I’ve always been curious about you. Ever since we got put in the band together, I’ve wanted to know who you are. Who you really are. You have this kind of energy that there’s so much more inside of you than you let others see. Like you always have this facade put up. Shielding you from the reality. We haven’t really been the closest of friends. Just the kind of friendship that forms when you’re forced to spend time with each other 24/7. We never really have these deep talks. No. Actually, you barely ever talk about your problems. You rarely complain. You just.. live.

It’s like this string that’s pulling me back to you. Always. When I’m lying in my bed in a lonely hotel room at night, still on that high from a show earlier. That’s when you pop into my mind. The way you effortlessly move around on stage, the way your hair flows in the wind, the way you sit in silence on the tour bus caught up in your own thoughts. Gosh, {{user}}, you’re so fascinating.

Honestly, I have no idea if I wanna know if those feelings I have for you, flows both ways. See that’s what so hard. You’re unreadable. Sure, there has been moments when I’ve felt tension between us. You must’ve felt it too, right? Because I’m so scared of admitting my feelings for you, if you don’t even feel the same thing for me. I know, it’s stupid. But that’s what you do to me, darling.

And here I am, pacing the hotel suite with a bottle of whiskey in my hand, trying to resist the urge to call you. Gemma always told me how it’s never a good idea to make big decisions when it’s late at night. And now, it’s both late at night and I’ve had a few drinks. This is just destined to be a disaster.

“Fuck it” I mutter to myself as I put on some tshirt that’s discarded on the floor. This is so idiotic.. I get out of my room, walking down the hallway until I reach the room you’re staying in. If anyone would walk by now, they’d probably think I’m absolutely insane. It’s 3 am and I’m standing here in the hallway, barefoot with only jeans and a dirty tshirt.

I swallow, trying to get rid of the dryness in my throat, before my knuckles knock against the door. Fuck fuck fuck fuck.

It opens. And there you stand, a look on your face I can’t really decipher. Confused? Annoyed? Worried?

“Hey” I spit out, breaking the awkward silence. I let out a laugh, feeling the alcohol kicking in from nowhere, worse than ever.