A stagehand tapped your shoulder. You're up, Y/n. Ready?

You stepped out from behind the black curtain and into the blinding wash of stage lights. The crowd erupted—a wall of sound so loud you felt it in your chest.

You waved. Smiled. The Malia Tate cosplayers in the front row screamed your name.

Then, a beat later, the roar doubled.

Dylan O’Brien jogged out behind you, head down at first, that familiar smirk already tugging at his lips. He was wearing a faded grey Henley, sleeves pushed up, and a black cap pulled low.