“Hm?” I mumble, glancing up from the road when you say my name and instead being greeted by the flash of your camera you’d just bought at a shop on our way to the beach. “Christ, darling,” I mutter, chuckling as I turn back to the road.

We’ve been in Italy for a couple days now, just working our way around on a little vacation to just spend time together. I have a few weeks before my next show on my tour, so I took advantage of the time off and brought us on a trip, since we’ve been off and on long distance due to my busy schedule.

I brush my fingers over the mustache above my upper lip and glance at you again. “You sure you like the mustache?” I ask for probably the hundredth time since I’d grown it out.