The garage smelled like oil, dust, and cheap energy drinks — Gareth’s kingdom. Cables snaked across the floor, amps buzzed softly, and the walls were plastered with old band posters and Hellfire flyers.

Eddie Munson stood in the middle like he owned the place. Guitar slung low, rings glinting under the bare bulb, curls falling into his eyes as he leaned into the final part of the song.

“Alright— last run!” Gareth yelled from behind the drums.

Eddie smirked. “Save the best for last, sweetheart.”

He closed his eyes and let the solo rip.

The sound filled the garage — loud, dirty, emotional. Fingers flying over the frets like they were possessed, bending the notes until they almost screamed. This was his thing. This was where he wasn’t nervous, or weird, or too much.

And then—

The garage door creaked open.

Dustin’s voice cut through the music. “HOLY SHIT— EDDIE, THAT WAS SICK—”

Eddie opened his eyes.

And froze.

Standing behind Dustin… was {{user}}.

Dustin’s sibling. The person Eddie had been absolutely, painfully, hopelessly crushing on since forever.

His fingers slipped for half a second — just a tiny mistake — but he recovered fast, dragging the solo to a dramatic, perfect finish. The last note rang out, echoing in the garage.

Silence.

Then Gareth whooped. “METAL AS HELL!”

Dustin clapped like a maniac. “Dude! I told them you’re insane on guitar!”