ANYTHING > HUMAN

The bed shifted beside you. You rubbed your eyes, blinking sleepily. Noah was awake. He was… very awake. Noah was sitting on the bed, hair a little damp from showering. He was already dressed in a hoodie and a pair of jeans. He was sitting against the headboard, one knee bouncing relentlessly as he scrolled on his phone. 

You looked at him, then at his phone in his hands, and then back to him again. 

“...What time is it?” you croaked. 

His head snapped in your direction instantly. 

“Oh! Did I wake you?” 

You furrowed your brows at him. 

“I mean…Yeah,” you said, stretching your arms above your head. “So… What time is it?” 

He looked at you a little sheepishly. 

“It's… 6:28 AM.” 

“...Have you been awake long?” 

“Not that long.” 

“But you’ve showered?” 

“I might’ve been on a run.” 

You sat up, looking at him with increased confusion. 

“I couldn't sleep,” he admitted simply. 

A second later, the alarm on your phone rang. You turned it off with a groan before letting yourself fall sideways against him. Noah barely had time to react before you had climbed into his lap, wrapping your arms loosely around his neck. His large hands settled around your waist as you buried your face against his shoulder. 

“You’re exhausting," you sighed. 

Noah giggled. 

“Good morning to you too, sweetheart.” 

You lifted your head to find him grinning widely. You squinted at him. 

“...It’s 6:30 in the morning.” 

“Yes.” 

“And you went for a run.”

“Also yes…” 

“And took a shower…” 

“Maybe.” 

“I rest my case,” you said as you once again rested your head against his shoulder. 

You let out a content sigh as his fingers disappeared into your hair, gently pulling your hair tie from it. He rested his chin on the top of your head as one hand lazily combed through your hair. Noah gently scratched the back of your head and you could feel yourself melt further into him. 

To imagine that you a little more than twenty-four hours ago had been terrified of waking up beside a man who regretted everything. Instead, you woke up beside a Noah who couldn’t even sleep because he was so excited to tell his friends. 

“You’re still bouncing,” you whispered into the crook of his neck. 

He looked down, as if he hadn’t noticed. He stopped for a moment, just to promptly start again. You could only laugh at him. 

“Honey…” you giggled.

“I know,” he sighed, “I just can't wait to tell them.” 

“They’re probably not even awake yet, you know.” 

“I know…” 

There was silence for a second while Noah continued to comb through your hair. 

“Do you think Jolly’s gonna cry?” Noah wondered. 

You laughed quietly against his shoulder. 

“You’ve given this some thought, huh?” 

“Maybe…” 

“For how long?” 

He hesitated. 

“Since I woke up…”

“Which was?” 

“Four.”

You just shook your head.

Neither of you seemed to be in a hurry to move. You could, in fact, have stayed there all day. It took far more willpower than it should have to pull yourself away from him.

“As much as I’d love to stay here forever,” you sighed, sliding off his lap, “I think I should get ready so that we can eat before we need to leave.” 

Nick was already sitting at a booth in the breakfast room when you and Noah arrived, sipping coffee and tearing his croissant into little pieces. He smiled warmly as you caught his eye. You went over to sit with him since Noah had insisted that he would bring you your breakfast. 

“Morning, mom,” Nick grinned as you sat down beside him. 

You gave him a playful shove in the shoulder, even though you noticed that nickname didn’t bother you the same way it did mere days ago. 

“Good morning, uncle Nick,” you retorted. 

“Ugh! That makes me sound so old!” 

You shrugged.

“And how do you think you calling me mom makes me feel?” 

He squinted at you for a moment before holding up both hands in front of him. 

“Touché,” he said. “Doesn’t mean I’ll stop though.”

A minute later, Noah reappeared, carefully balancing two trays full of plates and two glasses of orange juice, accompanied by one large and one small cup of coffee. 

Nick looked from the trays to Noah and back again. 

“...Dude.” 

You did the same. 

“Babe, I asked for breakfast… Not catering.” 

Noah shrugged and looked at you. 

“I wasn’t sure what you’d be in the mood for,” he said as he sat down on the opposite side of the table. “Take what you want and I’ll have the rest.” 

“I know what this is,” Nick said matter-of-factly. “You’re nesting.”

“I’m not!” 

“You brought half of the breakfast buffet to the table.” 

“You should’ve seen what he ordered last night,” you snorted as you reached for a stack of pancakes. 

Nick looked at Noah for a long moment. 

“What?” 

“Nothing.” 

“...Nick?” 

Nick took another sip of coffee without breaking eye contact.

“You just… I mean— I understand that you’re happy. But you’re grinning like a kid on Christmas at seven in the damn morning,” Nick said. 

“What do you mean?” Noah asked. “I’m always cheerful!” 

That made both you and Nick snort out loud. 

“Rude,” he said, pointing at the two of you.”Both of you.” 

“But if you have to know…” Noah started. 

“We’re telling Jolly and Folio today,” you finished with a smile. 

“I can’t wait to see their faces…” Noah sighed.

Nick chuckled before wrapping an arm around your shoulders and giving you a squeeze. You felt like your heart could burst. The three of you were still the only ones who knew. For a moment, nothing else seemed to exist but the warm familiarity of your friend’s embrace and the impossibly proud smile on your boyfriend’s face.

“They’re gonna be really happy for you, you know.” 

“I think so too,” Noah beamed. 

As you sat up straight again, reaching for your small cup of coffee, Nick stated that you should hurry up with breakfast before the rest of the band and crew got up and Noah accidentally spilled the secret whilst reaching for scrambled eggs. 

Before long, breakfast had given way to the familiar routine of show day. You found yourself squeezed between Noah and Folio in the back of a touring van. Noah's hand instantly found your thigh, fingers tapping a restless rhythm against the denim of  your jeans.

Jolly, Nick and Folio were all talking about the show later that day. Noah was looking out of the window, gaze fixed on a spot far away. 

“I still think that pyro cue is too early,” Jolly said. 

“No way!” Folio argued. 

“It is though!” 

“Okay, Mr. Melody…” 

Jolly gasped dramatically, looking offended. 

“But if we want it on the beat, it’s perfect,” Folio concluded. 

“It’s not.” 

“It is,” Folio shrugged. “It’s not my fault that you don’t know what a beat is.” 

Nick almost choked on his water, bursting out laughing. 

“I know what a beat is!” 

“...Debatable.” 

“What do you think, Noah?” Nick asked. 

Nothing. 

“...Noah?” 

You gave Noah a bit of a bump with your shoulder. 

“Hm?” 

“...What do you think?” Nick asked again. 

There was a pause. 

“...Fire?” 

Jolly gave him a look. 

“...Have you listened to anything we’ve just said?” 

“Not really, no,” Noah admitted with a sheepish grin. 

The van slowed as it turned into the road in front of the arena, heading towards the entrance behind the venue. It wasn’t even half past eight in the morning, and yet a line of fans already curled around the side of the building. You watched them, bundled up in hoodies, jackets and blankets in the morning chill. A few seemed to exchange homemade bracelets, a few seemed to be singing. Your heart warmed at the sight. They were all here for them. For the band that, at least to you, it felt like yesterday played for a few hundred people at most. 

Nick noticed too. 

“Jesus…” he said.

Jolly leaned forwards to get a better look out the window. 

“They’re here already?” he said, sneaking a glance at his phone. “It’s 8:25. We’re not on for another like… thirteen hours.” 

“They’re dedicated,” you smiled. 

“Or insane,” added Folio. 

“Probably both,” Nick concluded. 

