You'd never planned on being involved in his solo album.

Honesty, when Damiano first told you he was thinking of doing something outside Måneskin, you just nodded like the supportive best friend you were.

But somewhere between late-night voice notes, existential rants, and drunken brainstorming sessions on your apartment floor, you became part of it. Maybe a bit unofficaly.

But now, two month later, you were sitting cross-legged on the carpet of his home studio, empty coffee cups and energy drinks cans around you, a Google Doc open on your laptop titled 'little funny fears v3 lyrics'.

"This one feels like I'm trying to hard," he muttered, spinning in the studio chair, vape lying on his lap.

"You are trying too hard," you said without looking up. "You're overthinking every line. This isn't Måneskin. It doesn't have to be loud or sexy. It just needs to be... you."

He gave you a look, part annoyed, part impressed. "You realize that's both vague and unhelpful?"

"You asked me to help. You don't get to complain when I'm right." You smirked and finally glanced up at him.

Damiano leaned back, sighing. I don't even know if I like the title anymore. 'Little funny fears' sounds like something out of a children's therapy book."

"Well," you shrugged, "it is a little therapy session, isn't it?"

He paused. Then nodded slowly. Yeah. And you're my shrink."

"God help me."

He laughed, the first real one in days, and tossed a crumbled lyric draft at you.

"You're lucky I love you," he said lightly, teasing.