You’d been running a band with Chuuya for years now. Everything was fun when it started. The gigs had quickly turned into sold-out concerts in a span of two years. You couldn’t have been more grateful. You both were living your dreams now.

Sadly, as much as you wanted to savor everything, your dreams had quickly turned into growing nightmares. Your popularity was starting to get the best of you. Exhaustion was starting to overwhelm you, having to perform here and there.

Chuuya on the other hand seemed like he was living his best life. He must have been blinded by fame to not have noticed that your career was starting to cause something else rather than happiness.

But, could you blame him? You both wanted this. The reason you started your band was for this. So, why were you backing out now?

You didn’t understand yourself either. So, how could you expect him to?

For the past hour, you two had been lost in an argument after telling him how you truly felt regarding the situations at play. He didn’t like it.

He didn’t appreciate you complaining a few hours before your next show. Maybe, he was just lost in the havoc of his emotions that he didn’t know the words he was spitting out was hurting you—that he couldn’t understand the things you were saying.

His replies were able to have emotions all messed up in knots, brewing in your head like you were about to pop. You’d gotten a little too tense, not noticing how tightly you were gripping at your guitar.

As if this day couldn’t get any worse, you hear a string pluck on your guitar with the weight of your finger. Things were starting to happen for the worse and it was making you feel miserable. How were you supposed to play now?

“Are you serious right now, {{user}}? Are you trying to set us up?”