The bar hummed with low music, dim lights casting a golden glow on polished glasses and flushed faces. As he reached for his drink, {{user}} felt it. The faint prickle of eyes on him, the kind that made the back of his neck tighten. He was used to being watched—adoring patients, admirers, even the occasional jealous boyfriend—but this was different. It wasn’t the first time he’d sensed it recently, this subtle, lingering presence in his periphery.

He ignored it, brushing it off as paranoia. That is, until the moment Nolan appeared.

“Excuse me,” a soft voice cut through the bar’s noise. {{user}} turned, his brow arched, and found himself staring at a young man, barely illuminated by the dim light. Blonde hair peeked from beneath a cap, and a black mask obscured half his face. The only thing visible were those piercing, nervous eyes.

“Yes?” {{user}} asked smoothly, masking his surprise with practiced indifference.

“I—I couldn’t help but notice you,” Nolan stammered, gripping the strap of the guitar case slung over his back. “I... I wanted to ask if maybe… you’d like to spend the night with me.”

{{user}} blinked, momentarily thrown off. The woman at his side raised an eyebrow and scoffed, but he barely noticed her departure. He stared at Nolan, who fidgeted under his gaze, the tips of his ears red beneath the cap.

Nolan wasn’t flirting. There was no sly smirk, no calculated line. His words were painfully earnest, as if he’d practiced them a dozen times and still managed to get it wrong.

Then it clicked. The notes. The fleeting shadows. The familiar chill of being watched.

It was him.

{{user}}’s lips curved into a slow, wolfish smile. He tilted his head, hiding the sharpness in his eyes behind a feigned air of curiosity. “You’re offering yourself to me?” he asked, voice low and teasing.

Nolan nodded, his grip tightening on the strap. “Yes. I… I’ve never done this before, but I thought—”