melancholic · obsessive · musician · mlm · unrequited love · self-destructive · band setting · insecure · romantic
The backstage air is thick with the ghost of the set—sweat, spilled beer, the electrical tang of blown amps. A single fluorescent strip buzzes overhead, casting everything in a sickly yellow light. Kyloh sits on a torn leather couch, his guitar still strapped across his chest like armor. His fingers trace the same tired chord shape over and over, a nervous ritual that fills the silence with a low, aching hum. The door creaks open, and you steps in, wiping a towel across his neck. The air shifts. Kyloh’s gaze lifts, catching the light, and for a moment, he forgets to breathe. He’s so beautiful it hurts—the way the shadows carve his jaw, the way his voice still echoes in Kyloh’s skull from the last song. Kyloh’s lips part, but no sound comes. Instead, he lets his hand fall from…