In the brief, awkward silences between our splintered conversation, I found myself passively observing the madness. Here I was, talking—talking—to Magnus Claymore. He wanted to talk to me.

Well, more he needed to talk to me.

Either way, despite everything, I found it very difficult not to be acutely aware of the absolute state I was in. Absently tucking one of several loose locks of hair behind my ears, I folded my arms and bucked my weight onto one leg, turning my head towards the hotel entrance.

“Okay erm…where?” I asked, finding it easier to talk without looking at him directly.

Magnus sighed with relief, and he stepped out of the lift and into my line of sight. He glanced over my shoulder, thumbs hooked into the pocket of his dark-wash jeans, and pulled a face.

“Yeah, probably don’t want those guys seeing me chase a girl up to her room,” he said with an awkward chuckle. His attempt to lighten the mood landed like a one-winged pigeon.

I turned to him, lips pursed.

He gave a tortured half-smile and then broke our eye contact swiftly.

“Ah-hem, right, er, so, about what you thought you saw—” Magnus started, stepping closer to me and dropping his voice down to a murmur. I backed up instinctively, a scoff of indignation overtaking me.

Seriously, no one was more upset about my reaction than I was. But being spoken to like I was either out of my mind or stupid, well, it just didn’t sit right with me either. Magnus fangirl or not.

“What I thought I saw?” I repeated, being sure to use my loudest indoor voice to make Magnus squirm. “Seriously? That’s what you’re going for now? Wow, never meet your heroes, right?”

I turned and jabbed my thumb on the lift button again, opening the doors with the intent of getting out of this conversation. But Magnus quickly recovered, throwing a hand out to hold the doors open and to keep the lift right where it was.

“N-no, I didn’t mean—I’m sorry!” he stammered, eyes wide with panic. For a second, my heart broke at the sight of it. It was enough to keep me from walking into the lift, and I paused to silently beckon him to continue. “I’m sorry, it’s just…I’ve never…no one’s ever noticed before.”

“Noticed you…having an after-gig snack?” I watched him tense in fear then relax the moment I avoided addressing his bizarre behaviour out loud. “Look, don’t worry about it. You, er…rockstars do crazy shit like that all the time, right?”

Probably not.

“It’s not what you think,” Magnus said, shaking his head and leaning heavily into the lift door. A sudden, crippling exhaustion draped over him like a heavy mantle, his shoulders sagging. “I’m not…I’m not crazy. That wasn’t…it sort of…wasn’t me.”

He sounded so desperate, so worn out. I nervously fumbled with my sleeves, really just wanting to go back to having never met him and adoring him from afar. God, that was so much easier.

“Okay. It…wasn’t you,” I agreed without believing. “No worries. I mean, no worries anyway, I got like, no followers on Instagram. Even if I was gonna post that pic, no one would notice.”

Magnus’ face paled, a sparkle of fear returning to his eyes as he pinned me with a pleading look once again.

“You’re not gonna—”

“I’m not gonna post it,” I cut him off, waving a hand between us then shifting to press my fingers against my temples. I just wanted this over with. Every uncomfortable moment was ruining my treasured stability—namely my adoration for this guy, which was wrecked by the fact he probably hated me right now. It was better when he didn’t know me at all. “Yeah, don’t worry, not…not gonna post it.”

“Will…will you delete it?”

“Sure, yeah, I’ll delete it when I get back to my room,” I mumbled, turning from the lift he was keeping open and heading down the hall towards the door to the stairwell instead. “Don’t worry.”

“Wait, can you just—?”

“No battery, need my charger,” I interrupted him again, not pausing in my escape. “Consider it gone though. Great gig, man.”

With that, the door swung closed behind me. Putting a barrier between us seemed to alleviate the pressure in the air, and I let myself lean back against the wall for a moment just to close my eyes and breathe, stretching out the tightness that had settled in my chest.

When I opened them again, I couldn’t help but check through the tiny glass window of the door to my right. I watched as Magnus wandered out of the hotel doors to the street, a hand rubbing the back of his head. No doubt he was still worried I’d sell the photo to the media or something.

My chest twisted with remorse once again. Maybe I should have just deleted it in the bar and smiled at him. But in my defence, I had just watched a dude eat a rat.

One foot made it to the stairs before guilt took me by the hand and pulled me back to the doors. An awful, snaking damnation had burrowed its way into my heart. Whatever insult I felt from Magnus’ choice of tactics, I couldn’t let him wander off worrying like this. I knew only too well what a night of overthinking could do.

So, with my feet moving before my brain did, I found myself jogging out onto the street again, the cold night air striking my skin and making me yearn for my bed once more.

It felt hopeless. I had only seen him turn left outside the hotel. God only knew if he’d turned off since then, or gotten a cab, or whatever the hell else.

“Fuck…” I muttered under my breath, stuffing my hands further into the front pocket of my hoodie, shoulders tensing, as I continued to scour the streets, lampposts piercing the dark brighter than the stars that struggled above the city haze. The streetlights bled burnt orange casts across the eclectic mix of the city’s imposing architecture—beautiful by day and haunting by night. The hour was creeping from night to early morning, and revellers were shifting from closing bars to clubs or homes.