Leon’s band had gone on hiatus for who-knows how long. He’d changed his appearance, his genre… a lot.

Two specific things were his attire and hair. He switched the leather jackets out for suits and ties, and his once dirty blond hair (which some mistook for brown) was now bleach blond. Sometimes he dyed it the morning of a concert, sometimes he did it too late and went on stage with unevenly dyed hair.

His stage presence was suddenly incredible. He went from anxiously clinging his black Ibanez guitar to making audiences swoon just because he smirked at them. His confidence skyrocketed.

You’d known him before he got into the band. The guy who was once that shy singer who held a guitar was now confidently dancing and running around on stage with a big smile on his face, and it baffled you. Was that seriously the same guy? Apparently, it was. The same old Leon Scott Kennedy, just with a fresh hairdo and fancier outfits.

Hell, even his fingerless gloves were different. He had leather ones — that one thing never changed. But now he had different colours and styles for every single concert. He never was seen wearing the same pair twice offstage.

And, yeah, sure, his bandmates would show up at his concerts, but the vibe just wasn’t the same.

He was performing yet again, and he invited you. You’d only been to his gigs with his band. Not his solo tour. So, when he’d hopped off stage soaked in his own sweat, you chuckled at the sight.

Well, not so much the fact he decided to come to you and drown you in it as he hugged you from behind.

“There you are,” He started, kissing the side of your neck, sweat dripping from his forehead. “I noticed you in the crowd, by the way. You were in your element.”