“After going back and forth with the private investigator and Finn, we noticed that the prose in the messages is awfully similar to the one your obsessed, psycho fan used… Which makes it all make sense. In whatever delusional world this person lives in, they believe you belong to them”—Niels pointed at Kaj—“hence why you’re the enemy,” he concluded, gesturing toward Noah.
The room fell silent, the gravity of the situation settling over them like a heavy blanket. Outside, the sounds of the city seemed to mock the tension in their private sanctuary.
The worst part? There was nothing they could do. Reporting cyberstalking to the police was pointless—it was “difficult to prosecute and a low priority.” In Kaj’s case years earlier, even when things escalated and law enforcement got involved, they kept hitting dead ends. The stalker was a nutcase but undeniably tech-savvy, using VPNs, burner phones, randomized usernames and emails, and avoiding public Wi-Fi entirely. The police were confident they’d eventually catch them—after all, even the most skilled cybercriminals slip up—but the stalker vanished before that could happen.
“This is fucked up.” Kaj stood up suddenly, unable to sit still any longer. He paced to the window. “So, what do we do? Issue a statement? Deny everything?”
“That’s why I brought you two in here,” Niels said, touching his grey beard. “We have options, but ultimately, this is your lives we’re talking about.”
Kaj turned from the window. “What are those options?”
Niels settled into one of the armchairs, gesturing for them to sit on the couch across the coffee table. Noah complied, but Kaj remained standing, his nerves too wired to function properly.
“There are several approaches.” Niels’s voice took on the measured tone he used when navigating difficult situations. “We could issue a formal denial, claiming the photos have been misinterpreted on purpose. We could go with a ‘no comment’ strategy and let it die down naturally. Or…” he hesitated, exchanging glances with the two musicians, “we could acknowledge it, which would allow us to control the narrative.”
The silence that followed was deafening. Kaj finally moved from the window, dropping onto the couch next to Noah. Their knees almost touched, and Kaj found himself aware of the few inches between them in a way he wouldn’t have been before those photos surfaced.
“So basically, we’re fucked,” Kaj said, leaning forward to rest his elbows on his knees.
“Not necessarily,” Niels replied. “But we need to be strategic about whatever we decide. This isn’t just about your privacy anymore. It’s about your safety.”
Noah exhaled. “What do you think we should do?”
“Professionally speaking, I’d recommend the second option. In a different decade, homosexuality would have been an issue, but not anymore. Getting on the defensive and denying it doesn’t make much sense.” He paused, his expression softening. “But personally? I think you both deserve to live authentically, however that looks for you.”
Kaj let out a humorless laugh. “The thing is, we’re not a couple.” He glanced at Noah, their eyes meeting briefly before both looked away. “We just…”
“Fuck occasionally?” Noah supplied, a bitter note in his tone.
Niels didn’t even blink. “The nature of your relationship isn’t relevant to how we handle this. My biggest concern is managing the public fallout and ensuring your safety—especially yours, Noah, given this stalking situation.”
Tensionhung in the air like a poisonous cloud.
Knowing someone was watching your every step was a nightmare. You literally feel like a hunted animal. You go outside and your mind is hyperactive, scanning every face you see. Every sound makes you react and turn toward it. Then, when the initial shock starts to wear off, your body is still under stress, but it’s not nearly as high as in the beginning, which allows logical thinking to return in full force. What would be an entry point to my home? Could that corner be a potential place for someone to ambush me?
“I think we need time to process this before making any public statement,” Kaj said, measuring each word as he looked at Noah, seeking confirmation.
Noah nodded. “Rushing into anything would be a mistake.”
“Okay. I’ll tell the PR team that we’re going with a silent strategy for the time being.”
“What do you need from us in the meantime?” Kaj asked.
“There’s not much you can do.” Niels stood, straightening his leather vest. “I already told Ivar, who’s alerted the head of security and his guys to be wary of the situation. You just… be extra careful from now on. And Noah”—he fixed the vocalist with a serious look—“forward me any new messages you get, no matter how insignificant they seem.”
Noah nodded.
“Also, I think you should consider telling the crew so they can also keep an eye out for anyone suspicious coming around.”
After Niels left, the two musicians sat in silence for several long moments. The plush couch seemed to swallow them, the elegant room suddenly feeling like a cage.
“What a shit show,” Noah said after a while.
Kaj ran a hand through his hair, letting out a long breath. “Yeah.”
“Are you okay?” Noah asked, turning to face him.
“Yeah. I mean, this sucks, but it’s not my first rodeo. You?”
