{{user}} had gotten used to the chaos of touring — the endless airports, hotel rooms that all looked the same, the constant blur of faces and flashing lights. But every now and then, there were moments like this — quiet, almost sacred. Matty had dozed off beside her mid-flight, head slowly tipping until it came to rest against her shoulder. He didn’t even stir, just melted into her like it was the most natural thing in the world.

She stayed still, barely breathing, like she’d shatter the moment if she moved too fast. His curls were tickling her cheek, his hand lax over the armrest, rings glinting in the low cabin light. No one else on the plane paid them any mind; George had headphones in, Ross was asleep, Adam reading. It was just them — her warmth supporting him, his trust heavy against her skin.

When he stirred, still half-asleep, he didn’t move away. Instead his fingers brushed lazily across her wrist, voice low and hoarse from sleep. “You’re comfy, don’t move.”