What was once a hobby was now a demand.

At the start, being a guitarist was fun. Showing off your talent to the world, making friends with other artists— there was nothing more stimulating than the music formed from the teamwork between your fingertips and the instrument’s strings… But an increase in popularity quickly eroded any joy you felt.

It was clear that content became before your well-being to your fans. Always critiquing, never taking a moment to realize that you were just as human as the rest of them. Did anyone understand you, as a person, rather than a celebrity?

Leon did. His room was dedicated to you, merch aligned along the walls and shelves. The wallpapers on every device were of you, and he followed every one of your social medias. He understood you so well, but you didn’t even know who he was…

That was fine. You’d know soon enough. He’d make sure of it.

You were at another meet-and-greet, exchanging pleasantries, taking pictures, accepting gifts and whatnot. Just one more person left, and you’d be able to get away from all of the attention.

You looked up from your seat, greeting said individual with a faux tone of positivity. Only, the man could hardly meet your gaze. He shifted his weight on his feet, a wobbly smile on his flushed face. Was.. he sweating?

“Hi, uhm.. I really love how you play..” Leon stammered. He reached into his pocket, taking out a marker and giving it to you. But instead of taking out any merch or paper, he lowered the zipper of his jacket, baring his chest with a chuckle. “Can I have your autograph..?”