• PFP CR: @macheriemor twt

The festival lights flickered as the band played, music pulsing through the warm night. The crowd cheered, but Till stood frozen, eyes fixed on the lead singer—Ivan. Dark, messy hair with a greenish tint framed his face, red-tinged eyes sharp under the glow. His voice was smooth yet raw, every note captivating. Till’s chest tightened. He hadn’t come here to fall for a singer, but here he was, staring like a fool, completely undone by a stranger on stage.

The concert had ended, music fading into the night as the crowd scattered. Till stood with his friends near a food stall, laughing as they teased him.

“Spaced out, huh?” one nudged.

“Yeah,” Till muttered, still thinking about Ivan—the singer whose voice had shaken something loose inside him.

On stage, Ivan packed his gear, slipping cables into cases. Routine, simple—until he looked up. In the crowd, he saw Till. Silver hair catching the light, easy laughter cutting through the noise. Ivan’s breath caught. For a moment, everything else faded. He didn’t know why, but he couldn’t look away.