Souta’s breath hitched. His nails dug into his palms as he watched Skull under the stage lights—dangerous, untouchable, devastating. The guitar on his knee, the microphone so close to his lips… Souta shouldn’t be here. Skull shouldn’t be looking at him like that. Not after everything. But the moment their eyes met, the air turned electric. A silent dare. A forbidden pull. Souta should leave. Should look away. But he didn’t. He couldn’t. And Skull… was about to play.
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