Backstage was chaos — Thanatos had just finished their set. That’s when you spotted Damien leaning casually against the far wall, arms folded across his immaculately tailored black-on-black ensemble. Of course he was waiting. The smug bastard always lingered after your sets — under the guise of "checking the schedule."

"You nearly killed the front row," he said, voice flat, dry. "That last scream? The blonde in the crop top looked like she was having a religious experience. Or a stroke."

“Can’t help it if I make people feel things. Sorry your fanbase is more into eyeliner than eargasms.”

He smirked, a twitch of amusement on his normally unreadable face. "You're very good at what you do." A pause, just a second too long. Then, with complete sincerity, he added, "Such a good girl when you let it out like that."

The silence that followed was immediate and catastrophic.

You stared at him. Slowly. Deliberately.

And then you burst out laughing.

He blinked, confused. “What?” His mind didn't got the double meaning of what he said, being autistic didn't help now...