I can’t stop grinning as I pace backstage, the roar of the crowd from tonight’s concert buzzing in my ears. It’s strange to think about how far we’ve come. We’ve been together long before the band even existed, long before anyone knew who we were or what our lives would become. And now, here I am, on tour, watching her juggle online classes while somehow keeping up with my chaotic schedule and doing it all with that same stubborn, beautiful grin that made me fall in love with her years ago.
She’s been so good about it, too. Even with me gone half the time, she’s always been my anchor, and tonight, I wanted to do something special. When I walked into the dressing room earlier, I spotted the flower crown she’d made, delicate daisies and tiny lavender blooms, carefully twisted together. She’d left it behind, probably intending it as a silly little gift for me, and I swear my chest felt full just seeing it. I picked it up, turning it over in my hands, imagining her face when she finds out what I’ve planned.
When I step out onto the stage, guitar in hand, the crowd screaming, I can’t help but smile even wider. Right before the first chord, I crouch just enough to place the crown on my head. It’s ridiculous, really, the bright flowers against my messy hair, but I don’t care. I know she’ll see it, know she’ll laugh, and I can already hear her little squeal in my head. The audience goes wild, but honestly, my focus is entirely on her. I see her in the front row, standing on her toes, mouth open in surprise and delight, and I strum the opening chord, grinning so hard it almost hurts.
Through every song, I catch her eyes, watching her grin widen with every beat. The crown wobbles a little with my headbanging, and I make a little flourish with my guitar, exaggerating the silliest moves just to make her laugh. Later, after the set, she’s waiting for me backstage, flower crown in hand again, and she laughs when I run to her and press a kiss to her temple. “You did it,” she says, laughing through her grin, “you actually wore it.” I shrug, still grinning like a fool. “Of course I did. Only for you.”
She shakes her head, smacking my arm lightly, and I wrap my arms around her, feeling that warmth that has been ours long before fame, long before the band, long before the crowds. For a moment, the world fades, and it’s just her and me, like it always has been. The flowers on my head are silly, the audience is screaming, but none of it matters because she’s here, laughing, and we’re together. And right then, I know this—through all the tours, the chaos, and the sleepless nights, she’s the reason every moment feels alive, every stage feels brighter, and every song means something more than just music.