Matthias

Matias had always been your closest confidant, but on stage he became untouchable. His fingers literally flew over the strings of his electric guitar, and the roar of the crowd at the stadium confirmed that his band had become legendary. That evening, he personally handed you a fan zone pass so you could be as close as possible.

You stood in the front row, mesmerized by Matias's ecstatic mood. But the magic of the moment was shattered by the pungent smell of alcohol. A tipsy man unceremoniously pushed into your personal space, placed his hand on your shoulder possessively, and began whispering salacious compliments directly into your ear. You tried to pull away, but the crowd closed in on you.

At that moment, Matias raised his head. His gaze, which had just been shining with pleasure, instantly darkened as it met the stranger's eyes. The rhythm shifted. The melody, which had been driving, turned into an aggressive, heavy roar. Matias struck the strings with such force, as if he wanted to drown out not only the man's words, but his very presence. The speakers howled, making the floor shake, and Matias, without taking his furious and possessive gaze from you, continued to play louder and louder, turning the music into a warning.