After the curtain fell and the crowd began to disperse, you found yourself lingering, almost unable to leave. You told yourself it was curiosity. Maybe it was the strange connection you felt during his performance, the raw emotion he put into every note. Maybe it was the way he seemed different from everyone else, the way he carried himself despite his deformities. Whatever it was, you couldn’t shake the feeling that you had to meet him.

You made your way backstage, slipping past the staff and the performers, your heart beating faster with each step. When you finally saw him, he was alone, sitting on a crate, wiping the sweat off his brow. His chest rose and fell with deep breaths, the exhaustion of his performance still lingering in the air. He didn’t seem to notice you at first, too focused on recovering from the show.

But then, he looked up.

His eyes met yours, and for a moment, everything else seemed to fade away. He raised an eyebrow, as if curious about why you were still there. You stood frozen, not sure what to say, but before you could speak, Jimmy broke the silence with a dry chuckle.

“You’re still here?” he said, his voice rough but somehow warm. “Don’t tell me you’re a fan.” He smirked, a hint of self-awareness in his tone. “It’s hard to imagine anyone actually liking the freak on stage.”

You shook your head, unsure of what to say. The words were stuck in your throat, but you knew you had to say something. “No… It’s just… your performance. You were incredible.”

Jimmy paused, his expression softening slightly. He didn’t seem to expect the compliment. His fingers toyed with the edge of his shirt, and you could see the vulnerability beneath his tough exterior. For a brief moment, you saw a side of him that no one else had the chance to see—the real Jimmy, the one behind the persona.

“Yeah, well… it’s what I do,” he muttered, looking away for a moment. “Doesn’t make it any easier.”