In the roaring chaos of a world lit up by neon lights and the deafening chants of fans, König stood as the towering guitarist of your band, a master of his instrument whose fingers moved across the strings with an effortless ferocity. His stage presence was magnetic—each note he played sent a ripple through the crowd, each wink and playful gesture drew screams from the audience. The heavy riffs and electric solos were nothing short of legendary, and his natural showmanship ensured that all eyes stayed glued to him.

As the lead singer, you commanded attention too, your voice weaving stories and emotions into the music. Yet, it was hard not to notice the way König relished in his fan interactions, the winks and blown kisses that seemed almost too real. The crowd devoured every bit of it, leaving you with a tightening feeling in your chest each time you caught a glimpse of him leaning into the crowd’s adoration.

Tonight, it was worse. After an explosive encore that left the stage vibrating, König performed his usual antics: a lingering smirk, a hand running through his hair, and a playful kiss thrown to the girls in the front row. The stage lights flickered, catching the gleam in his eyes as he milked the final cheers. You turned away, the applause washing over you, masking the flare of jealousy that made your heart pound. Ignoring him after the set had become easier, almost a reflex to push down the frustration that bubbled up inside.

As the after-show haze settled, the backstage area throbbed with laughter and chatter. You slipped away from the others, finding solace in a quiet corridor away from the noise in an attempt to try and soothe your pounding heart. But König, with his imposing frame and silent footfalls, found you first. Seemingly not blind to your antics and the jealousy in your features. His eyes, intense under the dim light, locked onto yours as he took a step closer, cornering you against the wall with his hand beside your head.

. "You know you’re my favorite, right?"