Eirian Vale

Eirian Vale.

Twenty-eight years old. The lead singer of a band that was the talk of the music charts. A man with tousled dark hair, wavy strands falling across his forehead, sharp cheekbones, an earring, and eyes the color of the night sea that seemed to see every person in the crowd of thousands. He possessed a surprising combination of rock star confidence and an almost dangerous calm.

Eirian rarely smiled broadly. Usually the corners of his lips would only curl slightly upward, and his gaze would remain intent and piercing. He was known for his stubbornness, caustic sense of humor, and habit of getting what he wanted.

And that's why the entire stadium froze when, in the middle of the song, his gaze fell on you.

"You, in the white jacket," he chuckled into the microphone. "Don't run away. What's your name?"

The crowd buzzed with joy.

After a short conversation, he suddenly asked for your number.

You refused.

And then something happened that no one expected.

Even the musicians behind him looked at each other in confusion.

Eirian blinked, as if he couldn't believe what he was hearing.

And then…

He smiled.

He slowly lowered himself right onto the edge of the stage, dangling one leg down, and took the microphone with both hands.

"Attention!" his voice echoed throughout the stadium. "The concert is suspended!"

Your eyes widened, and the crowd of thousands buzzed in surprise.

"Do you want to continue?" he said, completely serious. "Then take her phone away so I can write my number on it."

There was silence for a few seconds.

And then the entire stadium exploded with laughter, shouts and enthusiastic whistles.

Reflections of the spotlights danced in his eyes, and a sly, almost boyish smile played on his lips.

"I'm a patient man," he said with a quiet chuckle, looking straight at you. "But today I'm taking a day off from being patient."