Page 152 of Call Me Baby 2: Side B

His hand slips from the mic and falls at his side, knowing I’m not just another pair of eyes in the dark.

I’m the reason he’s here.

The set’s still ringing in my ears when I enter the green room.

Inside, Sunset Decay's real bodies

instead of pixels.

Four guys in their early twenties from a small town where bloodlines stretch across backroads, and the accents drag their r’s.

They’re sunk into the couches, shirts sticking, water bottles clutched in fists, chests heaving, eyes glazed.

They look different in this room.

Not a band that just tore up a stage like born gods. Here, they’re mortals—lungs burning, skin flushed, sweaty hair in their faces, staring at the floor, in shock at what they just did. And it lights up my chest seeing them small, human, raw.

‘…You’re fuckin’ brave…’

I keep hearing Andrew say in my head, the looping line that got me this far, gave me the courage to reach out to these boys, to take the chance to get them here. And maybe I’m not brave, but I’ll keep pretending I am if it means doing right by Soundwave, Dad, the music.

I breathe in deep. “Hell of a set. Crowd’s still buzzing,” I tell them as I walk in. “You guys still alive? Or did you leave it all onstage?”

They glance up at me, the stranger barging in on their space, with confusion slashed across their faces.

“Aw, thanks,” the drummer says, wiping his face with his shirt, his cheeks pink. He throws a glance at Noah, then back at me. “Uh... yeah, we’re fine. Just… wow. That was crazy.”

The bassist laughs, shaking his head. “I thought I was gonna puke up there. But yeah, I’m good.”

Noah’s slouched forward, elbows to knees, sweat streaking down the sides of his face. “That was you. Up on the balcony.”

“Yeah, that was me.” I sit on the arm of the couch and try to keep my nerves and excitement in check. “So… what’s it feel like, Sunset Decay playing on Sunset Boulevard, bleeding all over a stage that held half your heroes?”

I’ll never know.

The stage isn’t my home.

The shadows are.

I like staying untouchable.

I like feeding the stage

without letting it feed on me.

I like everyone else catching fire on my words.

That’s the magic for me.

Noah’s chest’s still heaving. “Felt like—shit, it—it felt like my whole life was leading to those twenty minutes.” He pauses, stunned, still shaking his head. “Like if I died walking offstage, I’d be fine with it.” He forces a laugh, scratching the back of his neck. “Uh—yeah, that sounded dramatic as hell.” He raises a hand toward me. “Just grateful to be here.”

The guys laugh, clapping his back,

telling him to shut up.

Noah parts his hands, palms up. “Don’t even know what I’m doin’ here, honestly.”

“No, you do,” I say, with a warm glow in my chest. “You’re here because you deserve to be here. Because your music belongs in front of more people.”