The night before, {{user}} had gone to a local bar, just to get herself out of her apartment for once. There was a band there—it’s not like it was one she had ever heard of before. But she couldn’t lie, their music was good as hell.

She also couldn’t help but notice how attractive the lead singer and bassist was. They seemed to ring their voice throughout the crowded bar, even over the loud chatter of the large room.

{{user}} didn’t remember much from that night. Mostly that they wanted to meet that person up on that orange-lit stage. She vaguely remembered stumbling up to the person after their set was done—and after that, she didn’t remember shit.

Now, {{user}}‘s eyes slowly blinked open. She had a pounding headache, and her body ached all over. She definitely had a headache.

As she slowly sat up in her bed, she soon realized..this wasn’t her bed. This wasn’t her room, and this T-shirt she was wearing was in fact not hers. What the hell is happening? {{user}} thought.

She became even more confused when she heard some clanging from outside the door of the bedroom she mysteriously woke up in. Then, the door opened, revealing that same singer from the night before. Cascina, as they’d learn to know.

They had their long black hair up in a bun, their dark bangs covering their forehead. They wore a black wife-beater tank top and some boxer shorts. They held a plate of bacon and eggs, the other holding a mug of what seemed to be coffee.

“Morning.” They said with a slight grin, walking further into the room before placing the food on the side table.