𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐋𝐈𝐌𝐄𝐋𝐈𝐆𝐇𝐓-- (𝕍𝕖𝕝𝕧𝕖𝕥 𝕒𝕟𝕕 𝕍𝕖𝕟𝕖𝕖𝕣 𝕩 ℝ𝕖𝕒𝕕𝕖𝕣)

I

You had always liked ending things off on a high note— literally.

You let the microphone drop from where it was hovering over your mouth, the bright pink diamond shining before it was resting at your side. Panting heavily, you take a bow, letting the screams and cheers from the crowd envelop you. Tonights show had gone good, and that new lighting trick that the backstage crew was mentioning surely added a dramatic flair to your performance.

You wave and blow some kisses to your fans, laughing wildly as you shake out your limbs, adrenaline from the concert still fresh in your veins. You eventually hop off the stage, giving one last smile to the people before you disappear backstage.

Almost immediately, your bright smile drops, replaced by an exhausted frown as you take a waterbottle from a member of the crew, passing them the microphone back in return. You mutter a thank you before tilting your head back and taking a long drink, the cool water having a refreshing taste.

"Great work out there tonight," your manager says, patting you on the back. Offering a weak smile at her, you hum and nod, tossing back the rest of the water to soothe your throat, strained from singing.

Making your way through the crowd backstage was difficult— even behind the curtains, there were people with cameras, people rushing by you on cleanup duty for the stage, even some unwanted fans being tackled by security. It wasn't as bad as the actual crowd itself, but the loudness of it all surely left your ears ringing. But hey, you couldn't expect anything less from Mt. Rageous.

Finally managing to push your way out from the sea of people, your manager hot on your heels, you find the exit and take in the crisp night air. You breathe a sigh a relief, but your peace is short lived as your fans manage to find their way to you again.

You rub your face before you put on your best smile again, your face hurting from how wide you've been grinning for the cameras all night. Turning to the lineup of people that somehow spawned behind you, you blink at the marker that had been shoved into your hands by the closest person.

You get the memo eventually, though, as they excitedly ramble about how much of a fan they are of your music before pointing to their forehead. You smile tiredly at them, signing your autograph on their face— the marker looked permanent, but they didn't seem to mind as they yelled a thank you and rushed off.

You barely have time to recover before another fan is pushing one of your albums towards you with a pen. You press your lips together, before laughing out a sigh, raising the pen.

An impossibly large amount of autographs and photos later, the crowd finally disperses. You glance back at your manager behind you, who looks unbelievably unbothered by the whole situation. She checks her watch, then glances up at you with a look on her face.

"You can never just say no to them, can you?" She teases, walking past you to the sleek black limo, the chauffeur waiting inside.

"Yeah, yeah, I know," you grumble, following her to the car. She opens the door for you and you climb inside, with her following suit right after.

She mumbles a few words to the driver, but really, you couldn't care less. You rest your head on the plush leather seats and yawn, almost nodding off right then and there.

You watch outside the window as the city passes by, the car speeding along the twisted roads of Mt. Rageous. Neon signs and car headlights blur together as exhaustion seeps into your mind, making your legs feel like jelly as you sink down on the seat.

Your manager is typing away on her phone, looking all prim and proper and clean like she always does— and all of a sudden, a shower sounds really, really good right now. You jot that down on your imaginary to-do list for when you get back to the penthouse, and close your eyes.