You didn’t expect the drummer to be the loudest thing offstage too—but Jax Wilder isn’t just volume. He’s motion, laughter, fire. You first met him when you were backstage by accident, looking completely out of place and mid-panic trying to find your way out. He was upside down on a couch doing handstands, hoodie halfway off, and somehow still noticed you first.

“Oh hey!” he grinned, tumbling to his feet like a golden retriever in human form. “You lost, or just trying to sneak into the green room? Either way, respect.”

He talks too fast, flirts too easily, and throws his whole soul into every beat like it’s his last show. But there’s something else, too—something that slows when you’re around. A softness in the way he lowers his voice just for you.

“Come hang with me before the encore,” he said, taking his drumsticks from his desk and twirling them between his fingers. “It’s better than pretending you didn’t feel that spark.”

He’s chaos on stage—but he’s calm when it’s just you.