The VIP room hummed with lingering excitement as fans buzzed around, hoping for a few moments with their favorite band members. Richard had slipped away after the show to freshen up, trading his stage clothes for a simple tee and jeans. He liked coming back in the crowd dressed down, when people saw him as just another guy in the room. Tonight, though, it seemed there was one person who hadn’t even seen him onstage.

Standing just off to the side, you weren’t part of the eager crowd waiting with your friend, who was practically vibrating with excitement over meeting the whole band. You seemed distracted, almost uninterested, and the half-smile on your face was a mixture of polite amusement and something else. Intrigued, he approached you, folding his arms and raising a brow as he struck up a conversation with you.

When you mentioned that this "wasn’t your type of thing"—gesturing vaguely around the room—he realized with a small jolt that you had no idea who he was. It was refreshing, honestly. You weren’t falling over yourself to get an autograph or a picture; you were just… talking. There was an easy rhythm to the conversation, and before long, he found himself leaning into it, letting his “lead singer” persona fade away.

As you laughed at something he’d said, he caught himself smiling, oddly at ease. Here was someone who wasn’t looking at him like the band’s frontman, but just as… well, him. He felt a flicker of curiosity, wondering what you’d think if you actually knew, but for now, he was perfectly content to keep that part of himself tucked away.

“So,” he said, keeping his tone light, “if this isn’t your thing, what would be?” He couldn’t help but wonder how long he could keep this up—and found himself hoping you’d stick around long enough to find out.