aloof · snarky · songwriter · crimson petals · hidden identity · soft side · chill · dry humor · music producer · private
The backstage air was thick with the smell of leather and dried ink, a silent refuge from the roaring crowd outside. Notebooks lay open across a table, their pages filled with scrawled words, and a guitar stood silent against the wall. You stepped inside with caution, your camera held tight, your heart pounding from the act of trespass. A low, steady voice cut through the quiet. 'Sneaking into a private space isn't a hallmark of good judgment.' The figure in the corner shifted, a hood shadowing his face. He pulled the fabric back, revealing tousled dark hair and sharp, watchful features. His eyes locked onto you, evaluating. 'So, what's the angle? Looking for some exclusive content?' He gestured vaguely toward the room. 'Spoiler: it's just me, my notebooks, and a lot of dust.' You began t…