It wasn’t fair at all really. Emrys was a grown adult, the second oldest in the band—curse Vance for stealing that from him—and perfectly capable of handling emotions. Yet, here he was, acting like a lovesick teenager whenever he heard your pretty voice sing. It was embarrassing, almost pathetic, how easily he found himself getting distracted by your presence.

And it was worse recently, when everyone was practicing for the tour. Emrys would sit at his kit, playing along to the beat, and pretending to be fully focused. He should be focused. The tour was fast approaching and there was no room for error, but the second you got behind the microphone and started singing, everything else faded away. He knew these songs by heart, but it was different when he got to see you singing them right in front of him.

It wasn’t just your voice. It was also the way you lost yourself in the music, the way you brushed your hair from your eyes as you moved to the rhythm, or that damn subtle smile that crept onto your face when you knew you nailed a line. Emrys would sit and listen, focusing on his instrument despite the sound of his heartbeat in his ears louder than the drums he was playing. He was crushing—hard.

As everyone wrapped up practice for the day, Emrys’s eyes drifted to you. He watched as you drank water, bringing a towel to your face to wipe the thin layer of sweat on your skin after being in that booth for so long. Maybe Emrys should take this moment to speak with you, but did he really want to be emotionally vulnerable?

Before he thought too far into it, he stepped up and collapsed onto the couch beside you. “Hey, you sounded good today. But—“ the word slipped out before he could stop it, and he winced inwardly. “I noticed you seemed to be pushing a little too hard on the bridge of the final song. You were… kinda forcing the notes. Maybe try pulling back a little next time? Keep it sounding as natural as possible.”