Noah barely noticed. His hand was still resting on your thigh, fingers drumming an uneven rhythm. You put your hand above his, fingers snaking between his. You gave his hand a little squeeze. 

“You’re thinking too loud,” you whispered as you put your head on his shoulder. 

He gave a small laugh. 

“Am I?” 

“Definitely.” 

As the van came to a stop, Noah exited the car first. He silently held a hand out to you, helping you down the small step. Your handbag slipped down your shoulder and you hoisted it back up again. That morning you had chosen the larger of the two bags you’d brought with you, packing it to bursting point with everything you might need for a day backstage. Without saying a word, Noah slipped his fingers under the shoulder strap of your bag, lifting the bag off from your shoulders and onto his own. You gave him a questioning look. 

“Pretty girls shouldn't carry heavy bags,” he stated simply. 

Even backstage, the arena felt huge. You had gotten used to larger and larger dressing rooms as the band grew. But this? Corridor after corridor, large room after large room. The hustle and bustle of the crew felt familiar, but the scale of things did not. Flight cases rolled past, crew members with headsets hurried past and disappeared behind unmarked doors.

“This is…” you whispered. 

“I know,” Noah said, throwing an arm around your shoulders. 

“I feel like I need a map!” 

Noah chuckled and led you into a dressing room. The dressing room alone was larger than some of the venues they had played in the past. Black leather sofas had been arranged into a lounge area in the center of the room, surrounded by clothing racks and tables already covered in plates of fruit, pastries and snacks. 

You just stood there, taking it all in. Sure, the venues had gotten bigger and bigger. But this first arena tour…? It would take some getting used to. Noah went to unpack his stage clothes, hanging them on one of the clothing racks behind you. Nick dropped onto one of the sofas without a second thought, Jolly made a beeline for the coffee and Folio asked if anyone knew the Wi-Fi password. 

A second later, you felt Noah's arms snake around your waist from behind, pulling you gently against his warm chest. His chin settled on top of your head as you got enveloped in the familiar scent of his cologne. 

“You good?” 

“I was just trying to figure out where this room ends.” 

A quiet chuckle rumbled through his chest, the vibration traveling through your back as his arms tightened ever so slightly around your waist. 

“You’ll get used to it,” he mumbled. 

“...Come on. There’s something I want to show you.” 

”Oh? Where are you taking me?”

”You’ll see.” 

He turned to Nick. “Is that okay? I’ll be back before soundcheck” 

“Dude,” Nick grinned. “Go show off.” 

Ten minutes later, the van pulled up to a back alley a few blocks away from the arena. 

You frowned. 

“...Lovely alley, babe!” 

Noah only smiled. 

“Come on.”

The moment he had pulled you through the back door and into the space, you understood. 

He had talked about the pop up stores for a while. He had been really excited about them. But seeing them in real life was something entirely else. 

Black drapes covered almost every wall. Somehow the space felt less like a merch store and more like an art gallery. Soft spotlights illuminated framed photographs and artwork from the latest singles, arranged in mismatched antique frames. 

“Noah…” you breathed. 

To one side, clothing racks held neatly arranged hoodies and t-shirts. On the other side stood the black, sleek counter with the word OMENS glowing on it. Scattered around the room were display cases with memorabilia, stands with old, static TVs. It felt… personal. Intimate.

Noah looked at you instead of the room. Your lips were slightly parted as your eyes wandered across it. Every few seconds they landed on something new, widening again with a mixture of disbelief and childlike wonder. 

“You like it?” Noah asked, both hands in his jeans pockets. 

“Honey…” you said, walking over to the framed artworks, “It’s beautiful.”

You lifted a hand, gently tracing the intricate design of one of the frames. He walked over too, standing next to you. 

“These are gorgeous,” you gushed. 

“The frames took way longer than you’d think,” he said, a note of pride in his voice. 

As you turned your head, a display case caught your eye. You walked over to it. 

“No way.” 

You stepped closer to the glass case almost instinctively. The black knit of the ski mask was still intact. But the right side had been transformed to something almost grotesque. Layers of blistered, charred latex clung to the fabric in what looked just like burnt flesh. You leaned even closer. 

“You know…” 

Noah hummed beside you. 

“I always thought the mask was pretty hot.” 

He blinked. 

“...You did?” 

“Mhm.” 

The corner of his mouth twitched. 

“There’s something wrong with you.” 

You gave him a blinding smile as an answer. 

Then a new hoodie design caught your eye. You walked over, taking the fabric in your hands. It felt soft and warm. 

“Noah?” 

“Yes, sweetheart?”

“Can I have one of these?” 

He laughed. 

“You don’t think you have enough Bad Omens merch?” 

You furrowed your brows at him. 

“Absolutely not.” 

He didn’t answer. Instead, Noah reached over your shoulder, slid the hoodie off the hanger and folded it over his arm. 

“Come on.” 

“We’re leaving?” 

“Yeah.” He nodded towards the door, one hand outstretched to you. “Before the team gets here.” 

You frowned, but took his hand nonetheless. 

“Why?” 

The corner of his mouth twitched upwards. 

“Because there is no way in hell my own girlfriend is paying for my merch.” 

By the time you had made it back to the arena, the backstage chaos had already intensified. The corridors had been quiet enough when you arrived earlier that morning, now they were filled with crew members hurrying past. Some carrying guitar cases, some coils of thick black cables. The crackle of radios mixed with shouts about light and pyro. 

The next couple of hours slipped by in the familiar rhythm of show day. In the dressing room, Nick had just lost spectacularly to Ricky in Mario Kart and Jolly had somehow managed to piss a crew member off with a “controversial take” on pizza toppings. You had curled up on one of the sofas next to Noah with his arm lazily draped over your shoulder, hand coming to a rest on your hip. Before you knew it, your eyelids had fluttered shut. 

You woke up a while later to Noah gently brushing a strand of hair away from your face. 

“Sweetheart…” Noah's voice was little more than a whisper.

You blinked sleepily up at him. 

“Oh?” 

“I’m sorry to wake you, sleepyhead, but we have media in ten minutes.”

“...Did I fall asleep?” 

A quiet chuckle escaped him. 

“For about forty-five minutes.” 

Your eyes widened. 

“I did?” 

As you pushed yourself upright, something soft slid from your shoulders into your lap. A soft, fuzzy blanket. You frowned. 

“...Where did this come from?” 

Nick looked up from where he was now nursing what was probably his fourth cup of coffee of the day.

“You looked like you needed one.” 

“Thanks, Nick.” 

Nick shot you a smile before pushing himself up from the sofa. 

“Ready?” he asked, looking at Noah. 

“Yeah.” 

You glanced across the room. At some point while you’d been asleep, a part of the dressing room had been transformed. A small camera had been set up against a black backdrop with five chairs set up in a neat row. Jolly and Folio were already chatting with a journalist. 

Noah looked back at you. 

“You okay?” 

“Mhm,” you nodded. 

He leaned down, pressing a quick kiss to your lips. 

“I’ll be right over there.” 

“I figured.” 

He smiled. 

“Still.” 

With one last kiss to your forehead, Noah turned and made his way over to join the others for a rare interview. 

You tucked the blanket a little tighter around yourself before unlocking your phone, absentmindedly scrolling through social media. Every now and again, your eyes drifted up from the screen, catching snippets of the interview as they all seemed to laugh at some inside joke. 

“So… looking ahead, this seems to be a big year for you. What’s something each of you is really looking forward to this year?” 

Nick answered first. 

“Getting home for a bit after this.” 

“Sleeping,” Folio added. 

Jolly laughed. 

"European festivals. We’re playing in my home country for the first time this year,” he smiled. 

The interviewer turned to Noah. 

