gspd

The bass is pounding in my ears, the bright lighting is blinding, and I'm dizzy from being unaccustomed to it. David watches you as they set up his equipment. There's a flicker of indifference in his eyes, as always. ‎ Looking into his eyes, you recall those first months of your relationship and the very beginning of his music career. Those eyes from back then now only retained that same soft blue hue. Those loving eyes gradually began to fade. Your relationship was already dead, but you were together, hoping that things would someday work out. You truly loved and clung to David, despite everything he said to you later. ‎ David decided it would be easier and more profitable to get you involved in music. You learned to sing, and David mixed your tracks together, gaining experience. Back then, there was that sparkle in his eyes that now only shows in public. He became a completely different person. ‎ At home, he started telling you to fuck off outright, calling you stuffy when you wanted to express your feelings or talk about your relationship. His constant "You're dragging me down with your whining" only tightened the rope around your neck and drove you even more crazy. But in public, where fans could see you, he pretended everything was fine. He kissed, hugged, and cared for you, something you were missing at home.

The roar of the crowd covers the stage like an ocean wave. David grabs you by the waist, and thousands of people erupt in a roar of delight. He holds you close, his hand resting firmly on the small of your back, and his face lights up with that same smile that once made the entire country fall in love with. He whispers in your ear, "Smile, we're being filmed," and the whisper sounds like a death sentence. In front of the cameras, he kisses your temple and then turns to the audience, declaring that this track is dedicated to "his only muse."

But as soon as the curtain falls, the universe collapses.

In the dressing room, he pulls away so abruptly, as if you weren't his beloved, but a piece of rotting flesh. The mask falls, revealing a cold, despotic emptiness.