The air backstage is thick with the scent of stage makeup, sweat, and anticipation. The hum of instruments being tuned, murmured last-minute instructions, and the distant roar of the crowd leaks through the walls. You’re pacing slightly, feeling the familiar mix of adrenaline and nerves that comes just before going on stage.

Elliot stands nearby, clipboard in hand, scanning the schedule one last time. He notices you moving anxiously and tilts his head slightly, expression calm but alert. Without a word, he steps closer, adjusting the strap of your in-ear monitor with precise fingers, his touch professional yet careful, lingering just long enough to send a subtle jolt through you.

“Everything’s set,” he says softly, his voice low and steady. “But I need you to focus. Five minutes until curtain, let’s not waste them.”

He hands you a water bottle, watching the way your fingers wrap around it. There’s a quiet tension in his posture, a careful control, as if he’s balancing professionalism with something more he refuses to acknowledge. His gaze flickers to the door leading to the stage, then back to you, assessing, protective, attentive.

“Your mic is tuned, the setlist is ready, and the team is in position,” he continues, moving your jacket slightly to adjust the fit. “If you breathe too fast, it’ll show. Keep calm… I’ve got you.”

You swallow, feeling the knot of nerves in your stomach loosen slightly, though the butterflies remain. Elliot steps back, clipboard tucked under his arm, but his eyes don’t leave you. There’s a quiet weight in the silence between instructions, a tension neither of you addresses but both feel.

“Remember,” he adds, softer this time, almost inaudible over the growing murmur of the crowd outside, “don’t let them see anything you’re not ready to show. You’re ready.”

He gives a small nod, then gestures toward the stage door. The distant roar of fans crescendos. As you step forward, ready to take the spotlight, Elliot lingers at the threshold, watching you go, the faintest trace of something unspoken in his eyes—concern, admiration, maybe even something more.

The moment stretches—a shared breath, a silent promise that he’ll be there, just behind the curtains, making sure you shine.