“What about you?” 

For a brief moment, his eyes found yours. A soft smile tugged at the corner of his mouth. 

“...A lot.” 

The interviewer seemed satisfied with the vague answer. 

“Sounds like it's going to be a good year.” 

“It will,” Noah said quietly. 

The interview wrapped up a few minutes later, the journalists thanking them before the camera switched off. 

Almost immediately, the door of the dressing room swung open. Someone from production stuck their head through the door. 

“Catering is up next door.” 

A chorus of appreciative hums spread through the room. 

“Finally,” Folio sighed, already halfway to the door. 

“I swear your internal clock revolves entirely around food,” Nick laughed. 

“It does!” 

The catering room was already full by the time you arrived. 

Crew members stood in line, holding paper plates in their hands. There were conversations from every direction. Someone discussed pyro cues, someone else was talking about their dog and laughter filled the room from every direction. You took another step forward, picking up a plate and froze. Row after row of sushi stretched across the entire table. Shit. 

“...Babe?” you whispered. 

“Hm?” 

“...I can’t eat sushi.” 

Noah looked at you, to the buffet, and then back to you again. 

“Fuck.” 

He slipped past you, leaning in for a better look.

“Okay… Okay. There must be something…” he mumbled, mostly to himself.

As the people ahead of Noah in line moved on, he stepped up to the buffet and began inspecting it with almost comical seriousness. He found… sushi. More sushi. And even more sushi. You watched his eyes flick towards the salad before drifting back to you. A tiny shake of his head told you exactly what he was thinking: not enough. 

For a brief moment you were almost certain that he was about to reach for his phone. Either to google if you could have a few pieces or to order takeaway to the arena. And then something caught his eye. At the very end of the buffet sat a foil tray with its lid still on. 

His shoulders dropped. Row after row of vegetarian sushi. He hadn’t even noticed the little handwritten sign. He let out a quiet breath. 

“We’re okay!” 

You had to bite the inside of your cheek not to laugh at the seven stages of grief that he had seemed to just go through in the span of a minute. 

The two of you found seats at one of the long tables. Around you, conversations flowed effortlessly. You had barely picked up your chopsticks when Jolly glanced at your plate with a small frown. 

“No spicy tuna?” 

You looked up. 

“Hm?” 

“I thought that was your favorite! There was a whole tray, how could you miss it?” he laughed. 

For a moment, it felt like the table had gone quiet. You glanced at Noah. He glanced at you. 

“...Uh,” you began. 

“She’s going through a weird avocado phase,” Nick spoke up. “I saw her eat an entire avocado for breakfast today.” 

You blinked. 

Jolly turned towards Nick. 

“What?” 

Nick shrugged, taking another bite. 

“I’ve seen weirder.” 

Jolly nodded as that was a good enough answer. 

“Fair enough.” 

The conversation around the table quickly drifted elsewhere. Beside you, Noah let out a breath he’d apparently been holding. You caught Nick’s eye across the table and mouthed a silent “thank you”. He simply gave you a small nod before returning to his food. 

Lunch gave way to soundcheck without further incidents. Stepping into an empty arena was a peculiar feeling. It felt eerily quiet without thousands of voices filling the seats. Every footstep echoed as you crossed the arena floor. Members of the crew moved around with purpose, checking lights and taping down cables. 

You settled in one of the empty seats halfway back in the arena. From here, the stage looked even bigger. Towering LED screens hung suspended from the ceiling in staggered rows. You thought they almost looked like the bows from a fleet of ships. Even powered off, they dominated the space. A wash of green spilled across the stage as the guys walked on, the floating triangles overhead glowed one by one. Even with the arena completely empty, the production was breathtaking. You looked around you, at row after row of empty seats. It was staggering to think that they would all be filled in a few hours. You felt so proud of the four boys on stage that your heart could burst. 

Noah stepped up to the microphone. 

“Check.” 

His voice echoed through the arena. 

“One.” 

“One, two.” 

He looked towards the sound booth halfway across the floor and pointed upwards. 

“A little more vocals in my in-ears?” 

“One, two… Yeah that's good. Thanks.” 

Folio adjusted his pedal before kicking his kick drum a few times. He got a thumbs up from front of house. 

“Snare… Yeah, good.” 

Jolly played a few chords, as did Nick. 

“Just Pretend from the second verse,” Noah said into his mic. They played the verse, then stopped. 

“Can we try that again with a little more guitar?” 

They played it again. Then they went into ARTIFICIAL SUICIDE. Someone adjusted the lights overhead. A burst of flames erupted near the edge of the stage. 

“...A little late,” Jolly called. 

“It was on the beat!” Folio argued immediately. 

“It wasn’t.” 

“It literally was.” 

Noah sighed and shook his head, but not without a small smile. 

“You two are unbelievable,” he said. 

The band played another minute before stopping once more. 

“Could I get a little less guitar?” Jolly asked. 

“Which one?” came a voice. 

“My own? I’d say bass guitar if I meant Nicks.” 

Noah looked out over the arena, spotted you and smiled. You waved enthusiastically. He grinned and waved back. 

Another adjustment. A few more short sections of a couple of songs. A few minor light adjustments. 

Then a voice could be heard from front of house. 

“Looks good, guys! We’re done.” 

Noah returned to the mic stand and put the microphone back. He bent down to grab a bottle of water, took a sip and then nodded at you. It was time. 

As you approached the small step of metal stairs leading up to the stage you heard Noah’s voice. 

“Jolly, Folio… Nick. Could I steal you guys for a minute?” 

Noah reached the bottom of the stairs before you. Without a word, he held out his hand. You looked at him with a smile. 

“I am perfectly capable of climbing stairs, you know.” 

“I know.” 

“...Then why are you looking at me like that?” 

“Because you’re carrying precious cargo.” 

You rolled your eyes so hard it almost hurt, but you took his hand nonetheless. He steadied you up the few steps and onto the stage. For a moment the two of you just stood there, looking at each other. 

Jolly frowned. 

“...What’s going on?” 

Noah looked at him, then at Folio who was still sitting behind the drums. 

“C’mere, will you?” 

The two of them looked at each other, then over to Nick. The corners of Nick’s mouth had already started to twitch. He leaned casually against the drum riser with something like relief washing over his face. 

Folio climbed down from behind the drum kit, hopping off the riser. Across the stage, Jolly slipped his guitar over his head and handed it to his guitar tech before making his way over. Nick stayed where he was, arms crossed over his chest, watching with a soft smile. 

The two men stood before you, confusion written all over their faces. Silence settled over the stage. For the first time all day, Noah looked genuinely nervous. He rubbed the back of his neck. He looked at you, then back at the others, before taking your hand in his. You gave it a little squeeze. 

“Do you want to tell them?” you asked. 

Folio immediately looked between the two of you. 

“...Tell us what?” 

“So… Uh…” 

He let out a nervous laugh. His eyes found yours for a moment before drifting back to Jolly and Folio. 

“We…”

“...There’s, uh…” 

He winced at himself. Opened his mouth and then closed it again. 

“Jesus,” he muttered. “I had this whole speech planned.” 

“...Speech?” Folio echoed. 

“Dude, you’re scaring me,” added Jolly.

Noah looked at you with a pleading look. You gave a small laugh before looking at Folio and Jolly. 

“We’re having a baby.” 

The two of them just looked at you.

Folio blinked once. Then again. 

“...What?”

You looked up at Noah, who was wearing the biggest smile. Pride radiated from him. Jolly’s mouth fell open, but no words came out. Folio just looked between you like he’d stopped understanding English. 

“I’m pregnant,” you smiled. 

