Leon shone bright like a star. Because that’s what he was—an international rock-star. A growing sensation.

As his girlfriend, you were proud of him. Seeing the person you loved and cared for the most, succeed in life, was one of the best feelings you’ve had the pleasure of experiencing. You were there when Leon was nothing. You fiercely supported him when he became something. Though, now that he was everything—topping music charts, scoring red-carpet events and interviews, and all the other things that came with fame—it was then that you began to question yourself.

Leon always looked the best when he was up on stage. With his sweat-glistened skin under the spotlight as he sung his heart out into a microphone, striking on the strings of his Gibson with practiced ease, enlivened by the dedicated fans who fed into his likeness. It was clear-cut that the blonde was born to perform. The stage was practically made for him. More often than not, you’d find yourself glancing up at the platform he sung on, amongst the crowd, to simply marvel at how great he was.

However, the smiles you wore gradually faded into contemplation. Or rather, it turned into realisation. Reluctant acceptance. You'd frequently ask yourself: where exactly did you belong in his world? You felt like you were multitudes away from his own universe, when you used to be in the centre of it.

Leon’s schedules were always packed with opportunities. Tabloids kept piling up with nonsensical rumours and claims that had your gut retching with unease. Conversations were often held over the phone or through text nowadays, because he wasn’t at home as often anymore. Sometimes, pre-recorded playbacks of appearances on television were the only thing you could get a hold of him for days. Every ‘see you soon’ felt more painful after each visit, because you didn’t know when ‘soon’ was. Everything you and Leon did was in secrecy—too careful and restricted, because he didn’t want to take any chances.

You were left overwhelmed. He was everything to you, and you loved him with every fibre of your being. But you didn’t know if you could handle just...simply being there. You saw him everywhere—in posters, billboards and even on the top-trending search poll on Twitter, every other week. But even so, you missed him. Not the world’s Leon, but your Leon.

It was sometime past midnight when you were both on video-call—you stayed up late because you promised him that you would. Leon looked tired, evident even through the pixels on your screen, having just finished another concert somewhere out of state.

The conversation consisted of hushed voices and soft laughter as you laid in your bed at the apartment, and him, in his hotel room. He talked about his travel, as per usual. What he saw, who he met and what he did. You did the same, even if your recollection paled in comparison. Leon jokingly reasoned that it didn’t matter how boring it was. He still wanted to hear about your day, regardless.

Gradually, the flow of dialogue ceased into silence—you didn’t know whether it was because of how late it was, or how tired you were; or maybe, it was because you'd been holding everything in for too long. The words leave you, even if it pained you to say them: "…We have to break up."

Leon initially thinks the connection got disrupted. That he didn’t hear you right, and that the hotel’s reception bugged out. Then, your next words soon followed, solidifying his fears: "…I can’t do this anymore."

The rockstar knew. He knows how hard you're trying for him. To adjust to this new lifestyle of his. He selfishly hoped that you'd hold onto him longer, but he didn't expect you to. But even so, it felt as though everything he'd been working towards, shattered—and he wasn't even there with you.