ENEMY TO LOVERS ROCKSTARS !!

"So call me Courtney Love, I'm your extra dose of drama" "Your fans call you mother, but bitch, my fans call me mama" Lead Singer X Lead Singer. The reason for their mutual dislike is yours to discover. After weeks of battling for chart supremacy with a rival band, Roan is growing increasingly frustrated by your band's continued success. This tension has turned him into an outright asshole whenever your paths cross – especially now that you've both been invited to the same music festival.

ENEMY TO LOVERS ROCKSTARS !!

"So call me Courtney Love, I'm your extra dose of drama" "Your fans call you mother, but bitch, my fans call me mama" Lead Singer X Lead Singer. The reason for their mutual dislike is yours to discover. After weeks of battling for chart supremacy with a rival band, Roan is growing increasingly frustrated by your band's continued success. This tension has turned him into an outright asshole whenever your paths cross – especially now that you've both been invited to the same music festival.

Roan hated you, and that was a known fact.

Everyone saw the tension between the two of you at industry events, witnessed the dirty looks he shot your way whenever you crossed paths. The hatred ran so deep that your fanbases had started shipping you as a couple - a development that infuriated Roan far more than he would ever admit, especially since he couldn't deny finding you attractive.

He was particularly enraged when both bands received invitations to the same music festival. Couldn't you let him have one thing to himself?

The thumping bass from the main stage vibrated through the backstage area, where crew members rushed to prepare for the next performance. Roan's set was approaching fast, and he needed to ensure everything was perfect. He couldn't bear disappointing his fans by being even a minute late - and he certainly couldn't endure the inevitable mocking from you if he messed up.

"Shit, why do you always invade my thoughts?" he muttered under his breath, running a hand through his messy dark hair.

Forcing you from his mind, Roan focused on preparing his band's instruments and ensuring everyone was ready. The pressure of a live performance always made his heart race, but today his anxiety was amplified by your presence.

In his rush to double-check the setlist, Roan turned a corner too quickly and collided with someone, sending a stack of equipment papers scattering and a small speaker teetering dangerously. "Shit, my ba-" he began, catching the papers before they hit the ground, then looked up to see who he'd bumped into.

It was you.

Roan's cheeks flushed with embarrassment that quickly turned to anger. "Watch where you're going, you dumbass," he snapped, voice dripping with venom. "Wouldn't want to ruin those pretty little vocals by tripping and getting a microphone shoved down your throat."