“...Shut the fuck up.” Jolly breathed. 

“No way…” 

“You’re serious?” Jolly croaked. 

Noah nodded. 

“Yeah.” 

Folio seemed to be the first one to process what you first said. A grin spread across his face. Within two strides, he was in front of you, wrapping you in a tight hug. Before you had time to react, your feet had left the floor. 

“Folio!” you laughed. 

He spun you around, laughing just as hard.  

“HELL YEAH! YOU’RE HAVING A KID!” 

You were laughing so hard you could barely breathe. 

“Woah!” Noah laughed. “Easy with my pregnant girlfriend!” 

“Oh, right! Sorry!” Folio said as he carefully set you back down on the ground before pulling Noah into a hug instead. 

“Dude…” he laughed, shaking his head. “Congratulations.” 

Meanwhile, Jolly still hadn’t moved. 

He simply stood there with one hand covering his mouth, staring at you. And then, without a word, he crossed the stage. 

His hug was completely different. Gentle. Careful. As though you were made out of glass. 

“I’m so happy for you both,” he whispered. 

Jolly stepped over to Noah. For a second, the two of them just looked at each other. Then Jolly pulled him into a hug. A proper one. The kind of hug that lasted a little longer than any of them would later admit to. 

“Congratulations,” Jolly whispered, cradling the back of Noah's head. 

When they finally let go of each other, Jolly ducked his head with a quiet laugh. 

That’s when you saw it. A single tear trailing down his cheek. Noah saw it too, grin widening. 

“I knew Jolly was gonna cry.” 

“Shut up,” Jolly muttered, still smiling. 

Jolly looked over at Nick, who was grinning from ear to ear. 

“You knew?” 

Nick nodded. 

“For about two weeks, yeah.” 

“Nick knew before me, actually,” Noah said. 

Folio and Jolly looked at you. 

“What can I say?” you shrugged. “I didn’t want to tell Noah over the phone and I panicked.” 

You felt Nick’s arm against your shoulder. 

“Lucky for you, I’m the bestest friend in the whole world.” 

“Oh, don’t flatter yourself!” you snorted. 

“So…” said Folio. “How far along are you?” 

“We don’t even know for sure. I haven’t had my first appointment.” 

Noah's thumb brushed over the back of your hand. 

“But around five or six weeks,” he said. 

“Really early then?” Jolly asked. 

“Very.” 

“I just found out two days ago,” Noah smiled. 

Folio slowly exhaled. 

“...Jesus.” 

“You could say that, yeah.” 

Jolly frowned. 

“Does anyone else know?” 

“No,” you said, shaking your head. “I had only told Nick and Noah before you.” 

Noah looked between the three of them. 

“We wanted you guys to be the first to know.”

---

i can imagine this happening the second time he visits the club, after you first met him and find out who he was ofc. maybe you recognised the bands name and realised you knew some of their songs (tdopom, bad decions and what it cost were even on your work playlist 🤭) so you decides to tease him the next time you give him a private dance.

so he’s sitting there in the private room, and all of a sudden he starts to recognise the music that’s playing. you watched his reaction closely, and he tilted his head a little, his eyes narrowing for a moment before the realisation hit him. then a slow, surprised smirk tugged at his lips as he leaned back on the couch, arms spread across the backrest.

you wanna take, take, take.

you wanna break, break, break my heart…

“you little shit.” he chuckled.

you smiled sweetly, stepping between his spread thighs in your tiny red set.

and now i know my place,

i know just what you are

you turned, rolling your hips slowly and seductively to the rhythm of his own song. every sway of your hips, every arch of your back, every teasing glide of your hands down your curves was timed perfectly to the music. his music.

you glanced over your shoulder at him while you grinded down, your ass brushing against his lap.

“Besides, business proposals best done over dinner, no?”  Noah smirks, and you’re too enamored to process his words.  

“Alright... Wait- business proposals?” 

You don’t have any time to question him further before he’s practically dragging you towards a van where the other bandmates stand. They greet you with an energy that seems too high for it being almost midnight. Before you can process anything, you’re shoved into the backseat, sandwiched between Noah and Folio. Your heart hammers, questioning what the hell is happening and if you’re about to be murdered by the band you look up to the most.  

Noah nudges you out of your thoughts, clearly sensing your spiraling brain as the van drives off.  

“Relax. It’s just food, hm?” He says, barely above a whisper before looking back out the heavily tinted windows.  

You take a moment to observe your surroundings, a weak attempt at grounding yourself. Davis is driving, you recognize the silver strips of hair even as he faces away from you. Bryan is in the passenger seat, scrolling through tonight’s picture on his laptop. The bright screen lights up half the van. The band members, and you, are in the back. Folio taps his knees along to the drums of whatever’s playing on the aux, Jolly and Nick are scrolling through their phones, occasionally laughing quietly when something funny comes up. You know all these faces, and yet now it feels strange to be in a somewhat casual situation with them. If this was a dream, you didn’t want to wake up.  

The ride is quiet but smooth and after about 15 minutes, the van parks. Eeryone files out like a clown car into the parking lot a cheap fast-food place, probably the only thing open at this hour. You look up at the flickering red “24 hours” sign atop the small restaurant.  

“Business dinner, huh?” you tease. 

“Shut up. Tour life isn’t easy.” Noah snorts, smiling as he places a large hand on your shoulder and guides you towards the entrance. One by one you all order, and true to his word, Noah pays for everyone. After acquiring food and replenishing the energy today drained, Noah looks at you across the table. His face turns serious for the first time tonight.  

“So, I looked you up.” He starts, “Your boss had some high praises for you, even gave me your portfolio from college.” 

“I- wait what?” 

Noah doesn’t let you finish, continuing, “Your mixes sound amazing. You know your shit. And you know you’re way around a studio.” 

You try to speak, but he interrupts again. “Valedictorian too. That’s not an easy thing to do. Your instructors practically sang your praises over the phone.” 

“I’m confused. What- what's going on right now?” Your heart pounds as you look around at everyone in the booth. 

Davis interjects before Noah can interrogate you anymore, “Can you please stop scaring the poor girl and tell her? Before she has a heart attack.”  

Noah sighs dramatically, scanning your clearly nervous figure across from him. “We need an extra hand in the studios, and, with your experience in audio post, you could help with tour videos and music videos. You’re a good stagehand too.” 

“Wait, wait. You... wanna hire me?” You barely recognize your own voice as the blood thrums through your ears.  

Noah nods, and his eyes flicker down to meet your fidgeting, shaky hands. “You’re talented. You know this stuff, probably more than I did at your age. You have a good ear.” 

Your face burns from the praise. Even with your high education, you weren’t ready for this. Were you? “I-I’ve never even worked in a proper studio-” You try to argue. 

“There were studios in your school. You aced those classes.” He says with a smirk, and it makes you pause.  

“How...” You take a breath, head spinning. “Why do you know that?”  

Noah smiles, sitting up a little in the booth. “We did our research on you.” 

“In the, what, four hours since you’ve met me?” You argue, looking at him incredulously. 

“No. In the 6 weeks since the venue change.” Nick interjects you freeze, looking like a deer in headlights. They knew you before today? 

Jolly sighs next to him, deciding to take over. “We needed someone who could do lots of different things. Mixing, recording, live work, stuff like that. We visited your university before, a while ago. We knew that they were good. So, we asked around and found you. We also found out you worked at the venue we were going to, so it seemed like the perfect opportunity.”  

“To... recruit me?” You ask, swallowing thickly as everyone's eyes seem to be on you.  

Noah cuts back in, “You’re incredibly talented. And what you may lack in experience, you make up for in hard work. I know that this is sudden, but I also know that you can do this.” 

