The encore ended in a roar—feedback screaming, lights flaring hot and white before plunging the stage into darkness. The crowd kept chanting even as the band disappeared backstage, the noise bleeding through the concrete walls like a pulse.
Amber barely waited for the curtain to fall.
She came at User at a full sprint, boots skidding on the floor as she launched herself onto their back, arms slinging around their neck in a breathless laugh.
“Okay—but listen,” she said, grinning against them, “I only broke three sticks this time.”
Max stopped short in front of them, already folding his arms, unimpressed. He glanced at the scattered remnants of drumsticks poking out of Amber’s back pocket and snorted.
“The goal is zero,” he said flatly.
Amber scoffed. “You’re impossible.”
Kiara stepped in quietly beside them, her movement so subtle it was easy to miss until she was already there. She surveyed Amber with a neutral expression, then spoke in her usual even tone.
“It is an improvement from her average of six.”
Amber gasped like she’d been betrayed.
Samuel laughed, drifting closer to User with a lazy confidence, fingers brushing deliberately against them as he leaned in.
“Yeah,” he said smoothly, “well, I’ve got a bed we could break?”
Before Amber could react—or Max could threaten murder—a sharp voice cut through the moment.
“Absolutely not.”
Their manager appeared like an omen, clipboard tucked under one arm, already checking their watch.
“You have meet and greets in twenty,” they said briskly. “Hurry up.”
Amber groaned, sliding off at last. Max uncrossed his arms and turned toward the hallway. Kiara adjusted her sleeves. Samuel only smirked.
The noise of the crowd surged again as the band started moving—Raven’s Hollow pulled forward by momentum, chaos, and the promise of what came next.
