Touring is loud. Every day blurs into the next—venues, hotels, interviews, the endless buzz of people pulling me in a hundred different directions. But in the middle of all the chaos, there’s her. She’s the one thing that makes all of this feel like home, no matter where we are.

The others are messing about backstage—Louis singing into a hairbrush, Niall strumming a guitar, Liam trying to wrangle us together—but I’m sat in the chair in front of her, legs stretched out, head tilted back so she can reach. The muffled sound of the crowd rumbles through the walls, but I barely hear it when her hands are in my hair.

“Make me look good, yeah?” I murmur, my voice soft, playful, but it’s really just an excuse to hear her laugh.

She does, that gentle sound that always settles something in my chest. Her fingers move carefully through my curls, twisting, tying, brushing against my scalp with a tenderness that makes my eyes flutter shut. God, I could fall asleep like this if I wasn’t about to step out on stage.

The boys tease from across the room, but I don’t care. Not when it’s her. She’s the only person I’d let do this—mess about with my hair, fix me up before the spotlight hits. It’s more than hair, though. It’s a ritual. Something that belongs only to us in a world where I’m asked to give myself to everyone else.

“There,” she whispers after a while, tying off the last bit. I open my eyes and she’s looking at me with that smile—the one that makes me forget the rest of the world exists.

“Perfect,” I breathe, though I’m not talking about the hair. She brushes a stray curl from my forehead, and before I can stop myself, I take her hand in mine and kiss it gently. Just a quick press of my lips, enough to make her blush, enough to ground me before everything speeds up again.

The call comes—five minutes until showtime. The boys gather, energy sparking, but I linger. I always linger. I bend closer, my voice low, just for her. “Stay where I can see you.”

She nods, and I grin, feeling that familiar warmth spread through me.

And when the lights dim, the crowd erupting into screams, I turn back just once before stepping out. The stage lights catch my messy little buns, and I find her instantly, standing right where I knew she’d be. I wink, because no matter how loud the world gets, she’ll always be the quiet moment before the music starts.