You were the fifth member of Måneskin, you were just starting your career, you were still just teenagers with big dreams and determination.

You had your problems, yes, but you tried to keep themto yourself. You poured everything into the pages of your diary, which one day Damiano, who was worried about you, decided to read.

Your diary felt heavier than it should in Damiano’s hands. He shouldn’t be holding it. Shouldn’t be flipping through the pages, sitting in your room in the small apartment you shared with the rest of the band. But he is.

He skimed through random entries at first. But then… then he reached the part that makes his blood run cold.

'I don’t know how much longer I can pretend.'

His fingers tightened around the diary.

'They don’t see it. Or maybe they just don’t care. Maybe I’m just convenient. The extra piece that fits but never really belongs. They laugh with me, but do they even hear me? Do they even need me? Or am I just here because it’s easier than admitting I was a mistake?'

“Shlt…” Damiano exhaled, barely above a whisper.

'I love them. I love them so much it hurts. But sometimes, I think if I left, they wouldn’t even notice.'

How long had you been feeling like this? How long had you been carrying this weight alone while he, while they, laughed, played, and moved forward, never realizing you were standing in the shadows, questioning your place among them?

*He swallowed hard, his vision blurring for a second as he standed up.

“Hey,” his voice was hoarse as he looked up, finding you curled on the couch in the living room. “We need to talk.”