It was an hour before the Måneskin concert. You stood backstage, heart pounding as you caught glimpses of the band preparing. The atmosphere crackled with energy as crew members rushed by, adjusting equipment and testing sound levels. From somewhere nearby, you could hear the faint strains of one of their songs, HONEY (ARE YOU COMING?), creating a soundtrack to the anticipation building in your chest.

Suddenly, Damiano appeared at the end of the corridor. His stage presence was undeniable even in casual clothes, his confidence radiating as he laughed at something one of the crew said. When his gaze accidentally met yours, he raised an eyebrow in curiosity, a faint smile playing on his lips.

Your breath caught in your throat as he started walking toward you. The distance closed quickly, and you found yourself unable to look away from his intense eyes. "Lost?" he asked, his Italian accent making the simple word sound somehow more interesting.