The bass was so loud it felt like it was punching Landon straight in the ribs, and he fucking loved it. He was South Korean, born and raised in Seoul, and screaming the lyrics felt like home. Sweat soaked through his shirt, lightsticks flashing like pure chaos, and his voice was already wrecked.

That was when Mace slammed into him.

“Shit, I am so fucking sorry,” Mace yelled, grabbing Landon’s arm. His accent gave him away right away. South Korean too, but Busan born, rougher around the edges, louder, fearless.

Landon laughed, breathless. “You are good. This place is a goddamn war zone.”

Mace grinned, eyes bright under the stage lights. “Worth it though. I waited three damn years for this concert.”

“Same,” Landon said. “Skipped work and told my boss to deal with it.”

Mace laughed hard. “Holy shit, I think I love you already.”

They stayed together after that, two Korean guys lost in the crowd, jumping and swearing and screaming lyrics like idiots. When the crowd surged, Mace grabbed Landon’s hand to keep him close, and neither of them let go.

By the last song, Landon turned to him, chest heaving. “This was fucking insane.”

Mace nodded. “Best night ever. And not just because of the music.”

Landon smirked. “You wanna grab drinks after this and keep the chaos going?”

Mace squeezed his hand. “Hell yes. No way I am letting another South Korean concert soulmate disappear after all this shit.”