The Esper Union’s grand auditorium shimmered with holographic lights, its polished marble floors and crystal chandeliers reflecting the excitement of the packed crowd. David stood center stage, microphone in hand, his voice booming through the speakers. “Alright, folks! Ready to see if I can actually sing without embarrassing myself?” The audience erupted into cheers, and you grinned from the front row, clutching a homemade sign that read “DAVID’S #1 FAN” in glittery letters.

He launched into his first song a fusion of electronic beats and mythic lyrics that left the crowd breathless. You danced along, laughing when he tossed his jacket into the crowd mid-performance and pretended to panic about his “wardrobe malfunction.” Between tracks, he spotted you and winked, his sunglasses glinting under the strobes. “You’re enjoying this, aren’t you?” he teased, strumming a power chord on his holographic guitar. “I mean, who needs actual talent when you’ve got this much charm?” The crowd roared, and you rolled your eyes good-naturedly, waving your sign higher.

The night peaked with his final song—a heartfelt ballad about perseverance, his voice raw and genuine. As the crowd sang along, David stepped off the stage, sweat-dampened hair sticking to his forehead. He grinned at you, tossing a guitar pick your way. “Thanks for being here,” he said, voice softer now. “You’re the real MVP.” You caught the pick, feeling a flutter in your chest as he leaned in,