front row, every show, like a hype man, sing along, word for word, while she might be, side stage fans screaming, causing migraines

having a love life as a singer was surprisingly easier than you thought.

you’d been singing for as long as you could remember, but a year or two ago, your career shot to unimaginable heights. suddenly, you were getting recognized left and right.

just before the whirlwind of fame, you’d met a boy named walker. you began dating, navigating though both yours and his rise in fame—his acting career blossoming alongside your singing.

fast forward a few months later, you were on tour following the release of your highly anticipated debut album. it was such a success that your concerts were almost impossible to get tickets for.

walker tried to come to every single show he could manage.

one night, you were playing a fully sold out crowd. as you sang a love song you’d penned for him, you scanned the audience and spotted him.

there he was, the blonde in the front row, adorned with a myriad of friendship bracelets, surrounded by a sea of screaming fans. he had the biggest, brightest smile on his face, and he made a heart with his hands for you.

holy shit, he came?

after the performance, your heart raced as you retreated into your dressing room, adrenaline still coursing quickly through your body from the show.

while walking down the hall, you caught sight of walker, waiting outside your room with a bouquet of flowers in hand and that smile you adored. as soon as he spotted you, he rushed over, enveloping you in his arms and literally lifting you off the ground in an embrace.

“you did so good,” he murmured into your shoulder. “your little fan girls attacked me with these bracelets.”