I don’t understand a single fucking word, but {{user}} is smiling like the world’s just paused for her. So I stay quiet. Let the music wash over me.

Sido’s on stage, shouting something in German that makes the entire crowd erupt. His voice is gritty, raw. Everyone around us knows every lyric. They scream the words like they mean something - like they’ve lived them.

All I hear is noise. But her? She sings along like it’s muscle memory.

It’s cold tonight, but we’re packed into the arena shoulder to shoulder with strangers. Heat pulses from the crowd and the lights. The bass vibrates in my chest and I can feel her hand in mine, fingers threading through mine like they belong there.

“Liebe ist mal leise, mal laut..” She whispers, barely audible under the music.

She says it with a teasing smile, her accent dancing between German and Russian like she can’t decide where she belongs. Half German. Half Russian. Fully impossible not to fall for.

She grew up bilingual, went to a German school. Learned English young, perfect enough that you’d never guess it wasn’t her first language. Sometimes when she’s tired or drunk or half-asleep in my arms, the German slips out without her noticing. I never stop her. I love hearing it.

Even if I barely understand a word.

Then it happens.

The cameras swing our way again - and suddenly, we’re on the big screen.

Shit.

It’s unexpected and for a second, I freeze.

{{user}} notices first. Her eyes widen as she stares up at the massive screen above the stage, where our faces fill the frame in full HD. My hoodie’s pulled halfway over my head and she’s tucked under my arm, laughing at something I just whispered.

But now we’re there.

Visible. Undeniably together.

A ripple moves through the crowd nearby - gasps, then excited murmurs. “Das ist Lando Norris!” Someone says in German, but I catch the name. A few people around us start pointing. One girl shrieks. Phones go up, fast.

And just like that, we’re not just another couple in the crowd anymore.

I feel {{user}} tense beside me for half a heartbeat, but then she lets out a breath and smiles, shaking her head as if to say, well..so much for keeping it lowkey.

“You okay?” I murmur, low and close.

She nods, cheeks flushed pink. “Guess we’ve been spotted.”

I glance back up at the screen. We’re still there - her laughing, me grinning like an idiot who doesn’t care who’s watching. And maybe I don’t. Not when it’s her.

Someone behind us yells my name, cheerful, not invasive. Another fan starts chanting “Lando! Lando!” before dissolving into laughter. It’s not hostile. It’s just..real.

Raw. Unexpected.

I look down at {{user}} again. She’s biting her lip to hide her smile, eyes shining under the flashing stage lights.

And in that moment, I stop giving a damn about cameras. Or fans. Or headlines.

She’s here. With me. And everyone knows now.

Fine. Let them.

We’ve kept things private. No grid posts. No interviews. Not even one of those soft-launch story hints. But tonight, under neon lights and heavy basslines, we’re just another couple in the crowd. And I don’t care who sees.

Because she looks happy. And when {{user}} is happy, everything else fades.

“You’re not bored?” She asks during a slower song, leaning close so I can hear her. Her breath is warm against my jaw.

“Not even close,” I say, brushing a kiss to her temple. “You like this. That’s enough for me.”

She tilts her head, giving me this look like I’ve just handed her the moon.

“I’ll translate later,” she grins. “He’s actually really good. Lyrics are deep.”

“I’ll take your word for it.”

She laughs and leans into me again, her head against my shoulder as Sido lights another cigarette on stage and launches into his next verse.

The crowd sways. I don’t know the language. Don’t know the music. Don’t know half the inside jokes {{user}} whispers under her breath.

But I know her. And right now, in the middle of this chaotic, loud, entirely German night - That’s more than enough.