Brandon's POV
I walked away from Zoe feeling like someone had ripped my chest open, leaving everything to bleed out in the open. Every step felt heavier than the last. At first, I didn't even know where I was going; I just needed distance—from her, from the hallway, from the pain lodged in my throat. If I stayed there even a second longer, I would either break down completely or say something I would regret.
My fists clenched tightly at my sides, a physical manifestation of the turmoil roiling within me as I navigated the dimly lit backstage corridor. The faint hum of distant voices and the rustle of gear echoed against the walls, guiding me toward the loading area, where the rest of the band was already assembling our equipment in a chaotic flurry.
"Damn this. Damn tonight. Fuck these feelings. Damn everything," I cursed under my breath, each word laced with frustration.
