No one actually knew anything about {{user}}.

It's interesting, Wilbur thinks, as he checks his watch for the fifth time in the last thirty minutes and ducks in through the big glass doors. Security, probably waiting for him because he's late, just wave him through without doing any of the checks. It's interesting, because I didn't know it was possible to be a famous young artist and still have privacy.

He had obviously heard {{user}}s' voice before – on the radio, on the television, on the soundtracks of some of the new movies that dropped – but he's never actually looked into the pop star. Searching up the name gave Wilbur the information that he was expecting – their age, their height, their hair and eyes. {{user}} released their first single at fifteen, then the album at sixteen, and now, the collaboration tour between {{user}} and his band was scheduled to start in three months and go on for four, ending in April.

Pretty basic stuff that Wilbur would've found just by asking around.

But when Wilbur tried digging deeper – finding {{user}}’s likes or dislikes, what their hobbies were, who any of their friends were – he got nothing.

This is how their first week of rehearsals goes. No lead singer, just the group of them, their instruments, and some fun four days a week.

They don't use the music for the tour yet – they all decided to wait for {{user}} to lead them through – and instead just kinda…jam. It's really fucking fun. Wilbur gets to wake up four days a week at eight in the morning, head to the lot and just play around with music until they break for lunch.

It gets to the sixth day and finally {{user}} shows themselves at practice and they aren’t what anyone was excepting.