Normal Days

"I look ridiculous."

Parker adjusted his baseball cap and oversized sunglasses in my hallway mirror, grinning at his reflection. "You look like a celebrity trying not to be recognized, which is exactly the point."

"I look like I'm about to rob a bank." I tugged at my own disguise—a hoodie pulled low over a wig I'd borrowed from a stylist friend, plus sunglasses that covered half my face. "This is absurd."

"This is necessary." He turned to face me, and even through the ridiculous disguise, his smile was warm. "Unless you want our first real date to be interrupted by fans every five minutes?"

Our first real date. The words still sent a thrill through me, even a week after the concert, even after we'd finally had that long, messy, honest conversation about our feelings.

We'd agreed to keep things private. Not secret—we weren't hiding—but private. Just for us, at least for now. No announcements, no posts, no performing for an audience. Just two people figuring out how to be together without the weight of everyone else's expectations.

"Fine," I conceded. "But if anyone asks, I'm going to say you picked these disguises."

"Deal." He offered his arm. "Ready?"

I looped my arm through his, and we headed out into the late afternoon sun.

The festival was in full swing when we arrived—rows of vendor stalls selling everything from handmade jewelry to vintage records, the air thick with the smell of street food and the sound of live music drifting from a nearby stage. It was chaotic and colorful and absolutely perfect for getting lost in a crowd.

"Where to first?" Parker asked, surveying the scene.

"Food. Obviously."

We wandered through the stalls, sampling tacos and dumplings and some kind of elaborate dessert that was more Instagram-worthy than practical to eat. Parker tried to feed me a bite of his loaded fries, and I laughed as cheese stretched between us like a cartoon.

"Very romantic," I teased.

"Hey, I'm setting the bar low so I can only improve from here."

"Strategic. I like it."

We walked past a vintage video game stall, and Parker's eyes lit up. "Oh man, they have Stellar Knights 2. We talked about playing that on the channel like six months ago."

"We never did get around to it." I felt a pang of something—not quite sadness, but nostalgia. "We haven't posted in months."

"I know." He picked up one of the game cartridges, examining it. "Do you miss it? The channel?"

Did I? I thought about those early days, before the B1 incident, when it was just us playing games and arguing about strategy. Before everything got complicated.

"I miss the simplicity of it," I said honestly. "Just hanging out, no pressure, no performance. But..."

"But?"

"But I don't miss the version of us that was just existing. Does that make sense?" I tried to articulate the feeling. "We were in this comfortable routine, but neither of us was really pushing forward. We were just... there."

Parker set the game down and turned to face me fully. "And now?"

"Now we're both chasing things. You're acting again, really acting. I'm making music that matters to me. We're not just existing anymore—we're living." I smiled. "That feels better, even if it's harder."

"Yeah," he said softly. "Yeah, it does."

We continued walking, hands finding each other naturally as we navigated the crowd. A small bookstore caught my eye, and we ducked inside, escaping the heat and the noise.

"Oh, this is dangerous," Parker said, immediately gravitating toward the sci-fi section. "We could lose hours in here."

I wandered toward the poetry section, running my fingers along the spines. "Remember when we went on that vacation? The one where we just explored the town and didn't worry about posting anything?"

"When we were 'practicing' being a couple?" He came up beside me. "That was nice."

"It was my favorite part of the whole fake dating thing," I admitted. "Just being with you, no cameras, no performance. Just us."

"Kind of like now."

"Exactly like now." I pulled a book from the shelf—something about modern love poetry—and flipped through it. "I've been thinking about that vacation a lot lately."

"Oh yeah?"

"About how I felt then versus how I feel now. And I'm realizing... Parker, I think I've been falling for you a lot longer than I admitted. Even to myself."

He was quiet for a moment, then: "How long?"

"I don't know exactly. Maybe bits and pieces over the years, and then all at once when we started the fake dating." I looked up at him. "What about you? You said you've been in love with me for months, but..."

"But was it longer?" He smiled ruefully. "Probably. Looking back, I think I've had feelings for you since we were kids. I just didn't have the words for it, or the courage to examine it too closely."

My chest felt tight in the best way. "We're kind of idiots, aren't we?"

"Absolutely." He took the book from my hands and set it aside, then pulled me closer. "But we're figuring it out now."

I leaned into him, breathing in his familiar scent mixed with the smell of old books and paper. "I'm glad we're doing this. Taking our time. Not rushing to put labels on everything or make announcements."

"Me too. Though I do think the fans have figured it out by now."

I laughed. "Probably. Rachel says people are still debating whether we're together or not. Half the internet thinks we broke up, half thinks we're secretly married."

