Jei's point of view

"Thank you! Goodnight!"

Stage center's mic was launched into the air before crashing back down in perfect time with the final, heroic downbeat; the "Big Rock Ending" as it was called. I made haste off the stage and practically threw my guitar into Kent's hands. While I was anxious to get to the bathroom and out of these sweaty clothes, I was honestly more excited to hurry over to the merch line and sign some posters, CDs, arms, or whatever else they wanted to throw at me tonight.

Tonight went off without a hitch. The openers were actually solid, the crowd was super involved, and most importantly, we slayed our set. It always feels like a personal victory when we're able to execute our setlist without any issues because these kids came out to see a good show and I always want them to get their money's worth. Granted, Rai, Kev, and Thomas are the gods of stage presence in comparison to myself, but I still want to walk off at the end of the night feeling like I have nothing left to give.

Back in the green room, I flop on one of the couches dramatically and immediately begin stripping as fast as possible, enjoying the air conditioning in my boxer-briefs as the rest of the guys follow suit.

Just as we're getting comfortable, a booming voice breaks the tranquility of the moment. Clark, our balding, middle age manager busts into the green room while trying to shut the door on the backstage pass holders.

"GOOD shit boys! That's what I'm talking about!" he announces, clapping once for emphasis. This man is basically like our coach, and it's moments like these that remind me of that...

"Get yourselves fixed up in two minutes and get upstairs for merch, got it? These kids brought their PARENTS, and Equilibrium is gonna want that parent money!"

We let out a collective groan.

As Clark leaves again, we could hear him calling out "Payday, fellas!" to us.

Rai hobbles over to me, a sweaty mess himself, and flops on the couch about an inch away from my head.

"Ughhh, watch your spray, Shamu! I'm lying in your splash zone."

"Ha! Sorry, Jei; just my way of coming on to you!" Rai replied with a sly grin and a wink.

"Yeah, Rai-bread?" I ask as I reach up to give him a nipple-twister, "Is that so, hun?"

Rai gives me a playful punch in the gut as we both chuckle. We're both fully aware of how the fans like to pair us up in their minds, so it's become one of the band's go-to in-jokes.

Looking over, I couldn't help but notice Kent leaning against the far wall with Cliff, peering in our direction as we were roughhousing. They seemed to be minding their own business, but I thought I caught the two of them peeking over at us before whispering and laughing to themselves.

"What's up? Are our music-dads being dads again?" Rai asked, standing up and walking towards his bag for a clean shirt.

"Looks like it..." I replied.

The word 'dad' just stuck in my head even though I tried to brush it off. Just one syllable off from 'daddy'... so close, yet so far. All I truly wanted in life if I was being honest with myself. I keep many more secrets than just my orientation that are far more damaging than my love of bottoming. I'm single, and like many other singles, I want a boyfriend of my own. Seems simple enough, but... let's just say I have requirements.

I'm a Little, someone who enjoys age regression as a form of self-expression, therapy, comfort, security, you name it. It's a non-sexual thing for me, but damn if moaning "Daddy..." isn't a huge turn-on. For me to consider someone boyfriend-material, there has to be this certain energy to them. They have to give off daddy-vibes; a caring, protective demeanor which guides and protects the Little they adopt.

That's what I see when I look at Kent: strong arms to pick me up with, a grizzly 5 o' clock shadow, a big-and-tall frame to make me feel tinier than I already am, ugh. Perfect. More important than his looks is how he treats me. When he speaks to me, he uses a gentler tone and bends down to meet me at my level. When he does maintenance on my rig, he takes the time to patiently walk me through the changes. When my anxiety starts to act up, he always seems to notice and pull me aside. That's what makes him a certified Daddy in my eyes; he not only cares for me, but takes care of me as well.

There is a huge difference between a boyfriend and a Daddy though, and I could just be misreading things. Both are super caring, but only one would be willing to tend to my... other needs. Saying "goodnight" to your partner is a lot different from being read a bedtime story, and given the specific age range of my Littlespace, probably much more than just that...

If I was to just open up to Kent, and say "Hey, uh, I'm in love with you. But wait there's more; I also pretend to be two years old to help my depression and can you please adopt me?"

I shudder at the thought of laying my feelings out on the table for him, but more-so at the idea of showing him my 'stash'.

All the big bands touring around have massive stacks of amps on stage to add to the 'larger-than-life' image, and Fight The Good Fight is no exception. We all had our "dummy cabs" on the stage that were nothing more than the wooden shells of amplifier cabinets with the speakers taken out, while the real signal was processed backstage in our "isolation cabs". Many groups will stow their personal belongings in these to prevent theft from smaller venues and we did this in the early days before we had a crew or a 'backstage' at all.

This is where I hide my... stuff while on tour. There are some things that are easy to explain that didn't make it in there, like the my pastel pink blankie and snow leopard stuffie in my bunk, as everyone had some memento from home in their area on the bus. Being openly effeminate also helped explain to others why I have an affinity for the softer things in life. The things I did stash in there, however, were much more embarrassing and career-ending in nature.

Among them were a couple of pacis, my sippy, and a pack of diapers just in case I was feeling particularly down. I've been into all this for as long as I can remember, but I wasn't able to start experimenting until I was a teenager. Had it not been for my pacis, I'd probably still be self-harming and not exactly setting the best example for the fans.

The diapers are something I only recently started exploring, as a couple of super-niche companies have started producing them in adult sizes with more child-like designs. It's nice because I can wear and not feel like I'm in the hospital, but on the other hand there is NO mistaking them for what they're for. I have to be super careful with these. Even though I don't do anything past wetting, there's not a super easy way to ditch them or mask the smell in my bunk; and that's not even mentioning the damn crinkling...

It's rare I need these items to help me get into what I call my 'littlespace', but when I do it's because of overwhelming stress, bad depression flaring up, or something of the same ilk. As nice as they are, what I really wish is that I was in a position to enjoy them freely and also have someone to give them to me when I need them... Sadly, that's a bit beyond the scope of our manager's duties... and mental bandwidth.

"Jei? You okay?" Rai asks, interrupting my thoughts.

"Huh..? Oh, yeah, I'm good man." I stutter in response.

"Good, thought I lost you in the void for a second there! Ready to go make some kids' days?"

"You know it!" I reply, slyly, as Rai helps pull my lazy ass off the couch to sign some posters.