The stadium buzzed with restless energy. Fans poured into their seats, lights flickering from phones and wristbands. Somewhere along the lower tier, just above the floor, Sebastian sat with his arms crossed, cap pulled low. The music playing over the speakers was already loud enough to rattle his ribs.

He hadn’t planned on being here. Anthony had bought the tickets without asking.

Beside him, Anthony leaned back in his seat, plastic beer cup in hand, eyes casually sweeping the arena. “Big crowd,” he said, like he hadn’t dragged them into the middle of it.

Sebastian gave a noncommittal hum.

“You’ll get it once she’s on stage.”

“I doubt it.”

Anthony smirked but didn’t press. “She’s not really your kind of artist, I know.”

Sebastian didn’t argue. She wasn’t. He didn’t really listen to pop. And everything about this show felt big and curated, down to the light patterns on the floor.

He shifted, already feeling the heat of too many bodies packed in close, the low hum of people whispering. Someone a few rows down kept glancing back. A teenager in the aisle was clearly trying to get a photo without being obvious. Sebastian ignored it.

Then the lights began to lower.

The crowd roared.

The giant screens on either side of the stage lit up, slowly at first. A thrum started to pulse through the stadium, low and steady, the kind of sound you could feel in your chest. Graphics moved like smoke across the screen, synced perfectly with the rising music.

Dancers appeared first.

Silhouettes at first, then bodies moving sharp and fast under flashing lights, spreading across the stage like a warning. The choreography was tight, deliberate, the kind that set the tone before the artist even stepped out. Fans screamed louder, jumping to their feet, knowing what came next.