"Let them debate." He pressed a kiss to the top of my head. "This is ours. Not theirs."

We bought a few books—he got a sci-fi novel, I got the poetry collection—and continued our wandering. The sun was starting to set, painting the sky in shades of orange and pink, and the festival lights were beginning to twinkle on.

We found a quiet corner away from the main crowds, near a small garden area with benches. Parker bought us both bubble tea from a nearby stand, and we sat down, shoulders touching.

"I've been thinking," I said, poking at my boba with the straw. "About the future."

"Dangerous territory for you. That usually involves spreadsheets."

I nudged him with my elbow. "I'm serious. I've been thinking about what I want to do next, career-wise."

"And?"

"I want to keep making music, obviously. But I've also been thinking about acting again." I watched his expression carefully. "Not seriously, necessarily. But maybe audition for some things. See what happens."

His eyes lit up. "Really?"

"Yeah. I miss it sometimes, and I think I'm finally in a place where I could do it without feeling like I'm backtracking or giving up on music." I took a sip of my tea. "Plus, there's this selfish part of me that thinks it would be fun to work on something together. Like we did when we were kids, but better now."

"You want to be in something with me?"

"Is that weird?"

"No." He smiled, genuine and bright. "No, that sounds amazing, actually. Though you're way more established than me now. You'd probably have to take a smaller role just to be in something I'm in."

"I don't care about that…I care about the work. The experience. Doing things that challenge me and make me grow."

Parker was quiet for a moment, studying me. "You've changed, you know. Since we started all this."

"Good changed or bad changed?"

"Good. Definitely good." He set his tea down and took my hand. "You're more... open now. More willing to just see where things go."

"The old me would've been terrified by that."

"And the new you?"

I considered it. "The new me is excited. Nervous, but excited." I squeezed his hand. "I've spent so much time trying to control everything, trying to make sure I was always moving toward the next goal, the next achievement. But I'm realizing there's more to life than just climbing ladders."

"Like what?"

"Like this. Sitting in a garden at a festival with you, wearing a ridiculous disguise, just being present." I smiled. "Like having time to write music that isn't on a deadline. Like saying yes to opportunities that scare me. Like making space for relationships and experiences and mistakes."

"Mistakes, huh?"

"Well, I'm dating you, aren't I?"

He laughed and pulled me closer. "Hey, I'll have you know I'm a catch."

"You really are," I said, suddenly serious. "And I don't want to take that for granted. I don't want us to be so busy with work that we forget to make time for each other. We did that before, and it was awful."

"Agreed." He pressed his forehead to mine. "We need to be intentional about it. Schedule time together, even if it's just video calls or quick coffee dates between shoots and studio sessions."

"I can work with that. I'm very good at scheduling."

"I know you are."

We sat in comfortable silence for a while, watching other festival-goers pass by, none of them recognizing us in our silly disguises. It felt like being invisible in the best way—just two normal people on a date, no pressure, no performance.

"Hey Cee?" Parker said eventually.

"Yeah?"

"What else is on your list? Of things you want to do in this lifetime?"

I thought about it. "I want to write a full album that's completely mine—production, lyrics, everything. I want to travel more, see places that aren't just tour stops. I want to learn to cook properly instead of just surviving on delivery and instant ramen. I want to try weird art classes and maybe bomb at pottery or painting or whatever." I paused. "I want to keep challenging myself. Keep growing. Keep experiencing new things."

"That sounds like a good list."

"What about you?"

"I want to finish that stupid visual novel I talked to you about.." He smiled. "I want to work with directors I admire. I want to take roles that scare me. And I want to build a life that isn't just about work—a life that has room for hobbies and friends and lazy Sundays and you."

"I like that plan."

"It's not really a plan. More like... intentions."

"Even better."

The sky was fully dark, and the festival lights had transformed the space into something magical.

"We should probably head back," Parker said reluctantly. "Early call tomorrow."

"I know. I have studio time in the morning too."

We stood, gathering our books and empty tea cups, but neither of us moved to leave just yet.

"Hey," I said. "Thank you for this. For suggesting we do something normal and private. For letting this just be ours for a while."

We walked back through the festival, hands intertwined, taking the long way to where we'd parked. Part of me wanted to stay forever in this bubble where we were just two people in love, no complications. But another part of me was excited to get back to real life—to the work we both loved, to the challenges and opportunities waiting for us, to building a life that included both our ambitions and each other.

As we reached the car and started removing our disguises, Parker said, "Same time next week?"

"Definitely. Though maybe we try different disguises. I'm thinking fake mustaches."

"You're ridiculous."

"You love me anyway."

"I really do." He said it simply, like it was the easiest truth in the world, and my heart swelled.