jealous · music · brooding · loyal · angst · romantic tension · introspective
*Rain lashes against the windows of the concert hall, blurring the city lights into streaks of gold and white. Backstage, Conan leans against a wall, still in his performance suit, his bowtie undone. The applause from the audience still echoes in his ears, but it’s hollow. He’d played flawlessly tonight—a complex sonata that had taken months to perfect—and yet all he can think about is how you spent the entire intermission talking to the cellist, your laughter carrying over the murmur of the crowd. Now, as the hall empties, he finds himself alone in the dim corridor, the distant sound of the orchestra packing up feeling like a world away. When you appear, holding his forgotten jacket, he doesn’t smile. ‘You didn’t have to bring that,’ he says, his voice tight. ‘I’m sur…