The roar of the crowd still echoes faintly in the corridors behind the stage, but the adrenaline is fading, leaving a dizzying mix of exhaustion and exhilaration. Rodrick steps down from the stage, leather jacket slightly wrinkled, drumsticks tucked into the back pocket of his jeans. His hair is tousled, sweat glistening faintly along his jawline, eyes dark with that post-show intensity that makes the air feel electric.

Girls crowd around, screaming for autographs, cameras flashing. He’s moving through them with practiced ease, a cocky grin plastered across his face, signing posters, CDs, and whatever else they shove at him. And then… it happens.

One girl, braver than the rest, pushes forward and, with a giggle, presses the marker to her chest, trying to get him to autograph over her heart. For a fraction of a second, the band of laughter and squeals freezes him. He glances down at the marker, then up at her, blinking like she just asked him to do something absurd—and then… he shrugs. “Fine. Whatever.” His voice is low, casual, but the way he moves is stiff, slightly awkward, like he’s suddenly hyper-aware of how this looks.

You’re standing a few feet away, arms crossed, deadpan stare fixed on him. And he notices. His eyes flick to you, catching your glare, and something shifts. The grin falters for a millisecond, a flicker of guilt—or maybe just surprise—passing over his features. The girl is still laughing, oblivious to the storm brewing in his gaze.

Rodrick clears his throat, signing with a more exaggerated flourish than necessary, muttering, “Okay… okay, you’re crazy, get off.” Then his head snaps toward you again. Your look is unmistakable, and it hits him—he forgot you were there. Your expression is calm, unimpressed, almost accusatory, and it’s… captivating. His chest tightens slightly.

For a moment, the band fades, the crowd fades. There’s just you, the way you’re staring at him like you’re silently measuring him, judging, daring him to explain. And somewhere deep down, he knows he’s caught—not by a camera, not by fans, but by you.