(A/N Here he is... our precious starving artist.)

- Years ago, when you were both a pair of teenage nobodies, drunk off of each other's company and the stuff that Chris took from his parents' liquor cabinet, you promised Trent that you would follow him to the ends of the earth if he wanted you to. Whatever it took, you swore to one another that you'd leave your small town and make something of yourselves, and if you could bring just one other person along, it would be each other. You had toasted to that, time and time again, the very first and arguably most important commitment you had ever made to one another. Cheers. 

- After high school is over, you end up following him to Ohio. You enroll in seperate colleges, both of you living on campus. As much as you worry about what he may or may not be doing when you aren't around,  you figure this is what's best. Having a little bit of independence feels good, and the two of you still end up spending every weekend together. 

- It doesn't take long for things to start changing, however. Halfway into sophomore year, it becomes rather clear that Trent isn't happy; you're scared to death that it's you for the longest time, until he tells you outright that he wants to drop out of school. 

- He sort of freaks out when he tells you. "I know it makes me look like a total loser-- Oh God, you don't think I'm a loser, do you?" You do your best to calm him down, assure him that there's very little he could do to make you think he was a loser. He's one of the most driven people you know; college might work out for some, but it's not for everyone. He smiles, happy that you understand. "I'm feeling out of touch with the computers, you know," he says. "It's all the same stuff, really, -- who knows if there'll even be anything new to do with them in ten years?" 

- It's a big adjustment to make, but you help him out the best that you can. He gets a steady job and he and Chris get really into this Exotic Birds thing they've put together. ("Is this what you'll be doing in ten years?" you joke. Not too long after that, they get a feature on local television, -- to talk about what computers are doing to music.)

- The thing you're most proud of is the apartment you set him up with. A friend of yours who had just graduated had been commuting to and from the complex, and, though they weren't the fanciest places in the world, they were affordable and not too far away from you. 

- He's so happy when he finds out that he got the place. The two of you are in your dorm, celebrating with a box of pizza, when he asks you: "is there any way that you can move in with me?"

- He doesn't think that you'll take it seriously, but your face changes, -- you're quite obviously thinking about it. He probably could use the support, and it's not that far away from school, anyway, -- just ten minutes. You promised him you'd always take those risks, and you love him so much, so you respond: "sure."

- Two weeks later, the two of you have your own place. You're way more excited then you should be, spending much of your downtime shopping for little household items, relishing a bit too much in a very cheap version of domestic bliss. It isn't until Trent reminds you that you're a student and a dropout musician on a tight budget that you take a step back, figuring that you can spruce up the place later. 

- Time passes quickly. You continue to work through school, searching for a part-time job to help supply your half of the rent. Things with Exotic Birds start to sour, as do the odd jobs that Trent has started taking up; for once, he wants something consistent. And then he gets approached by a recording studio.

- As exciting as this might sound, it's something relatively mundane: he is now Right Track Studio's full-time assistant engineer slash janitor. Still, it's a well-paying job, and his hard work makes for a pretty paycheck. You wait for him to come home late at night, greeting him with a kiss, asking how his day was. 

- Slowly but surely, the work nights get longer; if you didn't know him so well, you'd be concerned. One night, he comes back with a huge smile on his face. When you ask what's gotten into him, he proudly announces that Right Track's owner is allowing him to record his own demos during the studio's off-times. Absolutely delighted that he can continue doing what he loves, you throw your arms around him, jokingly vowing to give Bart Koster a huge thank you the next time you see him. Then you press your lips to his, helping him out of his jacket with your eyes closed, all the while making it clear that he's the only one you give big thank yous to. 

-Over the next few weeks, things seem to move rather quickly. You're starting to think that this new music might really do something for the two of you. If not, you've secured at least a bit of extra income: you get a desk job at the record store that just opened. Though it's one of those dreaded retail jobs, you like it a lot; living with Trent, you know more about music than the average bear, and the friends you make there just might help you when this demo thing comes to fruition. Every night, you go to sleep looking forward to what's to come. (That is, after you convince Trent to stop writing and come to bed with you.)

- A few weeks later, he brings the demos home. Your boy works quite proficially; the Purest Feeling tape, recorded under his chosen name of Nine Inch Nails, is nine tracks of material that you dare say is pure genius. (Perhaps you're just a little biased.) He brings it to you first, anxiously awaiting your opinion. You give him your heartfelt praise before teasing him about the lyrics to every other track. "Sounds like you're definitely using someone as your muse... hope you aren't selling my part of your soul to the industry early..." 

- You both spend the next few weeks trying to find as many record companies as possible to send the demo to. Your co-workers chime in, you do research through journals full of business jargon that you hardly understand. Once the two of you get home, you order dinner and hunker down, addressing endless packages, piling on top of the table with shipping money laid beside them, half done in your handwriting, the other in his. 

-  It doesn't take you long to receive your first positive response from a label. Then another. And another. And another. Before you know it, the 'yes'es are piling up in front of you, exec after exec just dying to get your boyfriend in the studio with them. And though this has been a dream of his for who-knows-how-long, this is when Trent freezes up. 

- He doesn't know which label to go with, or even if he should be doing this at all. It could all be a shot in the dark, really, he tells you. "Who knows if they'll even like anything I do after this?" he asks, as letter after letter from TVT comes in, piling up where the demos once sat. 

- Because you've never told him anything that you didn't believe, you sit down next to him, squeeze his hand, and tell him, quite firmly, that he's absolutely full of it and he knows it. "You might have just hit the big time, babe," you say. "Whatever happened to taking chances?" Then he gets that look on his face that he gets when he knows you're right. 

- The next week, the two of you are on your way to meet with a Steve Gottlieb about an album tentatively titled Pretty Hate Machine. Sure, everything from here on out is kind of a great unknown, but you're optimistic. And, regardless of what comes of this, you're so, so proud of him. He knows this, but you can never say it enough. 

- Halfway there, you stop by a motel in the middle of nowhere, dining like royalty on the Chinese delivery food that reminds you of home.  Halfway through dinner, you smile, pulling two bottles from your bag. Laughing, you lift your glass to his. Cheers.