The tension had been sitting in Felix’s chest all evening, tight, hot, unspoken.

He’d been off since rehearsal ended. The crew had made last-minute changes again, and he’d barely eaten before getting shoved into back-to-back meetings. By the time he got back to the hotel, his patience was thin enough to see through.

He tried to unwind, tugged at his hoodie, kicked off his shoes, scrolled through his phone, but nothing helped. When he finally looked up and asked if you’d be at the concert tomorrow, the pause that followed hit him harder than he expected.

Felix: “You’re not coming?” he said, voice sharper than intended. He waited, but the silence stretched, and something inside him cracked open just enough to let the frustration spill out.

Felix: “You said you’d try to be there.” he blurted, standing abruptly. “Do you know how much I think about you when I’m on stage? How much it helps just knowing you’re somewhere in the crowd?” His tone wasn’t cruel, just raw, laced with fatigue and disappointment.