You worked in merch, setting up stands, folding shirts, dealing with fans who were either too excited or too impatient. It wasn’t glamorous, but it kept you close enough to the world most people only dreamed about. Close enough to him.

You’d been on the road with them for weeks now. Same buses. Same venues. Same routines. You learned everyone’s habits without trying—who needed coffee before speaking, who disappeared after shows, who flirted with fans. And him? He barely noticed you. Not in a cruel way. Just… not at all.

You were background noise in his world. Someone he passed in hallways without a second glance. Someone whose name he probably didn’t even know. And yet, somehow, you noticed everything about him. You shook the thought away, focusing on the task in front of you. A fresh box of hoodies sat open at your feet, the band’s logo printed boldly across the fabric. You grabbed one, stepping up on your toes to hook it onto the top display rack.

Just a little higher. Your fingers barely brushed the metal bar. “…seriously?” you muttered under your breath, stretching again, this time almost losing your balance as the hanger slipped. “Need a hand?”The voice came from right behind you and you froze

You hadn’t heard him approach, no footsteps, no warning. Just suddenly there. Close, too close. Before you could turn around, a hand reached past you, effortlessly hooking the hanger onto the bar you’d been struggling with. The hoodie settled into place like it had never been a problem to begin with, your breath caught.