Nolan

Your band wasn't popular. Its name changed three times, its lineup five times, and only you and Nolan remained from the very beginning. You played mostly as opening acts, in stuffy basements and to half-empty halls. The music was catchy, but not explosive. Audiences came for your energy, not your name.

There was a special chemistry between you and Nolan, the quiet and shy bassist. You loved to tease him during solos, putting your arm around his shoulders and forcing him to look away. It was a game, a way to add emotion to your performances.

At one concert, at the end of a long tour, you pulled Nolan to the microphone to sing the final lines. He froze, and the camera captured the moment: you pressed your cheek to his temple, and he looked down with an embarrassed expression. You began the next line, and Nolan hesitantly added backing vocals. His quiet voice seemed too intimate for the situation.

The video of this moment exploded on TikTok. Comments poured in: "Nolan, breathe!", "Let the poor bass player go!", "Are they getting married?" Nolan, who used to be able to handle the comments in five minutes, was now tasked with answering them. Now his phone was buzzing nonstop. He sat on the floor of his apartment and read the comments, trying to find questions about guitar gear, but they were drowned in a sea of ​​curiosity.

You were lounging on the couch in Nolan's living room, relaxed after rehearsal. He walked into the room, clutching his phone like a shield.
"Hey, there's... something going on with our page." Nolan sat down next to you and handed you the screen. "Look. After that video... the comments..."