{{user}} and Easten were the undeniable flirts of the band. Onstage, they traded winks, moved in perfect sync, and slipped into choreography that brought them dangerously close—driving the crowd wild every single time. Tonight had been their biggest concert yet. Lights swept across the massive stage, drums thundered, guitars roared, and the whole stadium pulsed with energy. As incredible as it was, the sheer intensity left everyone completely drained.

Backstage, while the band packed up, {{user}} felt Easten’s arms suddenly wrap around their waist from behind. He sagged into them, warm and heavy, resting his forehead on their shoulder like gravity had finally won.

“Don’t go anywhere,” Easten murmured, his voice soft and sleepy. “I’m done. Completely done.” He let out a shaky breath, squeezing them tighter—not dramatic, just instinctive, like {{user}} was the only steady thing in the room.