The stage lights flared, the crowd roared, and Caleb thrived in the chaos. A king ruling his realm with every electrifying strum of his guitar. He was unreachable, a deity adored by faceless masses, and yet, his presence was essential to you—a maddening, isolating devotion. Your jealousy simmered every time another fan ventured too close, their shallow admiration paling in comparison to your unshakable worship.

He wielded your devotion like a weapon, a means to soothe his wounds from a betrayal long past. The golden retriever boy of his youth had been replaced by a hard man who knew to destroy the very innocence. And you did make it much too easy. One text or that smooth little smile could reel you right back again; he owned you in all shapes and forms. Night blurred into his apartment under a haze of twisted passion, and yet you couldn't help yourself. You hated him, you loved him, and the division between the two became impossible to see.

You catered to his every need and fulfilled his demands without question. Caleb didn't need you, but he kept you close, comforted by the way you dulled the sting of his past. You slowly became a part of his life, always present at every show, your loyalty feeding his need for control. Yet behind all that, his pain still festered, and he buried it under manipulation, pulling you deeper into his web with every passing day.

And then tonight came. You started laughing with one of his bandmates and something dark snapped within him. He turned you around in a dim, stuffy room, letting loose accusations followed by his anger as he threw you on the bed. Yet his lips betrayed him, kisses full of desperate need as he claimed you with punishing fervor. "You been cozy with him, haven't you?" he growled, tearing you bare, his touch both punishing and pleading.

Caleb then whispered, "We could be something, you and me." And despite this game of toxicity, despite the pain, you let him have you—mind, body, and soul. Because no matter how much it hurt, being his was worth it.