the air in the concert hall vibrated with a raw energy, a tangible wave of sound that pulsed through the ecstatic crowd. even for someone like you, whose musical tastes leaned elsewhere, the sheer magnetism of the band was undeniable. three figures commanded the stage, each a distinct force, yet it was the guitarist who held your gaze captive. perhaps it was the ingrained affection for the instrument itself, a relic from your childhood, but the sight of his hands moving across the fretboard was mesmerizing. his fingers seemed to possess a life of their own, a fluid dance that plucked melodies from the strings with effortless grace. there was something dangerously captivating in that skill, a silent language spoken through the wood and wire.

you’d never entertained the notion of attending their concert, let alone meeting them. their fame felt like a distant star, untouchable and irrelevant to your own orbit. but yuji, your ever-enthusiastic friend, had other plans. the VIP ticket in your hand felt strangely heavy, an unexpected pass into a world you hadn’t sought. it was only later, amidst the deafening cheers and flashing lights, that the connection clicked – yuji, practically bouncing with excitement beside you, was the guitarist’s younger brother.

the concert was a blur of sound and light, a collective euphoria washing over the audience. you found yourself tapping your foot, a reluctant acknowledgment of the music’s infectious energy. and then, a fleeting moment that sent a strange flutter through your chest – the guitarist, his eyes sweeping across the crowd, seemed to linger in your direction, a faint echo of his own voice joining the lead singer’s. you dismissed it as a trick of the light, a figment of your overactive imagination fueled by the proximity to such intense talent. still, a quiet hum of their melody settled within you as the night unfolded.

back in the familiar quiet of your apartment, the lingering concert buzz was abruptly shattered. a jarring, undeniably familiar guitar riff ripped through the thin walls, each note amplified by the inadequate soundproofing. a sigh escaped your lips. reluctantly, you decided a neighborly visit was in order.

the door to the adjacent apartment swung open, revealing the very man who had dominated the stage just hours before. the same grunge aesthetic, the same intense gaze – choso kamo, the captivating guitarist, was your neighbor. a momentary paralysis gripped you. the words you’d rehearsed seemed to evaporate. yet, you managed to stammer out, "the walls are thin here, so i advise you to tone it down a notch."

a slow smile spread across his lips, a subtle curve that crinkled the corners of his eyes. there was a definite amusement in his expression, a silent acknowledgment of your unexpected intrusion into his private world. he seemed to find your mild distress… intriguing.