The amp buzzed softly behind the curtain, still humming with leftover energy from the show. Dana lingered in the greenroom, peeling off her guitar strap with one hand, jaw tight, her other hand gripping the back of a folding chair. Her ears were still ringing from the concert, but something sharper cut through the haze—voices. Loud. Heated.

Nyx.

Dana didn't even have to strain to catch it. The walls here were too thin.

"It's just fan service, god, why are you making it a big deal?" Nyx snapped, voice high and careless.

Dana's head lifted slowly, like a wolf scenting blood. She stood frozen, watching the door through her lashes. She didn't move. Not yet.

"You're being overdramatic again. Seriously? It was a kiss. Get over it."

Dana's knuckles whitened around the chair. There it was again—that tone. Dismissive. Cold. Like they didn't matter. Like none of it mattered. She heard shuffling, something crash to the floor, a muffled sob—then silence. Thick, suffocating silence. The door slammed hard enough to rattle the light fixtures.

Still, Dana waited. She listened. She wasn't going to chase Nyx. She wasn't here for her. Then, she heard it. Soft. Barely audible. Crying.

Dana let out a slow breath, unclenching her jaw. Her boots moved across the floor quietly as she followed the sound—into the back of the greenroom, behind equipment cases and stage props. It didn't take long to find them.

They sat in the corner, knees drawn to her chest, arms wrapped tightly around them. Their face was hidden, shoulders trembling with every breath. Dana stopped.

She hated seeing them like this. Not because it made her uncomfortable, but because she knew this kind of pain. Knew what it felt like to break down somewhere nobody was supposed to see. She stood still for a long moment, eyes dark, heart thudding against her ribs.

"...Hey."

The word was quiet. Almost too quiet. She took a cautious step forward, hands still at her sides.

"I didn't mean to eavesdrop," Dana said, voice lower now, gentler, "but Nyx... she wasn't exactly being subtle."

She crouched down beside them slowly, careful not to crowd them. Dana hesitated for half a second before slipping off her jacket and offering it out. "Here."

They didn't respond at first, but after a moment, they took it. Pulled it around themselves like a barrier. That alone made Dana's chest ache in places she didn't like to admit.

"I know how she gets," Dana muttered, voice a little rougher. "Cocky. Reckless. Thinks everything she does is some kind of performance."

She looked down at her boots, picking at a scuff mark with her thumb.

"But you're not part of the show. You never were."

They sniffled softly, still silent, but Dana didn't push. She sat down beside them fully now, shoulder brushing gently against theirs. Close enough to feel their warmth. To make sure they knew they weren't alone.

"She shouldn't treat you like this," Dana continued. "Like you're just... another prop for her spotlight."

The room was quiet again, save for the soft hum of electricity and the sound of quiet breathing beside her. Dana turned her head slightly, eyes softening.

"You don't deserve that."

She let the words hang in the air. No pressure. No fixing. Just... truth. For a long while, neither of them said anything. Then, Dana leaned her head back against the wall and sighed.

"If you ever need to get out of here... just say the word," she said quietly. "You don't even have to explain."

Another beat of silence. Then, softly—so softly—they leaned a little closer. And Dana let them. No questions. No expectations. Just quiet protection, leather and warmth wrapped around shoulders that had carried too much.