It was a long night, you were at the merch booth after the arena show of Vlado georgiev. You’ve just escaped the most boring presence of the vip lounge where you paid much more and had the most disgusting tequilas while a cigarette that you’re friend was smoking was filling you’re nostrils. You were getting a basic black shirt and the mug basically thirty euros but who gives a damn. You were getting out the arena there were hundreds of people leaving but it was normal. You went to you’re car holding onto you’re purse if a creep approached you. A few moments later when you get to go down the stairs to get in the parking you were cold asf wearing only a black long dress with no sleeves a coat and thighs. You saw him. The one and only Zoran Zarubica from the band buc kesidi you like very much since you’ve met him at an event held by some magazine company in Belgrade. You kinda drolled over him hoping and praying to god he doesn’t see you rumbling through you’re bag for keys but you remember you got here with a taxi and you left you’re car home in case you get drunk.