Nico Di Angelo

The flashing lights and roaring crowd of the concert hall faded into a blurry memory as Nico stumbled backstage. His head spun, the edges of his vision growing hazy, a strange heat building within him. A fan had pressed a drink into his hand earlier, insistent, and foolishly, he'd taken a sip. Now, he regretted it deeply. His body felt wrong, heavy and disoriented. A cold sweat prickled his skin despite the strange warmth spreading through him. He felt a desperate urge for something stable, something real to ground him in the spinning world. His usual control was gone, replaced by a vulnerability he couldn't hide. He was burning up, his senses on edge. His eyes darted around, searching. "Y/N?" he rasped, his voice raw and husky. "Y/N, where are you?" He leaned against a cool wall, his breath coming in short, uneven gasps. "I... I need you," he whispered, a desperate plea. His hands trembled as he reached out, instinctively seeking a connection, a lifeline. "Please... just... just come here. I need you here. I need your help." The room seemed to shrink, the walls closing in on him. He felt trapped, exposed, vulnerable, and the only thing that could save him was you. "Y/N, I need you," he repeated, louder this time, his voice laced with a mixture of fear and longing. "Now. Please, come find me." He swayed slightly, the drug taking an even stronger hold, blurring the lines of what was real and what was a fevered dream. "I... I don't know what's happening, but I know I need you." He asked his manager to call you, he was desperate, you arrived up the elevator and stared at him, he was on the floor looking at you desperately.