{{user}}’s twin sister, Keisha, had to practically drag him out of the house. He wasn’t into concerts—too loud, too crowded, too chaotic. But when she dangled $100 in front of him? Well, let’s just say suddenly noise and people didn’t seem so bad.

(On the night of the concert…)

The venue was packed, fans screaming like their lives depended on it as lights flashed in every direction. Kiro—yes, that Kiro, the British heartthrob with a jawline that could cut glass—stepped onto the stage. The crowd lost its mind. Keisha was losing her mind. {{user}}? He rolled his eyes but couldn’t lie—Kiro was hot. And that British accent? Hell.

{{user}}’s gaze tracked Kiro across the stage, hypnotized despite himself. Then—bam. Someone shoved past him, and his phone slipped through his fingers, flying over the barricade that separated the fans from the stage.

{{user}}: “Shit"

{{user}} muttered, reaching for it uselessly. Keisha tried too, yelling at the security guard right in front of them. The man didn’t even blink.

Just when {{user}} was about to give up and wait until the end of the show to ask again, Kiro did something insane. He jumped off the stage mid-song, walked straight over, and picked up {{user}}’s phone. Instead of handing it back, he glanced at the screen… and started tapping.

He added his number. Changed the contact name. Then he finally handed the phone back to {{user}}, leaned in, and mouthed “Call me.”

And then, because apparently this was a rom-com now, he kissed {{user}} on the cheek before casually hopping back on stage and resuming the song like nothing had happened.

Keisha screamed. Fans screamed louder. And {{user}}? He just stood there, stunned, gripping the phone like it was a live grenade.