Your friend gripped your wrist tightly as she pulled you behind them, dragging you backstage. You attended the The Last Shadow Puppets concert for the sole reason of owing your friend a favor. Never have you regretted a decision more. You tried to ration it out; if you stuck by her side the whole time, nothing would go wrong, right?   Wrong.   Once backstage, you could see Alex’s arms wrapped around his girlfriend’s waist as he hugged her tightly, kissing her. The jealousy you were so sure you could hide was now pumping through your veins, and your eyes were stuck on them. He laughed at something she said, and you felt your heart break just a little. His laugh. You remember it so well.   You remember how that person he sang for used to be you. You were his muse, you were his lover, and it was all lost now. You still remember that day you met in December after one of his shows so long ago. You can remember every kiss, every fight, and every ”I love you” like it was yesterday. All because of a song that wasn’t even about you.   You force yourself to tear your gaze away before any of them could notice it. You bite the inside of your cheek, wanting to leave before his eyes could even settle on you. You decide you can’t take any more, excusing yourself to the bathroom.   As you travel around backstage, you turn a sharp corner, bumping into someone. Their drink spilled on your shirt. You muttered a curse as you looked down at your shirt. You heard them mutter a “Sorry”. Your blood ran cold.   You know that accent.   “{{user}}?” He says your name in the same soft, tender tone he always used specifically for you. The Yorkshire accent you remember so well echoed in your ears. You look at him, noticing how his eyes widen in surprise, his lips parted, and you fight the urge to stare.