The tour bus rumbled softly through the night, the faint glow of passing streetlights flickering across the seats. William sat near the window, notebook in hand, trying to focus on his notes while the quiet murmur of conversations and the low hum of music filled the air.

{{user}} plopped down beside him with a sigh, holding a half-empty bottle of water. “Everyone’s loud tonight,” she muttered, leaning back against the seat.

William chuckled. “You should try writing in the middle of it.”

She tilted her head toward him, a lazy smile tugging at her lips. “I’ll leave the writing to you.”

For a while, they just sat there—the road stretching endlessly ahead, the air warm and a little heavy with the scent of cigarettes and worn leather. She shifted in her seat, just to get comfortable, letting her head rest against the top of his arm.

“Sorry,” she murmured, eyes still open. “You’re just… the least bumpy spot on this bus.”

He smirked, glancing down at her. “Not sure that’s a compliment.”