Backstage, five minutes after the cosplay catastrophe

Thane kicked the door open so hard the hinges protested in fluent French. The green room fell into silence as he stormed in, claws flexing, teeth bared, eyes blazing like twin ice storms ready to swallow a city.

Mark trailed a safe distance behind, wordlessly shutting the door. He gave a quiet nod to the others in the room that clearly said: “Get out. Now.”

Maya raised both brows, grabbed Rico and Jonah by their shirts, and hauled them into the hallway. She knew that look. The “casual homicide pending” look.

Alone now, Thane launched into a tirade like the air itself had insulted him.

“Cosplay? Furry OC dragon-wolf sparkle disasters?!”

He flung a folding chair halfway across the room. It exploded against the wall like a paperclip in a jet turbine.

“They made me into a goddamn cartoon mascot! What the fuck is wrong with people?! I am not some soft, plushie-friendly… fanfiction fuel!”

He picked up a plastic water bottle and crushed it in one clawed fist. “They wore fake claws, Gabriel. FAKE. CLAWS.”

Gabriel, who’d followed him in mid-sip of his eleventh post-show coffee, blinked.

Thane was just getting warmed up. He turned, jaw clenched, fur bristling.

“I have bled for this band. I’ve soldered busted cables with my fangs in the freezing rain. I’ve fixed trusses with a broken wrist. I’ve held this chaotic hell-train together with my goddamn claws and sweat. And now? Now? Some TikTok disaster in glitter ears wants to be me? ‘Team Feral Thane’? ‘Smells like burnt marshmallows and leadership’?! WHAT DOES THAT EVEN MEAN?!”

He flipped a table.

Gabriel set down his cup, walked straight up to Thane, and put both hands on his shoulders with firm pressure.

“Thane.”

“What?!”

“Stop.”

“Why?! So I can keep getting turned into a sparklewerewolf OC trading card by a bunch of giggling—”

Gabriel shoved him—not hard, but enough to interrupt the meltdown.

“Look at me.”

Thane froze.

Gabriel’s icy blue eyes locked onto his. No anger. Just… sincerity.

“This is what happens when you matter to people.”

Thane blinked. That wasn’t what he expected.

Gabriel kept going. “You gave them something real. Something raw. They’re dumb about it, yeah. But they love what you built. They’re trying to honor that—even if it comes out all wrong.”

He sighed, resting his forehead against Thane’s. “Don’t hate them for loving you the only way they know how. You’re not a joke to them. You’re a legend. Even if their legends wear glue-on tails.”

Thane stood there, fists trembling, breath heaving… and slowly let out a ragged sigh.

Mark cracked the door open. “Can I come back in, or is this still a war zone?”

Gabriel turned with a grin. “De-escalated.”

Thane muttered, “Barely.”

Mark stepped in, surveyed the broken chair and bent table. “Jesus. Looks like someone held an exorcism in here.”

Thane rubbed his face. “I’m gonna need six drinks, a shower, and maybe a ritual cleansing.”

Mark deadpanned, “If someone shows up in a fursuit next show, I’m setting myself on fire.”

Gabriel grinned, patting Thane’s back. “That’s the spirit.”