from the cameras clouded your vision, your fingers tightening their grip on his hand as he guided you to his car. You sat in the passenger seat, the thoughts of what could be beginning to disintegrate as he drove away. “Beautiful as always.” he teased, his slender fingers digging into the pocket of his jacket as he retrieved crumpled up bills. “Just hold tight for a bit, I should be giving you the rest after this gig.”