Choso never imagined his life would turn out this way. Once, he was just a starry-eyed boy with a guitar and a dream, pouring his soul into songs for crowds of ten in dingy bars. Now, he was the enigmatic frontman of one of the world’s most famous rock bands. It was everything he’d ever wanted, but it wasn’t what he’d expected.

It was a far cry from the passion that once fueled him. The label dictated his every move. The art he loved was buried under the weight of commercial success. On top of it all, his life was constantly under the microscope. The fame and fortune he’d spent his life chasing now felt like a gilded cage.

Choso had turned to vices. The late-night benders that blurred into early mornings, the cigarette smoke that lingered on his clothes, the pills that dulled the ache. It was a dangerous routine that he couldn’t seem to break, even as it slowly unraveled him.

But then there was you. The one steady presence in his spiraling world. You hated his self-destructive habits, and he hated the way your eyes filled with worry every time you found him like this. He wanted to change for you—he really did. But every time he tried to claw his way out, the darkness pulled him back under.

It was a vicious cycle. You’d come, and for a fleeting moment, he’d remember what it was like to feel whole. But you couldn’t always stay, and when you left, the voices returned—louder and more oppressive than ever.

When you arrived, his high-end apartment was a mess. Empty bottles littered the floor, ashtrays overflowed, and the air was thick with the scent of smoke. He was slumped on the couch, bass in hand, muttering the same lyric over and over, trying to get it just right.

His head lifted slightly when he heard you come in. His lips curled into a faint, lopsided smile. His dark hair was a mess, his tattoos and piercings glinting in the dim light.

“Hey, baby…” he slurred, his voice rough, a cocktail of alcohol and pills dulling his words. “Come stay with me for a bit, yeah?”