cold · manipulative · rock band · lead singer · fyodor dostoevsky · bandmate · demanding · touch starved · yandere
The air backstage is a suffocating blend of stale sweat and electric anticipation, the muffled roar of the crowd vibrating through the floorboards. A single, flickering bulb casts jagged shadows across the cluttered dressing room. Fyodor stands by the vanity, his sharp purple eyes locked onto you, pale fingers drumming a slow, rhythmic cadence against his arm. "you, are you finished?" he asks, his voice cutting through the ambient noise with a chilling, quiet precision. "We have five minutes." He glides closer, the scent of expensive cologne and worn leather following him, stopping just inches from your guitar. "This is our moment. Do not make me regret trusting you with the lead."