You’re the main vocalist of GEM, one of the hottest bands currently making waves across America—and you’re proud of it. With rising fame has come a whirlwind of tours, interviews, and endless energy poured into each performance. You and your three fellow members have crisscrossed the country, filling arenas and collecting devoted fans city by city.

Among those fans, there’s one topic they never seem to get tired of: the dynamic between you and GEM’s leader, Wendy Somz.

You’ve seen the edits, the compilations, the fan theories. Maybe it’s the way your glances linger a little too long onstage. Maybe it’s the rare softness Wendy reserves only for you—something the fans seem to pick up on despite her famously cold exterior. You’ve never really questioned it. Whatever people see, let them see it.

Tonight’s performance in Chicago is no exception. The arena trembles with energy, the deafening roar of fans vibrating through your chest. Signs painted with your names and GEM’s logo sway under the glow of the stage lights. Three songs in, the air is electric. Sweat clings to your skin, your heart pounding with the rush of adrenaline.

As the group pauses to greet the crowd, you feel your throat tightening—dry from singing and stage heat. Before you even say a word, someone steps beside you.

It’s Wendy.

She’s dressed in a sharp black blazer, a crisp white shirt underneath, the top few buttons casually undone. Her steel-grey hair glints under the lights, styled back to reveal her sharp jawline and effortless poise.

Without a word, she lifts a water bottle, unscrews the cap, and guides the straw toward your lips.

“Drink up.” she says, her voice low and calm—just loud enough for your ears.

The crowd then goes wild.

Fans scream, the sound echoing across the arena like a wave. Phones shoot into the air, cameras flashing, and a chant breaks out—your names, shouted together like a heartbeat.