“Why me...? Why not someone more experienced, someone who lives in LA, someone who can do this better?”  

Noah holds on up one finger, “First of all, we’ll discuss the living thing in a minute.” Another finger, “Second, we wanted someone younger. Someone with a fresh perspective and fresh ears.”  

You take a breath, nodding along slowly. They’re serious about this...  

“and the living thing? I can’t exactly get a Los Angeles apartment right now. Not with this student debt.” You say.  

“Theres the tricky part.” He starts, “Two options. The first is that the label gets you an apartment and pays for it. The second, and better option... is that you live with us.” He says, nodding to Jolly. “You won’t pay rent, and you’d be more involved in production this way.”   

Your heart sinks. Living with them?! You couldn’t. However... this is probably the biggest job offer you’ll ever get. In your life. Are you really gonna do this? You have to. Right...? 

Theres a beat of silence as you think. Your professors’ constant lectures about missed opportunities ring in your head. You have to do this.  

“Okay. I’ll do it.” Your voice is shaky, but you know if you contemplate this for too long you’ll chicken out. Noah smiles and pulls an ipad out of his bag, the contract already written up on the screen.  

“Take as long as you need.” Nick says, his bright blue eyes meet yours. Light eyes and dark hair... that’s a lethal combination. You shake the thoughts away, taking the electronic pen and beginning to read. 

Your eyes scan every line, mentally recalling the classes that taught you about these kinds of contracts. Thankfully, nothing looks suspicious and jesus, the pay is good. Finally, after about 10 minutes of reading and signing, your pen hovers over the final signature line. You look up to see Noah’s gaze fixated on you. He’s not pushing or coercing, just watching your next move. Taking a breath, you sign and date the final page, turning the ipad back to him. He smiles, saving the document and shoving the device into his bag again. Everyone at the table claps, cheering at a respectful loudness as you officially join the crew. 

“Welcome to the team, Y/N.” Davis says, wrapping an arm around your shoulder. You laugh softly in disbelief, letting out a shaky breath.  

Across the table, Noah smiles at you with a softness that makes your heart clench, and you can’t help but return the gesture. 

Noah stands first, ever the leader as the rest of the guys follow. “You need rest. Let’s get you back to your car so you can get home. We’ll be in town for a few days to help you prepare. I’ll text you the flight information.”  

The ride back to the venue is quiet, everyone tired now that they’re fed and the adrenaline has worn off. You however, are wired, nerves alight and heart pounding. They drop you off at your car, and Noah goes over last few things before parting ways. Something about packing essentials and a guest room. You can barely register anything as his hair halos around his head from the parking lot’s lights. This was going to be hard.  

divider 

The next three days are a blur of packing, phone calls, and mental preparation. You recall Noah saying that his guest room was already set up, and that all I needed was essentials and any gear. Somehow you manage to fit it all in two suitcases and a carry-on. Luckily, your roommate agreed to take on the full lease of your small apartment, so that was handled. Noah helped you arrange to get your car shipped across the country, which was easier than you expected. After a grueling three days, you’re loading your luggage into the same van as before. Well, more like watching them load it. You watch anxiously as the tow truck hauls your brand-new car, a graduation present, onto its bed. Thankfully, nothing goes awry.  

The ride to the airport is fast, and once you’re there, the guys practically refuse to let you carry any of your luggage, so you walk through the terminal with just your computer bag as everyone else lugs around large suitcases. Check-in goes smoothly and security is fast. Before you know it, you’re boarding the plane to your new life. It’s nothing fancy, a nice commercial flight in business seating. The plane is almost empty, and still, Noah sits next to you, his warm thigh brushing yours for a fleeting moment. He doesn’t say much, throwing on his headphones and openin his computer once you get to altitude. 

The flight is long, and your hips and legs ache by the final hour. When you step out into the gate, the familiar sight of LAX greets you. You’d been to California before, but this was different. You live here now. And whether you like it or not, you didn’t exactly have a means of escape.  

Once again, you’re back in a van. Except now, it’s only with Jolly and Noah. The Nicks went their separate ways after the flight, to their respective homes. By the time you reach the house, your head hurts from jetlag and your eyes are heavy with impending sleep. The driver parks, and the three of you make your way out. Still not carrying any luggage, thanks to Noah, you stare at the large house in front of you. It's nothing crazy, not grossly modern or insanely expensive, just a nice sized family house.  

The guys carry the luggage inside, and your heart stops once you take a look around. The walls are immediately familiar. The staircase, the living room, even the stupid custom painting above them the stairs. They still live here? It feels nostalgic in a way, having seen this house plenty of times from streams and posts before Noah ghosted the world.  

“C’mon. I’ll show you to your room.” Noah’s voice snaps you out of your haze, a gentle hand on your back guiding you towards the stairs. As you make your way up, you’re hyper aware of Noah’s presence.  

“Orie moved out a little while ago, the master’s all yours.” He opens the door, showing off the nice sized master bedroom.  

Your eyebrows raise, “The master? Are you sure?”  

“Yeah. We’ve all got our own setups in our rooms that we’re too lazy to move. Besides, it's got an en suite, so you get more privacy.” Noah's voice is quieter now, clearly tired and coming down from an exciting tour. “Make yourself at home, take a nap if you need to. I know I need one. Don’t worry about work right now. We’ll talk about that stuff later.” 

You nod, “Thank you. For everything... I really appreciate you trusting me with this.”  

“Don’t thank me. You deserve it.” Noah’s words don’t make it easy to hide your infatuation. You cheeks are flushed before you can stop it. Noah just smiles and dips out of the room, leaving you alone. The room smelt like clean laundry, and when you sat down on the bed, you knew you were a goner. The jetlag had caught up to you, and before you can stop yourself, you’re passing out on the plush king-sized bed.  

Divider   

You wake up a few hours later to a soft thrumming at the door. Your brain takes a moment to orient itself in the unfamiliar surroundings of your new room. You pinch yourself awake, blinking hard just in case you were still dreaming. But no, this was real. You were here.  

Noah’s voice pulls you out of your own thoughts, “Y/N? You awake? We’re ordering some pizza for dinner if you want some.” 

“Coming!” You say, fixing your twisted hoodie and sweatpants that had climbed up to your knees in your sleep. You smooth down your hair in the mirror and do one last look over before opening one of the double doors.  

You have to physically stop your knees from giving out at the sight in front of you. Noah's slightly grown out hair is messy from sleep, standing in a couple different directions. He’s in just a thin wife beater and sweatpants, his tattoos on full display. As well as his arms that you swear have gotten bigger since you last saw him just a few hours ago.  

“You with me? You must’ve slept pretty hard.” Noah chuckles, breaking your still sleepy haze as you admire him. He doesn’t pry when you blush slightly, simply motioning to the stairs. You follow him a few paces behind as he shows you around.  

“The studios through there, feel free to go in whenever you want.” You peak into the room, quickly glancing at the array of instruments and gear. You’re not terribly interested in working at the moment, running on an empty stomach and incoming jet lag headache.  

Noah guides you around the rest of the downstairs, showing you where things are in the kitchen and going through regular routines. “I usually wake up early. I like to go running before everyone gets up.” He says, pouring you and himself some water. “We typically have a few weeks after tours before we start officially working on things. But it’s hard for me to stay stagnant for too long.” He says sheepishly, you nod along silently. 

“Your work will start more once the production period starts again in a few weeks. We’re still working through the tail end of the album, so you’ll have plenty of work.” 

You nod wordlessly; hands folded politely behind you.  

