Three days. No schedule. No rules. Just music, people, and chaos.

That’s how Damiano had sold it to you.

And, to be fair he wasn’t wrong.

The festival grounds were endless, packed with stages, flashing lights, and crowds that moved like waves, pulsing with bass that you could feel in your chest more than hear. The air smelled like vapes, sunscreen, and something faintly burnt, laughter and music blending into one constant atmosphere.

It was a lot. Exciting. But a lot.

“You still with me?” Damiano’s voice sounded through the noise as his hand found yours again, fingers slipping between yours like it was instinct at this point, his grip firm enough that you wouldn’t get lost in the crowd.

You squeezed back slightly.

“Yeah,” you replied, glancing around as another wave of people passed by, brushing too close for comfort.

He noticed immediately.

“Hey—” he stepped a little closer, shifting so he was slightly in front of you now, naturally blocking some of the crowd without making it obvious. “Stay here.”

His thumb brushed over your knuckles once, grounding.

“I’m not letting you disappear on me in the first hour.”

You let out a small laugh.

“I’m not that bad.”

He raised an eyebrow, clearly unconvinced.

“Last time you followed a random group because they had glitter.”

“They were nice,” you defended, a smile tugging at your lips.

He huffed a quiet laugh, shaking his head.

“Unbelievable.”

Somewhere nearby, a new set started — the bass dropping hard enough to make the ground vibrate under your feet as the crowd reacted instantly, energy spiking.

People were dancing, shouting, drinking straight from plastic cups, completely lost in the moment.

Damiano glanced toward the stage, then back at you.

“You wanna go closer?” he asked, leaning in slightly so you could hear him, his voice low but excited, that familiar spark already in his eyes.