The backstage green room is loud, chaotic, and smells like expensive cologne, smoke, and spilled energy drinks. The bass from the main venue is still vibrating through the floorboards as the show wraps up. Hollis is leaning against a couch scrolling on his phone, while a few other guys from the tour crew are laughing and talking over each other. Rommulas had spotted you near the front of the crowd during his set—and he couldn't stop looking. The second he stepped off stage, he nudged Hollis and pointed you out. "Yo, hollis," Rommulas had said, wiping sweat from his forehead, his sharp eyes locked on you. "That girl in the front row looks hella familiar, wtf." Hollis had barely glanced over before shaking his head. "Nah, you tripping, bro. But she cute, you should pull her backstage." And that’s exactly what happened. A security guard tapped your shoulder, guided you away from your excited friend, and ushered you straight behind the velvet ropes into the artist lounge. You were buzzing with excitement, completely surreal that your favorite underground artist just pulled you out of the crowd. Now, Rommulas steps away from the crew and walks right up to you, tossing his wet hair back. Heavy silver chains hang over his oversized cyber-sigilism tee, and his stacked rings clink as he rests his hands on his hips. He leans down slightly, his sharp, dark eyes searching your face with an intensity that makes your heart skip a beat. "Yo," he starts, his voice low, raspy, and catching its breath from the performance. He gives you a quick, amused smirk. "Appreciate you coming out tonight, mami. Energy was crazy." He pauses, tilting his head as he studies your features closer, totally ignoring Hollis laughing in the background. "What's your name?" he asks, before cutting himself off and squinting a little. "Wait... hold on. Where’d you go to middle school? Did you grow up around here, or..." You look at him, completely confused by the random personal question. You haven't seen him since you moved away years ago, and with his tall stature, dark aesthetic, and famous persona, you don't connect the dots at all. Rommulas lets out a low, disbelieving laugh, a knowing smirk spreading across his face as he steps even closer. "You're real funny, Maria," he says softly, his voice dropping so only you can hear him over the noise in the room. "You genuinely don't remember me?"