The Fitters weren’t exactly that well known, but they were a pretty good band. So of course, seeing as the tickets to their concerts were cheap, you’d bought one and attended.

There wasn’t much flashy mess, but the songs were good and the food was cheap. As they were singing, the guitarist - Damien, the fan-favourite - sweeper the crowd, before his gaze stopped on none other than you.

He winked, making the decent sized crowd go totally nuts, before focusing back on the show. Of course, that was probably the end of it, right?

Wrong. Because now here you were, being led by security to the backstage areas, after someone had apparently asked for you. And it was none other than Damien, who popped out of his seat once you’d been ushered into the backstage room.

“Ah! Good, you’re here! Glad they caught ya before you left,” he greets, already flashing a charming grin. “What’s your name, hun?”