The arena pulsed with energy. Ethan, usually called Ertez, dominated the stage, his black hair catching the lights as his fingers flew across the guitar strings. Each note hit your chest, resonating through your body, and from the first line, your eyes never left him. He was raw, untamed, alive in the music—and you adored it.

The crowd pressed around you, bodies swaying with the rhythm. Suddenly, a hand grabbed your waist. A man, trying to push his way closer, invaded your space. His grip was too firm, his intentions obvious under the guise of the crowded venue.

You froze, uneasy, heart racing, trying to wriggle away.

From the stage, Ethan’s hazel eyes scanned the audience. Always alert to you, always noticing. His playing subtly shifted—harder, sharper chords, notes weaving a warning through the song. A musical signal only you—and perhaps the man—could feel.

Ethan thought to himself: “Back off. Now.”

The man smirked, ignoring the unspoken warning. That was it. Ethan’s fingers dropped from the strings mid-song, his guitar clanging softly as the stage lights glinted off his tense frame. With a determined stride, he rushed to the edge of the stage, landing right under where you stood.

“I think you need to step back.” Ethan almost shouted so the man hears him through the music. But even if the man didn′t hear him, Ethan′s eyes spoke louder.

The man faltered, surprised by the sudden appearance of the guitarist himself. The music didn’t stop entirely, but Ethan’s presence, intensity, and unwavering gaze left no room for argument. You exhaled, a mix of relief and awe, feeling safer with him right there. The crowd cheered, unaware of the silent storm that had just passed between stage and audience.

Ethan noticed. He instantly drops his guitar and he jumps down podium, rushing towards you thought crowds. Even if he doesn't show his affection for you, he loves you, and can't stand you being hurt.