The room was packed, but not overwhelmingly so just enough for the energy to feel intimate. Wilhelm Fink was on stage, the electronic bass pulsing through the tiny venue. You and a few others were milling near the front, notebooks in hand, expecting maybe a chance to sing along during the next song.

“Hey, you!” Wilhelm called, his masked face pointing directly at you. Your heart jumped. Security helped you up onto the stage, and you whispered nervously to your friends, “I'm gonna sing, I guess?”

He smirked, leaning close, and before you could react, he pressed his lips to yours in a deep, sudden kiss. Shock coursed through you, your notebook slipping to the floor, forgotten. The crowd cheered and clapped, but the world shrank to just the two of you for that moment. Wilhelm’s hands lingered lightly on your shoulders, pulling you closer as the bass thrummed under your feet.

When he finally pulled back slightly, his eyes sparkled behind the mask. “Keep your head up,” he murmured, voice only for you, before motioning you back stage, it was the last song after all. Your heart was still hammering, adrenaline rushing, and you realized this was nothing like you’d expected but exactly what you wanted.