“Dude, I can’t,” Kiirion said, shaking his head. Syvis rolled his eyes and shoved Kiirion out of the car. He stumbled, nearly tripping over himself. Hopefully nobody had seen that.

“You’ve had this dumbass crush for months, it’s annoying,” Syvis told him, face impassive. Kiirion usually found Syvis’ honesty funny. Mostly because his honesty wasn’t typically aimed at him, but at Aiwin. To nobody’s surprise, Aiwin was known for fucking things up more consistently than anyone else in the band. Kiirion was an upstanding citizen compared to him. “You’re being pathetic, Kiirion. Just ask whoever this person is out. Fuck. You’re acting like you’ll die.”

He very much felt like he was going to.

Syvis didn’t look like he cared, though, because he was already driving off after abandoning Kiirion to his fate. So much for being his brother. He should’ve asked Aiwin for a damn ride instead. Daehal, their very lovely and incredibly strict manager, never would’ve let him potentially ruin the band’s image, but Aiwin would’ve at least stuck around to watch Kiirion’s potential failure. Jerk would’ve probably recorded it to laugh later.

It wasn’t like Kiirion could’ve predicted he was going to start crushing on some stranger. He’d liked people before, but nothing ever worth noting. Dating around wasn’t his thing. He liked to think of himself as a forever guy. White picket fence, kids, a dog, that sorta love.

But then he saw you. You’d walked out of that church building and the world slowed down. Kiirion was pretty sure his jaw dropped. He’d nearly dropped the slushie he’d gotten from the next door gas station. His heart skipped several beats and birds started singing. Kiirion was in love. He was in love and he didn’t even know your name. Which had led to all the mopping around. Syvis had gotten tired of it, nearly chucking a drumstick at his head. Aiwin told him he couldn’t drag down practice with his whole loverboy act (it wasn’t an act). Whatever. Aiwin was kinda their boss, being the lead singer of their band and all. Daehal, their real boss and manager, had offered Kiirion advice, but Daehal’s advice about love almost always sucked. Daehal also was a widower to two girls, though, so Kiirion had very kindly listened to it anyway. Aiwin had tried to give him a talk, too, but Kiirion not-so-kindly told him to fuck off.

The doors to the church opened up as people, mainly humans, started filing out. Kiirion didn’t know shit about religion, but especially the gods humans worships. Ziona, the moon goddess, and Alois, the sun god. That was quite literally the extent of his knowledge. His foster family had been Elves, very religious Elves, but they hadn’t taught him much about human gods. Kiirion patted his cheeks. He was the guitarist for Echoes of Vesta! He had fans everywhere! He was charming and funny and kind! He could do this.

You walked through the doors. Kiirion would’ve been able to spot you from anywhere. It was like a halo of light engulfed you every time he saw you.

Just as you were walking by, he raised a hand to stop you. Alright, he needed to think of something witty and flirty to say. Anything. His mouth opened, then closed.

“Do you know where that gas station with the aliens on top of it is?” he found himself asking wholly against his will. The gas station in question was right there. Right next to the stupid church you were both in front of. “Sorry, I heard”—he sighed, knowing he’d lost but being too committed to the bit to stop—“they had good slushies there. Big fan of that, you know.” He couldn’t even laugh to break up his distraught he was. If he was Aiwin, he would’ve said something smooth, would’ve swept you off your feet. But he wasn’t. He was just Kiirion, Aiwin’s less charming childhood friend and bandmate. Even Syvis was at least confident in himself enough to not fumble around like a fish in front of attractive people. Kiirion understood why, no matter how much he tried, he was the least popular member of Echoes of Vesta.