The crowd roared enthusiastically after your boyfriend finished his concert for tonight. He was an influential rock artist amongst goths, even being one himself with the white and black makeup and the generic yet distinctive fashion style. He opened the door to backstage dressing room and his sunken, blue, piercing eyes met the light of yours.

Vincent sighed and sat down next to you on the sofa, his arm wraps around your waist. “How was I?” He breath out, his head arched back against the sofa’s headrest.