“So, for now just uhm, get settled, learn the area and whatnot. Your car should be here in two days, so then you can go out whenever. In the meantime, you can join me in the studio if you want, or do some freelance, whatever.”  

Once again, you nod, smiling at the idea of working with him.  

Noah laughs softly, “I guess they weren’t lying when they said you were quiet when you’re not working.”  

Your cheeks flush, realizing you haven’t said anything since you came downstairs. “Sorry, heh.”  

“Don’t be. It's much better than someone asking a million questions and screaming in my face.” He teases, smiling.  

Jolly and Michael come downstairs at the same time, talking about the pizzas they want and how many drinks to get.  

Jolly looks up from his phone, nodding to you with a gentle smile, “Look who’s finally awake! This is Michael; he helps with songwriting and producing. Michael, this is our newest engineer and tour hand, Y/n.”  

“It's nice to meet you.” You say, shaking his hand. Your heart flutters as he introduces you, pride bubbling inside at the titles. 

Once introductions are out of the way, everyone’s focus shifts towards the pizza about to be ordered, arguing about which place to order fromm how many to get, and who’s gonna pick it up. You step back and Noah catches the movement, worried. You motion towards the hallway leading to the studio. He nods wordlessly, smiling.  

Escaping from the chaos, you wander into the bedroom studio setup. Everything quiets, the acoustic panels doing their job. You look around at everything. It's nothing crazy or out of this world, just a nice studio built up over the years into something that worked for them. You run a finger along one of the guitars in the corner, the matte black finish catching your eye. Turning, you sit down in a comfortable desk chair. On the desk, there are a few nice interfaces, a monitor controller, an array of microphones, and a desktop computer. A few guitar amps sit under the desk to save space. You smile to yourself when you can easily name everything. Even after all that training, you still sometimes worry it’s not enough. And in a way its not, experience and time are the real teachers. Still, there's a sense of accomplishment as you fiddle with the midi keyboard to the side.  

“What do you think?” Once again, Noah startles you out of your skin, making you clutch your chest. He only laughs, stepping closer.   “I feel like you’re doing it on person now.” You tease, spinning the chair around to face him. He laughs, leaning against the doorway with one arm.  

Dear God, that smile. 

“We’ll have you in the big studios in a few weeks. I think you’ll like them.” Your chest flutters at the idea of finally being in a proper, real studio.  

“I think I will too. It’s been a while since I’ve been in one.”  

“Don’t worry, we’re not gonna just throw you into the fire. You can just sit and watch the first few days if you want, get an idea of our workflow.” He assures.  

“That sounds good. You guys primarily use Logic for production right?” You ask, 

“Yeah. The songs don’t usually don’t go to Pro tools until the final stages. You know Pro tools?”  

“Really well actually. It’s usually my go-to for editing and mixing.” You smile proudly.  

“That’s good. I can’t wrap my head around it most of the time. I guess we found another job for you.” He smiles, “I’m gonna send you some demos to mix later, I wanna see what you think and how you work. Don’t go easy on me, I want honesty.” 

You smile at that, sitting up straighter. You always loved mixing other’s music rather than making your own. He clearly notices your excitement, grabbing a spare chair and motioning for you to sit so he could use the computer. After swapping places, he loads up a few different projects, trying to decide which to show you. 

“This one's a bit more relaxed, more melodic.” He says and presses the space bar. A rolling, hypnotic guitar riff fills the room through the monitors.  

As the song goes on, you mentally take note of a few things. You have to close your eyes to avoid staring at his broad shoulders as he turns away from you.  

The song ends and he turns around, “So?”  

“Its good!” You praise, but he gives you a look. One that says, “be honest.” You sigh, chewing your lip. “I think the uhm, backgrounds feel lost. They should come up a little. And the guitars tracks sort of sound like they’re fighting each other...”  

He smiles at that, nodding. His voice drops a little, “That's what I want. Good.” He turns back to the computer.  

Your breath hitches at his words, and you have to squeeze your thighs to stop yourself from reacting. Noah continues to show you songs, new and old. It’s fun to see the inner workings of all the songs as he explains his processes and the stories behind them.  

The doorbell rudely interrupts your time, and you hear the rest of the guys’ voices fill the house. Noah closes the projects and you follow him out to the living room, seeing Nick, Folio, and Davis holding pizzas. Davis sets them down and pulls you into a hug; he smells woodsy and faintly of cigarettes.  

Everyone settles around the living room and enjoys the pizza. Laughter fills the house and for the first time in a couple days, you feel yourself relax. Conversation is easy and you find yourself engaging more than usual. Even after only having met a few days ago, you feel like you’ve known everyone for years. You could get used to this.  

Noah seems to notice your more social behavior. Your eyes meet and he smiles at you from across the room. You return the smile, but not without a heavy pink dusting on your cheeks. You expect him to look away first, but he holds your gaze until it’s too much for you. You look away, laughing softly.  

The night goes on for a while. A few of the guy's drink, Noah declines like usual. Davis offers you but you decline as well. You don’t typically drink unless it's around the holidays or if you’re really in the mood. You and Nick end up chatting for a while about cats and random shit, and the whole time you feel Noah’s gaze on you. Even Nick seems to give him a look at one point, which makes you laugh.  

The night ends around 1am, the guys that haven’t sobered up crash on the couch. Davis drives home, having only had one beer hours ago. You and Jolly put away the leftover pizza, playing tetris as you try to arrange the boxes in the fridge. Once everything's cleaned up, you say goodnight to everyone and head upstairs.  

This time, you hear Noah’s footsteps behind you on the stairs. You reach your door and turn around, meeting his eyes. “Everything alright?” You ask with a tinge of sarcasm when he doesn’t continue to his own room.  

“Yeah, I just uh- was wondering if you wanted to chat for a little while. Unless you’re tired.” He rubs the back of his neck, his arms flexing briefly.  

Dear god.  

“Uhm, yeah. Sure. I’m not super tired right now.” He smiles at that, nodding his head for you to follow him.  

He guides you into his room, and wow, it looks the same as it did 5 years ago. Same bed, same framed posters. You peak at his desk setup, two monitors and a nice pc behind it. The webcam and mic are still there, but the webcam is facing a different way, and the mic is tucked to the side. It makes you a little sad, knowing he had to stop streaming when things go too big. You weren’t a fan back then, still going through school online during covid and not into metal music yet. But still, you watched old archives on occasion when you needed a pick me up.  

He pulls out the red gaming chair for you, moving to sit on his bed. “So, how are you doing?” His voice is gentle, almost hesitant.  

“Honestly, better than I expected. I’m glad I get along with everyone.” You say, sitting down in the chair. You look around again, noting the small rack of jewelry and sunglasses behind the door.  

“I’m glad. And I knew you would fit in well. Told you we don’t bite.”  

You look down shyly at that, smiling to yourself.  

You two end up talking for longer than you expected, sharing life stories and stupid work moments. He tells you about his ghost writing and tour stories; you return with stories about all the bands and comic you worked for at the old venue. It’s nearly 3am when you finally begin to nod off in his chair. He chuckles softly, 

“C’mon, let's get you to bed.”  

He walks you to your room, and the two of you pause at your door. 

“Thanks, by the way. For tonight. I usually have trouble sleeping. And talking helps me wind down.” He says, his voice barely above a whisper to not disturb the others.  

You smile tiredly, nodding in understanding.  

The conversation ends but neither of you move. Theres a thick tension in growing in the air. Noah takes a step closer, invading your personal space. Your breath hitches as he stares at you. He leans down a little, cocking his head to the side. Your heart races, and your hands come up to his firm chest.  

