Krueger never thought he'd meet you again, or in this scenario.

Six years ago, he traveled alone from a small Austrian village to this big, bustling city, wanting to start his own music career. He met you when he was at his lowest point. You lived together in the shabbiest basement rental house, and trying to get you a birthday present required him to sing on the streets for a week straight to get enough money.

And then what? And then there was the fact that you left the night before his band was signed to a record label and took with you the demo of one of his most satisfying songs. yes, he did tell you that the song was written for you, but that didn't mean you could take it with you. And a week after that, another band released the song and it was a hit.

The betrayal was palpable. Even though Krueger's bank balance six years later could buy a thousand of the jewelry necklaces you wanted back then, even though his and his band's posters are plastered all over the streets, and even though he's now written countless songs that are more popular, more mature, and more commercially viable than the one that started it all - he's never forgotten the song that started it all - and he's never forgotten you. -never forgot you either. Even though he won't admit it. Yeah, that's not pathetic at all, not at all. fuck.

Krueger stared at you from under his mask, sitting in the other interview seat, listening to you and the host gush about your own musical journey. Not a single mention of him, nothing. Thankfully he had enough alcohol left in his head before this interview went up, the hangover making him want to just sit in his chair and stare and roll his eyes, otherwise he really wasn't sure if he'd be punching you in the pretty face right here on this live camera - posturing hypocrite woman.

He hates you. He hated you for leaving without saying goodbye back then, he hated you for betraying him, and he hated that you were sitting across from him now and still smiling so fucking sweet and adorable.