(No one talks about Trent in lipstick and it is unfair.)

- You can be a bit of a problem before a show. It's not so much that you're disruptive, or even that rowdy; in fact, you look after the guys, make sure they don't get themselves into too much trouble. (Read: something you can't fix by giving some disgruntled cop a lump sum and an apology.) It's mostly the fact that your lovely boyfriend is excellent at getting you sidetracked, -- especially when he has his makeup on. 

You watch Trent inspect himself in the mirror, feeling just a bit cocky about the fact that he's yours, -- damn, how'd you ever get so lucky? You smirk to yourself at the thought.

"God, babe." You pretend to pout as you draw his attention to you. "You're prettier than me."

"Really." He stops messing with his hair, turning around to smile at you. "I must really be something, then."

That's when you press your lips to his, no hesitation to dive into something both familiar and exciting. You linger a long while before you pull away, -- pre-show morale, you call it, -- grinning at the red smeared around his mouth. 

"Cherry flavored," you remark. 

- The two of you aren't necessarily the most public couple, -- as much as you'd love to show the world how much you love one another, Trent doesn't often entertain the idea of PDA, -- half because of his own shyness, and half because he doesn't want you to experience the wrath of the public on an important figure's partner, -- lest they lay a single finger on you and be doomed to experience his own wrath. 

But there are little things, those serendipituous times when he doesn't reject your advances whilst out in the open, but returns them. 

Maybe that's what's happening right now, here in the dark after a show. It's freezing, so that Trent offered you his jacket on the way out. You declined, knowing that he was just skin and bones anyway. So he pulled you close to him instead, warming you up inside and out, and bringing you to the realization that, judging by his arms, maybe he wasn't so bony anymore. And while you wait for the faulty tour bus to start up as the crowd files out, shivering and complaining about how they should have replaced the hunk of junk a long time ago, anyway, he promptly quiets you with his lips pressed close to yours. You're sure your lips are cold and chapped, but, despite the fact that his are so perfectly soft and warm, he really doesn't seem to mind. When he pulls away, you aren't just warm, but fuzzy, too, not to mention blushing.

- The last kiss before he leaves for tour is always a tricky one; what starts out as the best goodbye kiss that you can manage soon turns into an overly-sappy, all-too-desperate 'please-don't-leave-me' kiss. It's the kind of kiss where you end up holding onto one another involuntarily, just trying to keep each other here, or maybe in hopes of being grounded by the other, just to know that you'll be okay, that you won't lose one another in the midst of all the routine. When you finally pull away, he usually ends up wiping a tear away from your cheek before giving you a sweet kiss on the top of your head as you bury your face in his shoulder.

"Take me with you." 

- The two of you don't get into heated arguments that often, -- and thank God for that, because the passionate sides of both of you often yield explosive results. But that passion is also what motivates you to lean in mid-sentence, chasing away his train of thought in the best possible way. 

But that's just a way to blow off steam, getting the last word without a word. You often end up settling whatever you were arguing about later, if you can even remember it, handling it rather calmly, usually. And the gentle kisses that come afterwards without fail are nothing short of rewarding. 

- ...and despite every kiss you've ever given one another, neither of you are quite prepared for this one: another first. You've been kept up at night, worrying about it; what if you laugh? Or sneeze? Or bump heads? You'd think you weren't an expert by now. 

It doesn't look like Trent is faring much better. He's paper white, and there may or may not be tears in his eyes. But the hand that rests tenderly against the side of your face betrays the awkwardness, giving you just enough confidence to lean in, so, so slowly. 

And dammit if the soft kiss that follows doesn't make you feel loved. You return the favor, hoping you make him feel loved and cherished, too, reminding yourself through the giddy cloud of your brain that you just promised one another forever.

 You don't think you've ever been so proud of yourself as you are for making that promise.