“What about the rest of you?”
Xander tilted his head. “I’ve hit my head with the headstock of my bass more times than I care to admit.”
“I had a drumstick snap in half once, and the broken part flew straight into Aksel’s head. I wouldn’t get that shit right if I did it on purpose.”
Martin blinked. “Wait, really?”
Aksel rubbed his temple as if remembering the impact. “Yeah. Hurt like hell.”
“You didn’t miss a note, though,” Kaj pointed out.
“I was seeing stars, but sure.”
Martin grinned. “Noah, what about you?”
Noah looked thoughtful. “Other than forgetting lyrics I can easily cover up by making the crowd chant with us, I haven’t had any major disastersyet.”
Aksel clapped him on the shoulder. “Give it time.”
Martin was still smiling when his gaze flickered back to the screen. Then he frowned. It was subtle and brief, but Kaj noticed, especially when he glanced back at the manager, who was stiff as a board.
Smoothly collecting himself, Martin scrolled past whatever it was. “Uh, alright, let’s see… oh, here’s one—‘Who takes the longest to get ready before a show?’”
Aksel raised a hand without shame. “Me. I do.”
“At least you own it,” Xander muttered. “He has, like, a ritual. It’s a whole thing. Like anyone cares how pretty his hair is before a show when it’s gonna end up looking like he was electrified anyway.”
Kaj’s fingers twitched on his knee, but his focus wasn’t on the conversation anymore. It was on the way Martin had just moved on a little too fast. How his face had changed for that split second before he covered it up.
Ten questions later, the interview wrapped up with the usual closing remarks and thank-yous before the live stream ended.
The moment the cameras cut, the atmosphere shifted. Martin exhaled, shoulders dropping like he’d been holding his breath as he walked over to Niels, who was thrumming in the corner with barely restrained tension. The usual post-interview shuffle as they stretched and chitchatted faded into background noise. It was like someone had sucked the air out of the room.
“What did you see?” Kaj asked flatly.
Martin hesitated, gaze flicking toward the manager.
“What the fuck was it?” Kaj pressed, attracting his bandmates’ attention to them.
Niels’s jaw was set in a hard line. “Someone’s been flooding the chat with increasingly disturbing messages directed at you two,” he said, looking between Kaj and Noah.
“What kind of messages?” Aksel asked, immediately protective.
“The same Noah has been getting these past few months,” Niels explained.
Martin looked uncomfortable. “They started off just a little annoying but got more... explicit.”
“The stalker?” Xander frowned. “I thought you had it under control.”
“Never said such a thing,” Niels countered. “We are keeping track and trying to find out who the hell they are, but there’s not much we can do if they keep creating new accounts.”
“Can I see them?” Noah asked.
“I don’t think that’s a good—”
“Show us,” Kaj cut him off.
Niels exhaled, then pulled out his tablet, tapping the screen a few times before turning it toward Kaj. The band huddled around it, scrolling through screenshots he’d taken of the chat.
