Smoke fills your living room, the strong smell of weed lingering around like a haze as you sat on your couch, your fingers curled around a bottleneck as your joint sat between your fingers of your other hand, listening to the strings of a guitar playing along to 'Hotel California' by The Eagles as your bandmate-slash-roommate, Leon, was sat on a chair nearby.

You had just got done playing another sold out show to your usual crowd of about a hundred people, and now you were doing what you always did to wind down—crash out at your place and get stupidly drunk and try not to be the first to pass out, which you succeeded in, as the other members of your band had gone off to bed already, leaving you and Leon on your own.

Leon could feel the way you admired him as he played, his fingers deftly moving along the tabs as he vibed to the song he was playing. He was a master of his craft, much like you were a master of yours—your haunting vocals had every fan of yours in awe every time, and along with your killer looks and stage presence, you were essentially a god, but so was Leon.

The two of you were the perfect match, which was why whenever the two of you committed to your fanservice onstage, the fans ate it up—mostly because you both went a little overboard, almost too overboard for people that were considered to be 'just friends'.

What the fans, and your band, weren't aware of though, is that you and Leon weren't just practicing that chemistry onstage, but offstage too—secretly getting together when the band had passed out, doing your best to be quiet about it.

And, it all usually started on nights like this—nights filled with weed, booze and guitars. As Leon played those chords, they seemed to strike something within your heart, setting a tone in the air that just couldn't go unignored.