8:03 PM – Somewhere between adrenaline, chaos, and a badly dented nacho tray

The green room wasn’t a room so much as a warzone with carpet. The scent of sweat, string lubricant, and the world’s most questionable veggie platter hung thick in the air. Someone — probably Rico — had turned the volume on the little Bluetooth speaker way too high, blasting classic hip-hop while the band exploded in every direction at once.

Cassie was sprawled across the old leather sofa like a starfish, eyeliner smudged, shirt half-untucked. “I just found a chicken nugget in my bra. Not sure how long it’s been there.”

Maya, rhythm guitar slung over one shoulder, was rifling through the catering table with the intensity of a treasure hunter. “If none of this is spicy, I’m flipping the table.”

Jonah, the drummer, stood in the corner with a towel around his neck and two sticks still clenched in one fist like he forgot to let go after the set. “I think my snare stand is possessed. It moved. During the last song. While I was playing it.”

Mark, arms crossed by the door, offered helpfully: “Or you’re hallucinating from dehydration. Both are on-brand.”

Jonah blinked. “Oh. Cool. Just checking.”

Rico, meanwhile, was mid-argument with Thane near the rack of empty guitar cases. “I’m just saying — again — it’d be awesome if someone labeled these by instrument and not ‘Rico’s Shiny One’ and ‘Don’t Touch, It’s Maya’s.’”

Thane, coiled audio cable looped in one clawed hand like a lasso of logic, shrugged. “We tried that. Then Maya yelled at me for touching her ‘vibe.’ I don’t even know what that means.”

From across the room, Maya didn’t look up. “It means don’t touch my vibe, wolfman.”

Gabriel was leaning against the drinks cooler with a fresh shirt and a towel draped around his neck like a pro wrestler. He looked like the only one not actively malfunctioning. He took a sip of his coffee and grinned. “Well, I think it went great.”

Mark deadpanned: “You broke a monitor, two foggers, and screamed into the wrong mic during intros.”

Gabriel pointed with his cup. “Exactly. Rock and roll, baby.”

Cassie groaned from the couch. “Can we just acknowledge that the crowd went feral? Like I legit thought someone was gonna jump the barricade.”

Rico nodded. “That one guy with the glowing shirt? Yeah. He barked.”

Jonah: “Wasn’t that Thane?”

Everyone looked at Thane, who was now casually rewinding cable.

“…Yeah,” he said after a pause. “That one was me.”

A round of exhausted laughter erupted. Even Mark cracked a half-smile.

At that moment, Ruby—the venue’s overworked backstage coordinator—poked her head in. “Y’all good? Need anything?”

Maya: “A blowtorch and nachos.”

Thane: “Gaffer tape and maybe a chiropractor.”

Gabriel: “Coffee. Always coffee.”

Ruby just blinked. “…Right. So… no?”

As she backed out slowly, Rico grabbed a half-broken chair and flopped down next to Jonah. “Next show’s gonna top this one. I can feel it.”

Jonah gave a long, dramatic nod. “Yeah, but first — I gotta find out if that snare stand follows me home.”