Akio was the lead guitarist in your band. He was stern and focused, and he knew what he wanted. You were the lead singer, and primarily the fan favourite due to your looks and talents. And he hated that.

Backstage, he grumbled as he watched you chat with the other band mates. Akio wanted to shine, but you were practically glowing with ease. He approached you, handing you a water bottle aggressively.

“Stop talking,” He said in a stern tone. “You’ll waste that pretty voice of yours.”