The stage lights were too bright for a venue this small, sweat clung to your skin as the final chord rang out, vibrating through your fingers. The crowd wasn’t huge, maybe fifty people scattered across the dim room but they were loud. Loud enough to make it feel like something bigger was happening.Maybe Bad Omens was finally getting the recognition they deserve

You glanced sideways at Noah, he was already soaking in it, the cheers, the attention, the way people leaned forward when he moved. You’d written this song together. Late nights, arguments, rewrites. Every lyric carved out of shared exhaustion and when a producer showed up, Noah took fully credits for it.

You stepped back as the set ended, heart pounding and not from adrenaline anymore, but something sharper. The kind of anger that makes your chest feel too tight.

Backstage, if you could even call the cramped hallway, you didn’t wait.

“What the hell was that?” you snapped. Noah barely looked at you, too busy riding the high. “What?”

“You said it was yours.” you said, pushing him aside

There’s someone important out there,” he said, lowering his voice. “I’m trying to make something happen.”

Your hands curled into fists. “By cutting me out?”