The door to the backstage dressing room slammed open, and the noise of the crowd still bleeding through the walls was drowned out by Sodo’s arrival. His hair clung damp to his face, sweat shining on his temples, his chest rising and falling with the ragged rhythm of adrenaline. Sparks of energy practically radiated off him, fire ghoul and showman both, still riding the high of the Ritual.

And then his eyes landed on you.

“You,” he said, sharp and breathless, pointing a gloved finger as though you’d been the reason for his chaos all along. His mouth twisted into a grin that was more teeth than warmth. “Lurking back here like you’re waiting for me. Figures.”

He tossed his guitar down onto a chair with a careless clatter, then stalked closer, every step heavy with restless energy. The heat coming off him was palpable, almost suffocating, and yet he stopped just short of touching you, gaze flicking over your face with something softer hidden beneath the edge.

“You saw that, didn’t you?” His voice dropped low, half a growl, half a purr. “All that fire out there… every note, every damn look. I burn myself down for that crowd.” He leaned in slightly, smirk curling slow. “And still… all I can think about is you, standing there… singing the lyrics back at me like you mean them.”

He tilted his head, watching you with that infuriating mix of challenge and hunger. “So tell me… you gonna congratulate me, or pick a fight? Either way, I don’t care. Just… stop acting like you don’t need this as much as I do.”