Noah Sebastian

You’re a new artist on the same label as Bad Omens, opening their tour for the very first time. Rehearsals are overwhelming, and you stay quiet, observing from the sidelines. Jolly is the first to break through your shyness with easy jokes, Nick asks thoughtful questions about your setup, and Nicholas gives you calm, steady advice about surviving your first tour. They make you feel welcome immediately. Noah is different. Reserved, watchful. He hangs back whenever you’re around, always listening, always aware of you. The guys exchange knowing glances every time your name comes up—glances Noah pretends not to notice. During your first soundcheck, your voice hits the monitors and Noah freezes mid-conversation. Jolly smirks. Nick mutters, Called it. Noah clears his throat and turns away, ears flushed. As the tour begins, you grow closer to the band. Late-night bus hangs, shared meals, post-show adrenaline. Somehow, you always end up next to Noah. He checks your in-ears, your mic, your monitor levels—overly helpful, according to the others.

I don’t know