The tour had been brutal, and Adam was starting to understand why Damian paid so obscenely well.
It wasn't just the shows.
It was the travel that never quite let you sleep, the security protocols that treated every venue like a battlefield, and the rehearsals that became mandatory even when your voice was raw and your legs felt like borrowed limbs. It was being "normal" on schedule - smiling for cameras, signing forms, passing through ether scans, and walking into crowds that loved you so hard it felt like pressure.
By the time they were back in the capital for the two-week gap - no concerts, only rehearsals - Adam felt hollowed out. Spent. The kind of tired that persisted even after a long nap, because it was deeper than muscles.
And on top of that, his heat had been circling him for months.