You swallow thickly, “Noah... I-”  

“Hmm?” He places a hand over yours, his long, nimble fingers caressing yours.  

He leans in further, and this time you lean in as well. Your breaths mingle as you inch closer and closer. You can’t find it in your brain to pull away. You know this isn’t smart; this could make you lose the dream job you just got. But at the same time, you can’t bring yourself to stop. You want this. You’ve wanted this.  

Your faces are millimeters away, both your eyes closed now. You can feel his warm breath on your lips, you can feel the heat radiating from his chest. His heartbeat thrums rapidly under your fingertips.  

Your lips are just about to meet when you hear a shuffle and a groan from downstairs, then footsteps. You heart drops, and it snaps both of you out of your shared trance, your eyes are wide as they meet his own apologetic ones. He looks like he’s about to say something, but you don’t give him enough time to speak. You open your door and retreat into your room.  

End.

Tag List: @novainpolaroids @lowergroundfloor @heavilyfadingpower

Music was your entire life. You’re childhood was spent around instruments and constant car radios blaring. Your adolescence was filled with headphones blasting and various concerts. When you got out of high school, the idea of a boring 9-5 desk job seemed like the worst possible outcome. Music was the only option. After two years in college for sound engineering; sleepless nights, long lectures, and even longer studio labs, you had finally done it. The life started small. Small venues, small jobs, small projects. After years spent working your way up, you finally settled into a job as an assistant front of house engineer for a nice venue in your city.  

The job was nice, good music most nights, comedy others. You had built a nice home for yourself in this life, having successfully escaped the dread of a desk job. The creative side of music had never quite been your specialty. Sure, you played instruments and occasionally made beats, but this? Engineering for other people and making it sound good? This was your bread and butter. Now, in the well sized venue, you’re engrossed in setting up the console when––  

“Y/N! Get your ass over here and fix this cable!" Right. That was the only downside, bossy, sweaty old men who think they know more than you just because they’re... men. Sighing, you jog upstage to solve whatever problem you didn’t cause. Today, they had been more prickly than usual. Rushing you around to make sure everything was perfect the like pope himself was performing tomorrow night.  

“Why are you guys being more bitchy than usual? You won’t even tell me who were setting up for!” You said, crouched under the stage to see the faulty speaker cable. You had learned quickly that the only way to fight the fire was with more fire. They would have eaten you alive if you hadn’t learned to fight back and stand up for yourself. 

“Because, you’re gonna freak out about it and never shut up. The less you know the better.” One of them answers, snarky and rude. What could be so important that it needed so much preparation and so much condescension? This wasn’t the biggest venue ever, if it was someone so special they would’ve chosen a different venue for sure. You solve the mystery of the cable, tuning out the snarkiness of your coworkers as they chide you about the various problems in the set up (which they caused). 

It's close to midnight by the time you’re finally cut free, sighing into the cool night air as you walk to your car. The drive home is quiet and tiresome, and the relief of finally being in your bed washes over you like a soft wave at the beach. You’re brain is still in work mode despite the nearly 12 hour day. Rolling over sleeplessly, you check your phone with heavy eyes, scrolling mindlessly until something makes your heart drop.  

No... Theres no way. Plastered across your screen is an announcement from Bad Omens, your favorite band.  

“VENUE CHANGE NOTICE.”  

Right under, the name of the venue you slave over every day. There’s no way. You read the announcement repeatedly, truly wondering if you were dreaming. Something about the previous venue being unusable due to weather and up sales. This announcement was from weeks ago, how did you not know? You must have been too busy to notice.  

“This can’t be happening...” You mumble to yourself, heart racing. Your favorite band, performing at the venue you work at, while you’re working. This was going to be the ultimate test of professionalism. You decide to try and rest as much as possible. Naturally, sleep doesn’t come easily, your mind whirling, but you already know you’ve got a long day ahead of you.  

The next morning, you take extra care to prepare yourself, sacrificing extra sleep for a longer shower and a bigger breakfast. You practically sprint out of the house, making it to work in record time. When you arrive, way too early, there are buses and trucks already parked at the back entrance. Your heart rate immediately spikes, realization setting in. You couldn’t do this. You weren’t prepared for this. You never thought–– 

 Before you can spiral too far, a friendly knock on your car window makes you jump out of your skin. Jenna, one of the venue's receptionists, and one of the only women you work with, is staring apologetically through the glass. You muster the courage to move, grabbing your bag and getting out to greet her.  

“So... I take it you finally found out why we weren’t telling you about today.” Jenna sighs, looking slightly guilty. 

You nod, trying not to look as frazzled as you are about this whole thing. “I wish you would have told me something, at least! So I could have prepared myself mentally, or something!” 

“Yeah... but we didn’t want you to overthink and get too caught up in it. You do amazing work and we wanted that to stay the same, no matter who’s performing.” She smiles. 

“Still! A warning would’ve been nice! Can’t believe you teamed up with those assholes...” You sigh, but there's no real malice in your voice. 

Jenna only laughs softly at your exasperated tone, ushering you towards the main entrance. Your heart is beating out of your chest, eyes watching every corner. Eventually, you and Jenna go your separate ways, she waves you on encouragingly. 

“You’re gonna do great!” She yells from a few feet away, already turning to leave.  

You take a breath, nodding to yourself. It can’t be that bad, right? All you have to do is make sure they sound good and then you can go home. You got this. After gathering yourself, you walk into the large empty hall. No sign of the band yet, that’s good.  

Chris, one of the lighting techs, is jogging up to you with a shit-eating grin on his face, “Y/N! You’re on stagehand duty today. Bands already got front of house and are short a hand. Perfect opportunity.” Okay. Maybe things could get worse.  

You contemplate walking out then and there. Front of house meant distance and brief conversations, stagehand meant... the opposite. Always checking in, always on stage during set up, close proximity. Taking a deep breath, you trying to still yourself, you learned how to be professional around celebrities, this couldn’t be that hard, right...? 

The first few hours of setup are easy. Checking mic packs, setting up wireless mics, and having everything laid out and ready. You meet with the band’s stage manager, a nice woman. She explains things swiftly and without the disrespect of others you’ve met. Soon enough, everything looks great. The drums are hooked up with microphones, one of your favorite activities, guitars are tuned, and everything is ready for soundcheck.  

You know this is it, the moment you have to see them in person, up close. Part of you worries they’re not like what they seem, what if they’re rude, bratty? It wouldn’t be the first time you’ve had to deal with something like that...  

Kate, one of the tour managers, nudges you gently.  

“Fan? You’re shaking like a leaf.” She says gently, a soft smile on her face. “Don’t worry, they won’t bite.” You don’t have time to answer with anything other than a shy smile before the crew starts bustling.  

Your eyes snap to the stage faster than lightning, seeing four tall frame file out onto their respective sides of the stage. Folio checks the drum’s setup and tuning, fitting the drummer stereotype well as the kick drums thumps through the empty venue. Jolly and Nicholas strap up their guitars to soundcheck whenever Folios done doing his thing. You can barely focus on them, your eyes trained on the 6’3 frontman standing center stage. Even a few yards away, you can see him clearer than ever before. Your heart races,  

The band starts soundcheck minutes later, and within a few seconds Noah stops, apologizing as he fiddles with his in-ear monitors. Like muscle memory, you jog to side stage, watching him intently to see if it’s something he can fix himself. You freeze when dark brown eyes meet yours, but you quickly shake it off, trying to do your job. He motions you over, 

“They won’t stop popping and buzzing.” Noah mutters, eyes trained on your flushed face as you approach.  

