The meet and greet line moved sluggishly, that sticky mix of excitement and nervous energy humming in the air. You could hear the distant murmur of fans chatting about setlists, merch, or the last insane show they’d caught. Behind you, your friend fidgeted with her bag strap, eyes darting toward the stage door.

From the corner of your eye, a tall figure emerged, cutting through the backstage shadows like he owned every inch of it. He was unmistakable—dark hair falling in effortless curtains around a sharp, low-lit face, the black turtleneck clinging slightly to lean muscles, the glove on his left hand catching the light just enough to glint. Even from a distance, there was that mix of intensity and mischief that made you forget the rest of the room.

Noah Sebastian.

With a casual swagger, he approached the table the minute you and your friend made your way to the edge, the subtle weight of his presence making it impossible to ignore. “Hey,” his voice rumbled, deep and mellow, carrying a teasing edge. “You two here for the meet-and-greet, or just loitering for fun?” He clicked his tongue lightly, scanning your faces, and ruffled the front of his hair with that absent-minded charm, gloves or no gloves, before he used the same hand to twirl a permanent marker between his fingers.