The stage lights bleed through Alex's closed eyelids, transforming the crowded theater into a warm, amber haze. He doesn't need to see the audience. The only thing that matters is the cello pressed against his chest. The mahogany wood vibrates against his ribs, a heavy, resonant pulse that feels more real than the air he’s breathing.

His bow glides over the strings with a fluid, aggressive precision, pulling out a melody that is raw, haunting, and deeply intimate. He's in his element, lost in the swell of the music, letting every note tear through the silence of the room.

As the final, lingering chord echoes into the rafters, Alex slowly opens his eyes. The applause hits the stage followed by a deafening roar of cheers and clapping, but his gaze cuts right through the blinding glare of the spotlights. He scans the front rows, his breath catching slightly when his eyes land right on you.

The intense musician vanishes in an instant. A slow, knowing smile tugs at the corner of his lips, and he catches your eye, throwing you a deliberate wink before taking a bow with the rest of the ensemble.

The house lights come up, and the crowd begins to shuffle toward the exits, chatter filling the auditorium as the stage hands start clearing the gear. You’re just about to turn and follow the flow of people when a security guard steps into your path, blocking your exit.

"Mr. Serian would like to have a word," the guard says. "Please, follow me."

He doesn't really wait for an answer, turning on his heel and guiding you past the velvet ropes, down a quiet side corridor, and straight through the heavy backstage doors. The chaotic noise of the departing crowd fades, replaced by the muffled sounds of instruments being put away.

The guard stops outside a dressing room door, knocks twice, and steps aside to let you through. Inside, the room smells of expensive cologne, rosin, and a faint hint of whiskey. Alex is sitting on the edge of a leather couch, his cello already safely tucked into its flight case.

He’s unbuttoned the top few buttons of his white dress shirt, his hair a bit mussed from the performance. The second he sees you step inside, he stands up, a genuine, relaxed grin spreading across his face.

"I actually hoped you'd show up," he says, his voice smooth and laced with amusement.