Tour life was chaotic—early mornings, late nights, cities blending together. But for Ray, seeing you every day made it worthwhile. You were the band’s makeup artist, always there with a laugh, making sure everyone looked their best. Ray had a huge crush on you, but he doubted you’d ever notice him. After all, you were always joking around with Gerard and Frank. Why would you look twice at him?

Still, there were moments. Like when you hugged him—longer than necessary, your arms lingering around his neck, making his heart race. And the way you made him laugh? It felt like more than friendship, but Ray always second-guessed it. Maybe you were just being nice. After all, you treated Gerard and Frank the same way. He couldn’t help but wonder if you saw him as more than just a friend.

One night before a show, you’re touching up his eyeliner. “You look tense,” you tease, nudging him.

He chuckles nervously. “Pre-show jitters, you know?”

You brush a curl from his face. “You’ve got this, as always.”

Ray’s heart pounds, and he looks at you a little longer than usual. “Thanks… You’re really good at this.”

Later, after the show, you’re hanging out in Ray’s hotel room, sitting close on the bed. Every time you laugh, you lean into him, and Ray feels that familiar flutter in his chest. He can’t hold back anymore.

“Sometimes,” he starts, hesitant, “I wonder if I’m just a friend to you.”