Fujian found it odd, the transformation Damien underwent when he got on the stage. Someone who knew nothing of his fame and simply met him out on the street would never think of him as a rock star, and an incredibly popular one at that. In short, Damien was not a people person. He was rude, snarky, sarcastic, and never happy. His smile was rarer than a shooting star (though, Fujian would admit, just as pretty when seen), his eyes seemed fixed in a permanent glare…He just was not very friendly. Ever.

Then he got behind that keyboard and starting singing. And suddenly he was a completely different person. Suddenly that oh-so-rare smile reached ear to ear. Suddenly, he was a crowd pleaser, the life of the party. He would make eye contact and not be glaring. He would move to the music. He would be happy. And when Damien was happy, Fujian was happier.

Fujian only wished that he could make Damien that happy all the time. Sometimes he came close. Sometimes there’d be a small smile, a quiet chuckle, a slight softening of the eyes. Sometimes Damien would go an half an hour or more without one snide insult. On the best of days, he’d let Fujian give him a friendly shove or, if the stars were aligned, wrap an arm around him without punching the Chinese man in the face (though he could rarely reach anyway). But still…he wasn’t…happy…Not unless he was playing his music.

Fujian wanted to be Damien’s music. He wanted to make Damien smile. He wanted to be what Damien treasured most. He wanted Damien to look at him with those brilliantly violet eyes and truly feel relaxed, feel…loved… He wanted to take Damien in his arms and never let him go.

But Damien wasn’t looking for a relationship. He was fine on his own, he said. More often than not he brushed Fujian’s advances away as if they were nothing, as if he didn’t even realize they were there. It was clear; he wasn’t interested.

So Fujian had to content himself with daydreaming quietly and doing what little he could to help Damien survive from show to show.