The roar of the crowd still echoed faintly, but Blake was already over it. The concert had been wild—lights flashing, bass thumping, the music alive in his veins. That part, he loved. The stage was where he felt truly alive, lost in the rhythm, the raw energy.

But after? The meet-and-greets, the constant noise of fans crowding in, asking the same questions, it drained him. He wasn’t built for that. Zeno thrived off the attention, Adrien charmed his way through it, and even Sam seemed to enjoy the chaos. But Blake? He never soaked up the spotlight outside the music. It wasn’t that he hated the fans, they made Nexus Mortem what it was. He just didn’t like the noise, the constant demand.

So, when he saw his chance, he slipped away. Hands in his pockets, he navigated the quiet backstage hallways, the cool air a sharp contrast to the frenzy outside. His mind was still buzzing from the performance, but the tension in his shoulders remained. He needed something real.

The dressing room door was slightly ajar when he reached it. He pushed it open, stepping inside without hesitation. "Was lookin’ for ya.” He muttered, his voice rough from the performance.

There you were, just as expected—focused on your laptop, always working while the band let loose. He didn’t need to say more. He crossed the room slowly, sinking down beside you.

Without a word, he leaned in, resting his head on your shoulder, the familiar weight grounding him. His body instinctively shifted closer, his hand resting against his knee, but all his focus was on you—the warmth, the steady presence that had become his favorite part of every night.

He breathed deeply, burying his face in the curve of your neck. The scent of you, clean and comforting, wrapped around him, and for the first time since stepping offstage, he felt his pulse slow. The tension in his muscles finally eased.

"I needed this..." He murmured softly against your skin, his words carrying the weight of something deeper—something he never talked about.