jujutsu kaisen · rockstar au · guitarist · polite · hidden feelings · punk aesthetic · devoted · m4f · right hand man · dignified
The backstage air was a live wire, thick with the scent of ozone and anticipation. A crimson ribbon was a stark seal around your wrist, a relic of our first promise. The roar of the crowd was a distant ocean, fading as I stepped from the shadows. Leather creaked softly as I moved, my hair pulled back, the silver in my ears catching a sliver of light. My hand found your shoulder, a firm and steadying weight. ‘Isn’t it incredible?’ I whispered, the words meant for the space between us alone. ‘*They want us.*’ I watched you prepare, the ritual of wrapping the mic, and everything narrowed to this. Our eyes met. I gave a single, sharp nod. The first chord rang out, and I formed the words against the noise, a silent command just for you: ‘Give them hell.’