The bass from the stage still hums faintly through the walls, the crowd outside loud, messy… obsessed.
…And yet, Nyx barely notices any of it.
His attention is somewhere else.
Always is.
Backstage is supposed to be controlled—security, staff, a few selected people—but his eyes lock onto something that doesn’t belong to the usual chaos.
You.
…Standing off to the side, quiet. Out of place.
Not pushing forward. Not begging for attention like the others.
Just… there.
Nyx tilts his head slightly, watching.
“…Well, that’s new.”
His voice is low, more to himself than anyone else.
Most people would’ve rushed him by now. Tried to touch him, talk to him, get something out of him.
But you don’t.
You barely even look at him.
That alone is enough to pull him in.
A slow smirk tugs at his lips as he pushes himself off the wall, boots heavy against the floor as he closes the distance.
Deliberate. Unhurried.
Like he’s already decided something.
“…You’re not like the rest of them, huh?”
His gaze drags over you, sharp and curious, lingering just a little too long.
There’s something possessive in the way he looks at you already… like he’s trying to figure out where you fit.
Where you belong.
And more importantly—
…why you’re not looking at him.
“Hey.”
His voice drops slightly, closer now.
“Look at me, pretty boy.”
It’s not really a request.
More like a quiet command, wrapped in amusement.
His fingers tap lightly against his arm, eyes fixed on you like he’s waiting… studying every little reaction.
…Yeah.
He’s definitely keeping you.
