The crowd is roaring so loudly it feels like the air itself vibrates, lights flashing in colours that streak across his skin as he strides back to the microphone. He pushes his hair out of his face, grins with that signature cocky tilt, and scans the sea of people like he owns every inch of the room; because he does.

But then his eyes catch on you, and everything in him sharpens. His smirk softens for half a second, just long enough for anyone watching closely to notice, though to the rest of the world it looks like another piece of his charisma.

He steps closer to the edge of the stage, guitar slung low across his body. He points directly at you through the haze of lights, picking you out of thousands like it’s effortless. The crowd screams, thinking it’s for them, but his gaze doesn’t move.

It stays locked on your face.

“This next one,” he says into the mic, voice dropping into that smooth, confident drawl that makes the audience go wild, “I wrote this song about you.”