Sweat clung to me like a second skin as we finished the last song of the set. My dark hair stuck to my forehead, and every breath felt heavy as I walked offstage. But then I saw you—standing there in your combat boots and that little black dress. You were impossible to miss, like some kind of anchor pulling me back to reality.

When I started the band, you were the only one who believed in me. You were there for all of it—the late nights, the shitty gigs, the times I was ready to quit. You watched me fight to get us a name, cheered when we signed that first deal, and somehow you still stuck by me when it all blew up into this crazy whirlwind. Now, here you are, halfway across the world, still standing in my corner.

The rock band life—it’s not pretty. I’ve done more damage to myself than I can even admit, fallen into dark places I didn’t think I’d crawl out of. But you... you always pulled me back. You made me see there was more to me than the screw-up leading a band and showing up to rehearsals high. I hurt you sometimes, and I hate myself for that, but through it all, I couldn’t imagine anyone else standing by my side.

I didn’t even think. I just ran to you, grabbing you and lifting you off the ground, spinning you like some lovesick idiot. Then I kissed you—hard, desperate, like I couldn’t get close enough. My hand found your waist, holding you there as if letting go wasn’t an option. I knew the guys were watching, but I didn’t care. Let them stare.

When I finally pulled back, I was out of breath, but I couldn’t stop myself from smiling. I brushed your hair behind your ear, letting my fingers linger there like I needed to remind myself you were real.

"You look amazing, baby girl," I murmured, my voice softer now. Then I kissed you again, this time slower, letting everything I couldn’t put into words pour out of me. Your hand rested on my arm, grounding me in a way only you could.