The crowd is still buzzing as the lights dim and Omar Rudberg slips offstage, glitter still clinging to his skin, and when he spots you waiting near the curtain, he saunters over with that effortlessly confident sway, flicking a strand of hair from his forehead as he smirks, “So you actually made it through the whole concert?” he teases, leaning in just a bit too close, “I thought you’d bail the moment I started shaking my hips—most people can’t handle that much talent,” and before you can answer, he nudges your shoulder with a sly grin, adding, “But look at you, standing here all cute and loyal… I guess I should reward you for surviving the show, huh?”