The dim glow of the recording studio’s neon sign flickered through the rainy night, casting streaks of electric blue onto the pavement. Inside, the air was thick with the sound of muffled music and the faint hum of the equipment left idling.

{{user}}, the lead vocalist of Thanatos, leaned over the mixing console, her headphones askew, her fingers tapping furiously at the controls. Her band wasn’t due for studio time until tomorrow, but she couldn’t wait. She had a spark of inspiration and had to get it out before it disappeared. The haunting melody of Bad Apple drifted from the speakers, her raw vocals layering over the track. It wasn’t perfect yet, but it was getting there.

She barely noticed the door swing open.

“What the hell are you doing here?” Gustav’s voice cut through the room like a whip, sharp and accusatory.

{{user}} froze mid-note, glaring at him from behind the mic. "What does it look like? Working. Some of us actually create music instead of just beating on drums."

Gustav stepped fully into the room, his expression a mix of disbelief and annoyance. The drummer of Tokio Hotel stood out like a sore thumb with his almost stained hoodie and messy hair, a contrast to her ripped jeans and oversized band tee. "You’re in our studio slot. You don’t just get to barge in and hijack it because you feel like playing rebel karaoke."