Heart's Song (Private)

( @Star_Girls_puppers_was_attacked )

Dylan was waving to the crowd, keeping up a bright smile. Though it was fake. Looking over the crowd of mostly girls, screaming his name. How he hated it so much. Every day he heard them say they wanted to be with him. But he could see through the glass. They just wanted to be recognized. So he kept away from them most of the time.
As he retracted from the stage, his smile dropped along with his posture. "Alright Dylan, you've got three minutes until you have to go and sign autographs and CD's. Don't forget pictures." His manager hummed, texting instead of looking up him. "Go find Joey, and he'll get you fixed up. We don't want you all disgusting for pictures." She hummed lowly before turning on her heel to work on something else.
With a heavy sigh, Dylan kept his mouth shut while he briskly made his way down the path to go find someone to 'fix him up'. He never had a few seconds to himself, even now. His sister came up next to him with a water bottle, and followed along.
"That was an awesome show. You did great, just like always." Payton told him softly, handing over the already cracked open bottle. Taking it with another sigh, he gave her a weak smile before chugging down the water.
"Thanks Pay. Glad you enjoyed it." Dylan mumbled before ducking in to his dressing room. "Now, why don't you go wait in the limo? Dad is probably already out there. I'm going to be here for at least another hour." He told her, before shutting the door so she couldn't protest.

As soon as Joey had done his work, and fixed him up, a fresh spritz of cologne was on him. He hated the smell of it, but it was his brand. So of course he had to wear it. 'Spritzpatrick… they couldn't have come up with anything more original?' Dylan asked himself, as he was escorted out to go see the fans. His head was throbbing, and he just wanted peace and quiet. But his manager wouldn't let him have it.
With a heavy sigh, and his throat killing him, he forced up a smile as he made his way out to the fans. "Hey guys!" He shouted, as he made his way to his usual spot to sign autographs. It killed him a little bit, as the sound of screaming increased. "Alright, who's first?"

After a dozen photos, and autographs, Phoenix was done. He just wanted to curl up and fall asleep. Though it seemed he wasn't the only one who didn't want to be here. He caught sigh of a green and blue eyes girl, with multicolored hair. She seemed like an interesting character for this crowd. All the other girls had bright colored hair, and bright eyes. If he was being honest, they were fairly attractive. Though all of them seemed to be with someone.
For the girl he caught sight of, seemed to be alone. No one was with her, as the others around her seemed incredibly excited. I mean, this was Dylan Fitzpatrick. Why wouldn't they be?

His focus was caught on her, as he slowly started to get up. He didn't even notice his feet were moving until he started to hear his manager calling after him. But he ignored the voice, and started pushing around the fans as he began to follow after her. It was odd. He never followed after people. He never liked anyone, besides his close family. Why was he so drawn to this girl?
"Miss!" Dylan called out, still not sure what he was doing. It didn't add up. But she seemed so strange. Not in a bad way, just strange. "Wait, come back." He pleaded with her.

Dylan wasn't sure what to say, he just kind of stood there, starring at her. He was looking for words, but realized how bad his throat hurt whenever he wanted to say something. "I-… hey." He greeted casually, hearing footsteps approaching behind him. It was probably his manager, and security guard trying to come find him. He did just kind of walk off without warning.
"I-I'm sorry… I don't know why I followed you. You're just… you're just so different from them. It took me by surprise…" Dylan mumbled, crossing his arms over his chest.

"Wait- no. I had a reason." Dylan insisted, following after her. "Everything you said was true, but I had an actual reason for following after you." He continued to insist, picking up his pace just a little bit. "You're just- really pretty. And… I guess I wanted to tell you that."
He knew it was dumb, but that's what he was thinking right now. He didn't want her to leave right now. He was just drawn to her. Of course this surprised him, but he didn't question it.

"I- But I agree with myself." Dylan offered hopelessly, stopping in his tracks. He was giving up on following her. "And I think you're really pretty. Honestly, it's probably stupid. I should let you go." He mumbled, glancing back to see an angry manager in the doorway.
"But first… do you want an autograph? You don't have to take it, you can sell it for all I care. I just… I feel awkward for following you for no reason." Dylan offered, pulling the pen from behind his ear.

"I know… I just- needed a break for a second." Dylan sighed softly, not minding the little gesture. Though it seemed his body guards weren't really okay with it. Yet they didn't move. "I still want to give you an autograph, if you'll take it." He insisted, pulling a notebook from his back pocket to sign one for her. "If you'll take it, may I ask your name?"

Dylan smiled lightly, writing Crimson out. "Can I just call you Crimson? Or do you prefer your whole name?" He asked softly, glancing up at her from his neat writing on the page. "I don't mind either way."
His black pen left a light mark, as he gently ran it over the page. He was waiting for her reply, and started doodling a simple flower in the corner.

Nodding, he quickly wrote down a short message, followed by his name. Yet he hesitated to rip it our. Before he did, he added one more thing at the bottom of the page. "Well, thanks for giving me a minute or two of peace, Crimson." He hummed, folding the paper over and handing it to her.
"You're a super cool chick, from the thirty seconds I got to know you." Dylan hummed, waving as he started to pull away. He did have waiting fans.

In the paper, it was a simple note. ’Crimson, hey! I apologize for following after you, I just really found you interesting. Hope to see you again! -Dylan.’ Yet down at the bottom of the page, we’re digits for a phone number. No other context, besides that.

’Why oh why did I do that?’ Dylan asked himself, numbly signing pictures and smiling for them as well. ’She probably thinks I’m a creep… she didn’t even know me! What was I thinking?!’

After another hour or so, Dylan was finally free. He quickly climbed in the back seat of his limo, groaning as soon as the door was shut. “I so want to go to sleep.” He whined, resting his head on Payton’s shoulder. “Oh come on, it can’t be that bad. Besides, as soon as we get back you need to. You’ve got an interview in the morning, with Kathy Gorce.” Payton told him softly, resting her own head on his.

“Why did I agree to that? I’ve known about this concert for months.” Dylan mumbled, lifting his head up to give her a weak smile. “Well, clearly I need sleep. I have some stranger my phone number tonight. That’s probably not going to end well.” He mumbled, resting his face in the crook of her neck.

Feeling his phone buzz in his pocket, he slid it out as he sat up. “Probably my manager coming to nag me again.” He mumbled, reading over the message in silence. “Or- not.” Dylan mumbled typing up a reply. ’I honestly didn’t think you’d text me.’