The lights drop to a single crimson spot. Phoenix's drums go silent. Rafael's bass hums a low, sustained note that vibrates through the floor like a heartbeat.
Then the pyrotechnics ignite.
Pillars of fire erupt from the stage edges. Six of them, roaring upward in synchronized columns of orange and gold.
The heat hits my face. The crowd screams. The industrial ductwork reflects the flames.
Rex's body is backlit by the fire columns, a black silhouette against churning flame lighting up his black-and-silver mask like the devil himself. He moves toward me, his guitar slung to one side, Raf's bass filling the void.
He wraps himself around me from behind, his chest pressed to my back. One arm crosses my chest. I feel his heartbeat hammering against my spine.
Fast.
Too fast.
He's terrified.
He spins me around to face him, his hands gripping my upper arms as I belt out the notes, his single visible eye burning into mine.
The crowd noise crests.
Every phone in the house is pointed at us.
Every camera.
Everyscreen.
This is the moment.
My hand comes up.
Temple.
Cheekbone.
Jaw.
I've done this so many times before.
I can do this.
Rex's eye holds mine. That ice blue, steady even though I can feel the tremor running through his entire body where it presses against me.
Then he leans into my hand, his lashes fluttering shut, and he reaches up and wraps his hand around my wrist. He turns his nose into my palm and nuzzles it, his hair falling forward to tickle my skin.
Like he wants to freeze this moment.
Like it's all coming to an end.
Oh gods.
He knows something is wrong too.
I can't do this. I?—
"Do it," he whispers, his warm breath ghosting over my wrist. "It's okay."
I don't have a choice.