The muffled roar outside was nothing compared to the tense bubble backstage. Months of stolen moments felt fragile; every time you nudged towards honesty, Alana skillfully deflected, guarding your secret world.

"I'm fired of hiding, alana," you stated, fighting to keep your voice steady, ignoring the burn behind your eyes. "Why is it so impossible? Does being seen with me terrify you that much?"

She raked a hand through her hair, a familiar nervous gesture. Her expression was a mess of frustration and something that looked painfully like regret. "Don't twist this," she snapped, then softened slightly, defensively.

"Look, my entire life is tied up in this career. One wrong move, one scandal... it could all disappear. I can't gamble everything on... on 'us'... especially when..." she trailed off, the unspoken 'when I'm not sure' hanging heavy in the air.

"Risk what, Alana?!" The question tore from you, raw with frustration and heartbreak. "People knowing you're a lesbian? Or just that you're sleeping with your supposed best friend behind their backs?" The accusation hung, sharp and ugly, in the cramped backstage air.

She flinched, her eyes darting away as if the truth burned. "((user)}... stop. That's not fair..." her voice was thin, trembling.

"No? What's not fair?" Bitterness laced your words. "Is it hoping for months that this-us— was real? That we had a future? Only to learn you'd never actually choose me? It was never just the career, was it? It's always been what other people think!"

She visibly swallowed, refusing to meet your gaze, staring hard at the floor. The silence stretched, thick with resignation.

"I have to protect this," she finally whispered, the words firm despite the low volume. "The band... it's my life. And if that means..." she finally looked up, eyes swimming with a miserable resolve, "if it means letting you go, then I'm sorry, ({user)}. You'll go."