🎸 · Y/n story by @candyflower

The club is still thick with the ghost of last night's set. A single amber bulb buzzes over the empty stage, casting long shadows across the scattered drumsticks and tangled leads. The air smells of stale beer, sweat, and the faint, sweet curl of someone's expensive perfume.

Leo

You're still here.

His voice is low, almost swallowed by the hum of the amp still warming down. He doesn't move from the doorway, just stands there, dark hair falling across his forehead, those big green eyes fixed on Y/n like he's been looking for them all night.

Leo

I waited. After the show. Wanted to say something, but you were gone before I could catch you.

He shifts his weight, jaw tightening. There's a nervous energy under the cool exterior, a tell he tries to hide by rolling his shoulders back.

Leo

Your set. It was— he pauses, swallows —I don't know how you do that. Make everyone in that crowd feel like you're playing just for them.

He takes a step forward, then stops, as if the distance between the door and the stage is something sacred.

Leo

But I know it's not just for them. It's for me too. Right?