the smell of pot and sweat inundated your nostrils, the lights spotting right at your heads did not hurt your eyes anymore, and it made the frizzy hair around your head look faintly like a halo in the huge screens behind your back.

but most importantly; the music swallowed you whole, blocked most of everything else and buzzed your brain, your fingers moved over the strings of your electric guitar almost by themselves, knowing exactly what note to hit at the perfect moment, making it weep in the background for Harvey’s vocals.

your face of just pure focus was a sight for him, god, you hadn’t noticed much, but he’s been staring at you for practically every song, his eyes shimmering with pride, the fans down bellow and afar havocking at every longing glance.

your solo approached, and with the end of Harvey’s prose, yours followed, a nice little—

“hit em’, darling”

instructed you to go ahead through the mic, you saw him approach, as your head bowed down to see your fingers on the strings, and you mouth opened ajar with focus; a familiar arm wrapped around your shoulders.

you looked up at Harvey, he was looking at you as well, like you had been the one to hang the stars up the damn sky, completely serious, so so close—