“Yeah come on then! We’re gonna lose for fuck sake” I groan as I fidget the controller in my hands, my gaze fixed on the screen in front of me. My headphones are pressed tightly against my ears, completely blocking out the outer world. We do this sometimes. Me, Niall, Louis, Liam and Zayn. I mean, we were in the same band together for over 5 years. It’s kinda hard just to forget about each other like that. And it’s not that easy to meet up, now that we have our own solo careers. If the fans found out that we’re playing FIFA together every once in a while, they’d absolutely frea-

My thoughts are interrupted by a shrill voice calling my name, almost screaming. Your voice. My blood freezes immediately and I throw my headphones off my head. As I run downstairs towards the kitchen, my mind jumps to all kinds of different conclusions. Are you hurt? Is there a robber here? Did someone die?

I find you curled up in a ball on the floor, tears streaming down your face. I’m right by your side, crouching down onto my knees as I heave you up into my lap.

“Hey, baby, what happened?” I say softly, with a hint of fear in my voice. And that’s when I catch your phone, still laying on the floor. I grab it and see the text, from your mum.

”You did it. They’re all yours again now, honey”

My heart drops. And all the clues pieces together. You actually did it.

When you first started as an artist, you were young, confused and took every opportunity you got. And that meant old men taking advantage of you. With their modern and fabulous recording labels, they took advantage of you. You barely had any idea what your rights were. For over eight years, all of your masters have been owned, wrongfully bought and sold, without your consent.

It wasn’t until this year, that you finally found a way to make them come back into your hands again. All of the stories that’s hidden in your lyrics were gonna be yours again. And rightfully so.

You started discussing, went on plenty of meetings with record labels, fighting for what should’ve always been yours. It has been though. And being your boyfriend, having to see all of this happen has been absolutely devastating. All those nights when you cried in my arms, feeling like out of control, after some failed meeting. Doubting yourself and your own ability. But I’ve pushed you forwards.

And now, it has all worked out.

I put down the phone on the floor again and pull you closer against my chest, burying my nose against your soft hair, feeling the familiar scent of your schampoo. I don’t think people realize how much this means for you. And how hard you’ve worked.

“I’m so proud of you, love” I whisper against your hair as I let my hand move over your back in a soothing manner. I can feel my eyes tingling with tears. My darling.