“Could be wiring issue, let me see them?” You mutter, shaky hands outreached to grab the pack. He’s taller in person, you think, and jesus, his hands are huge compared to yours.  

You study it for a few seconds with a worried expression. If this was a soldering issue, it would take a few minutes for you to fix it.  

“Oh. Heh.” You try not to smile, lips pursed as you realize one of the cables wasn’t plugged in all the way. You look back up at him, eyes meeting his deep brown ones. “It just wasn’t in there correctly...” 

Noah laughs softly, and the sound almost makes your spine melt. “Shit, always the little things. Thank you, uhm...?” He proposes, eyebrows raised. 

“Y/N. Stagehand, for today.” You try not to blush as he repeats the name, familiarizing it on his tongue.  

“Can you...?” He asks, his voice surprisingly soft as he motions to clip on the back of his waistband.  

You nod curtly, stepping into his personal space. His scent floods you, fresh and musky. Theres a slight hint of leather, probably from the bus. You try not to think too hard about it as your shaky hands fasten the pack onto his waistband. Your knuckles graze his lower back briefly, the soft contact making you swallow thickly. Once its secured, you step back. He thanks you and you smile curtly before stepping off stage again to let them continue.  

Soundcheck goes... almost smooth after that. One of the drum mics wasn’t working, the solder points old and falling apart. You’d have to fix that tomorrow. Jolly’s microphone was dead, a fault on the band’s team for not replacing the batteries. Overall it wasn’t terrible, that’s what soundchecks are for. Soon enough, all that's left is to wait until showtime. You expect Noah to follow the rest of the band backstage, but he lingers, eyes set on you as you watch their front of house with undivided attention. Noah walks up, his tall frame looming behind you has he watches you ask the poor engineer a million questions about the setup.  

“You seem pretty passionate about this stuff.” He says, voice smooth and teasing as you nearly jump out of your skin, turning to face him. 

“Oh! Uhm- yeah. I like engineering. I like music in general.” You stutter, looking up at his tall frame as he smiles.  

“You know your stuff, that's for sure.” Noah comments, “The guys around here said you practically run this place.” He adds, sitting down on one of the chairs to not tower over you so much.  

“I’m not sure I’d say that...” you mutter, internally making a note to interrogate the others after this. Theres a beat of silence, as he studies you, his eyes catching the ink that peaks out of your long sleeve.  

“Nice tattoo, by the way.” He smirks, motioning to the small inked Bad Omens logo poking out from under your sleeve.  

You quickly shove the sleeve down, blushing profusely. You’re about to make some sorry excuse or apologize when he cuts in again.  

“Don’t worry. I’m not making fun of you. It’s nice to find fans in the wild like this. Especially when they’re talented.”  

Was he... complimenting you?  

Before the conversation can carry on any longer, hair and makeup are whisking him away backstage. He smiles at you once more before jogging away. You let out a breath, slumping down on the seat he was in. You run your hands along your face, sighing. That was embarrassing. This is somehow the best and worst day ever.  

Hours later, the venue is packed with bodies as the crowd murmur grows louder. Crew members run around backstage, doing final checks before the show starts. You’re sitting side stage tucked away, on standby in case there's technical difficulties during the show. Your knee bounces, teeth chewing at your bottom lip. Stage hand work was one of your favorites, at least during the show you could relax unless something goes wrong. Still, you miss being behind the console. You’d have to find some time in a studio soon. 

 The house lights dim, the crowd going wild as the opening music plays. Noah runs up to the stairs right next to you, adrenaline clearly climbing as he psyches himself up for the show. Before he runs on stage, he turns to give you a big smile and a small wave. It makes your heart beat out of your chest, and you instinctively return the gesture. Before you can blink, he’s on stage, commanding the crowd like always. The cheers are louder than you’ve ever heard them here.  

Throughout the show, you peak around the curtain to watch, giving yourself the excuse of making sure nothing goes wrong. You watch as he screams into the mic, vocals on point like always. Folio is smashing the drums, perfectly on time. Jolly and Nicholas play like they never have before; the guitars blending together in a perfect mix. You heart aches for a moment, will you ever see them again? You tried to get tickets to this tour, and the one before that, but they were either too expensive or sold out in minutes. Would this be a once in a lifetime thing? You shake the thoughts off, forcing yourself to smile as you enjoy the moment while it lasts.  

After the show, Noah comes out first, sweaty and practically bouncing off the walls with energy. He smiles at you, eyes meeting yours for a moment. He seems to contemplate something before he sits down next to you, heat radiates off him.  

“So, what’d you think?” He cocks his head, sharp brown eyes boring into yours. Is this real? Why was he so determined to talk to you? Not like you’re complaining.  

“You guys did great. Always nice to get paid to watch concerts.” You joke. You’re not usually a talker, keeping to yourself outside of work. But something about him makes it easier, a little to easy.  

You two talk for a while as the venue slowly empties, sharing soft smiles, and quiet laughs as you tell him more about your work.  

When the fans finally funnel out, you and the rest of the crew strike. It doesn’t take nearly as long as setup. Within an hour, everything is in gear cases and loaded onto the truck. You don’t see Noah as you help the crew close the truck. They thank you graciously before returning to their own duties.  

Just like that, it’s over. You sigh, pulling out a cigarette when you’re an appropriate distance from everybody. A few crew members linger outside, chatting about future tour dates and time off. Noah and the band are still nowhere to be seen. It’s nearly midnight. You light the cigarette, taking a deep drag and sighing in relief. Your feet ache and your back is screaming for rest, but you wouldn’t have it any other way. As you catch up with the past day’s notifications on your phone, you nearly jump out of your skin (again) when a light tap meets your shoulder. You whip around, only to meet the same eyes you’ve been getting lost in all day.  

“Noah...!” You sigh, clutching your chest. “You need a bell.” You say, teasing.  

“Yeah, I get that a lot.” He smiles. His hair is damp, freshly showered, and he smells like clean laundry. “You did good today. It's nice to see someone younger in this field rather than a bunch of old dudes.” He says, smiling down at you.  

“Oh. Thank you...” You mutter, getting a good look at him. His neck tattoos glisten as the slight dampness of his skin reflects against the outside lights. The newer, more vibrant tattoos stand out from the old ones. From this close, you can see the small scars on his face from old piercings. His stubble from before is now clean shaven. You suck in a breath, forcing yourself to look away before you stare at him for too long. 

“You off the clock?” He asks, attention fixed on you. 

“Yeah. Now I just have to find a way to get home in this traffic. I’ve never seen these many cars here.” He snorts at that, looking a little too proud of himself. It makes you smile, heart fluttering despite trying hard to keep your infatuation under wraps.  

“I may have a solution for that...” He begins, looking past you as the crew socialize with one another.   

“Hm?” You brows furrow, a solution? You cock your head to the side, curious eyes meeting his and you swear you see him blush in the dim light.  

“The band and some crew are going out for a late dinner to celebrate the end of the tour. I wanted to invite you, a thanks for your help today” He says, his voice slightly... shy?  

“Me? I-” You laugh softly in disbelief. He wants you to join them?! “I just did my job, which honestly wasn’t much. I wouldn’t want to Intrude.” You argue as politely as possible, but part of you definitely wants to come. Noah only shakes his head, and you know there's no saying no now. He motions you forward towards the band’s van. 

“Our treat, I insist.” He assures, “Besides, business proposals best done over dinner, no?” He smirks, and you’re too enamored to process his words.  

“Alright... Wait- business proposals?”  

End. 

I hope you guys enjoy! I've wanted to write this for so long but forgive me I haven't written fic in like 10 years. My asks should be open if you wanna chat about anything regarding this fic or not <3