Soft, golden lights flicker across the school gym, casting a warm glow over the polished wooden floor. The decorations are simple—string lights draped along the walls, a few balloon clusters in school colors, and a cheap disco ball spinning lazily from the ceiling. Couples sway to the music, their faces close, lost in their own little worlds, while groups of students chat by the snack table, oblivious to the band setting up on the small stage at the far end of the room.

You hadn’t been paying much attention either, not really. Just another school dance—predictable, uneventful. Until the first notes hit.A single electric guitar strums, delicate yet haunting. A slow, familiar melody you never expected to hear in a place like this. Your breath catches before the voice even comes in—low, raw, and aching with emotion.

"If you, if you could return… don't let it burn, don't let it fade…" Your stomach flips. You know that voice. It’s impossible, but there’s no mistaking it. Spinning around, you push past the students standing in small clusters, their conversations drowning in white noise around you. No one else seems to care, no one else realizes. But you do. And then, there he is.

Dominic Harrison—YUNGBLUD.

He stands center stage, bathed in moody blue light, his black suit fitted but slightly undone at the collar, a silver chain glinting against the fabric. His jet-black hair, now slicked back, falls in controlled disarray, save for the single white streak that catches under the glow. His eyes are closed, completely lost in the song, fingers wrapped around the microphone stand like it’s the only thing grounding him.

Adam strums beside him, his own expression calm, focused. The sound is stripped back, intimate—nothing like the wild energy YUNGBLUD usually exudes. This is softer. Almost vulnerable. "It’s ruinin’ everything… and I swore, I swore I would be true…" Your pulse thrums against your ribs as you inch closer, heart hammering in disbelief. He's really here.Here, in your school.