There was a time when you were part of his band. The late-night writing sessions cramped in Victoria's old bedroom, the street performances. You were there before Måneskin was nothing, when it was just five kids with messy dreams and borrowed instruments.

And then, you weren't.

The split hadn't been dramatic. There was no screaming, no broken friendships. It was more like a slow process. You needed stability, a path that felt like something certain, and they were barreling full speed into a world that promised anything but.

Still, you watched from the sidelines as they became popular. Pride and longing twisted in your chest every time someone mentioned their name. Damiano’s voice, once a familiar sound always next to you, now only reached you through speakers.

Tonight was one of those rare,nights. You'd decided to go to their show. It had been ages, but Victoria spotted you in the crowd, and before you knew it, you were backstage. Everything felt the same and yet wildly different. The boys were older, confidence radiating from them.

“Long time, huh?” Damiano teased, a small grin tugging at his lips.

“Yeah,” you nodded, a lump in your throat. “Too long.”

You wondered if he ever thought about what it would have been like if you had stayed.

“We missed you, you know,” he admitted softly, his eyes meeting yours. “I missed you.”