Darkness enveloped the concert hall. The only light in the packed room came from lighters and glow sticks in the hands of each fan. The crowd chanted the band's name over and over, calling out for the men they adored from afar, waving their arms in time with the shouts.

"Fe-ral Si-lence! Fe-ral Si-lence!"

Interspersed, in the few quiet moments between chants, individual names could be heard in the screams.

"Jayce is my god!"

"I love you, Kell!"

"Ren, have my babies!"

"Marry me, Morris!"

Some fans held up glowing neon signs on poster board.

Feral Silence Stole My Heart I Would Sell My Soul For Feral Silence I Love Feral Silence More Than Chocolate A haze of dry ice began rolling over the stage floor, spilling onto the first few rows. The thick fog brought with it an almost supernatural atmosphere, a combination of tension and excitement. Squeals sounded from dozens of throats. They knew something was about to happen.

A dim spotlight burst forth from the ceiling, falling onto the back of the stage. It lit up Morris and his drum set, face still hidden in shadow. His sturdy shoulders were still as a statue, drumsticks held loosely in his hands, hovering over the drums. The screams ignited even louder. The chanting started up again.

"Fe-ral Si-lence!! Fe-ral Si-lence!!"

The chanting went on for several long minutes until the fans could no longer keep in sync. The screaming slowly dissolved into low murmurs and random shouts.

Another light fell upon the stage, lighting up Ren to the right, bass guitar hanging loosely from its strap across his shoulder. He kept his head down, long, glossy black hair falling over his face, hiding him from view.

The fans went crazy again, yelling out his name, stretching their hands as if they could reach out and touch him.

Ren's fitted black suit made him look as lean and tall as ever, the shadow cast by his body almost eerily slender. The details of his suit were cloaked in shadow, but any true fan knew it would be adorned with intricate buttons, a brass pocket watch, and a skinny tie.

After screaming their hearts out, the noise from the fans died down again. They had caught on quickly, shushing each other and telling their friends to stop yelling. Eventually, the audience was as quiet as an audience of that size could be. Even the one-off shouts had stopped. Low, quiet breaths were almost audible in the silent hall.

A third light appeared, trapping Jayce in a glowing halo. His face was half-turned away from the audience, keeping his side profile in darkness. His hands gripped the pure white guitar, dark, lithe fingers resting loosely on the strings. Jayce's eyes glimmered, narrow and fierce, ready to ensnare the audience. One corner of his mouth tilted slightly upward, fighting back a smirk.

The fans went crazy. A few started a chant of "Jayce, Jayce, Jayce!" that seemed to go on forever. Girls sobbed in the front row, tears streaming down pink cheeks. They covered their mouths with both hands as if they couldn't believe their eyes.

The chanting slowed down, the audience waiting with bated breath. The whole room was awash in anticipation, the tension almost visible in the air. Every so often the crowd's volume would rise in pitch, only to quiet down again, a roiling wave of voices.

At long last, the fourth and final spotlight hit center stage, lighting up Kell with his microphone stand, messy blond hair falling over his forehead. Kell's usual ripped jeans and sneakers gave him a casual edge that belied the fire they knew burned inside him.

The lead singer stared out at the audience, flashing a manic grin. The fans went wild. He leaned forward into the microphone. The screaming turned even louder. He brought a hand up to caress the stand. Voices reached a hysterical pitch. Kell let out a pleased laugh, blowing a puff of air into the microphone. He seemed to enjoy making them wait, making them beg. He surveyed the audience from left to right as they screamed and screamed until their throats and lungs gave out. He put a hand to his eyes, shielding them from the bright lights, getting a better look at the fans gathered before him.

Finally, he spoke. "You guys ready?"

"Yes!!" came the thundering reply.

Morris crashed the cymbals and stomped on the bass drum pedal.

"I said, are you ready?!"

"Yes!!"

Ren rammed his hand across the bass guitar strings, sending a powerful thrum through the crowd, reverberating in every chest.

"ARE YOU FUCKING READY??"

"YESSS!!!"

Jayce's fingers flew up the fret board, looking out at the audience with a hungry, heated gaze.

"THEN LET'S DO THIS!!"

The concert was on.

Chapter Five.

"Kell: Boxers or briefs?"

"Commando."

I rolled my eyes and typed Kell's response.

We'd been on the road for a week already, and the guys were used to these interrogations. I ambushed them with prying fan questions on the first day, thinking it'd be best to break the ice by just jumping in headfirst. I had wanted the band members to know exactly what kind of work I'd be doing. Luckily, they didn't mind. In fact, the guys usually had a lot of fun with it.

Jayce was on the sofa farthest from me. Ever since that moment we'd had on the tour bus before everyone arrived, he'd been keeping his distance. I still caught him glancing at me out of the corner of his eye every so often. The more days that passed, the more often I caught him.

I was attracted to Jayce; I couldn't deny it. I'd been bold that first day, showing off for him, but it made me blush and squirm every time I thought about it. What had gotten into me?

Jayce was clearly attracted to me, too. That much was obvious. But why? Why me? I was just another intern. Did he think I would throw myself at him like every other fan? That wasn't going to happen. I was determined to be professional from now on.

Which was why I was grilling the guys about their underwear habits and posting the answers online.

Morris and Ren had chosen to sit at the bar. Morris already had a bottle of water in his hand, chilled from the bar fridge. I wondered whose job it was to keep the band stocked with drinks and food. Probably some other intern. Companies sure did like to use our free labor.

Kell draped himself over my shoulder, reading the questions from my phone's screen, laughing aloud at each one before I read them to the room.

"Ren: You touched my hand in Dallas, and I haven't washed it since." I raised my head from my phone. "Any response?"

Ren lifted an eyebrow. "Tell whoever wrote it that I'm flattered, but for sanitation's sake, please wash both hands regularly."

"How do you even choose which questions to respond to?" Kell asked, grabbing my phone and scrolling through the messages I had marked to answer. "There must be tons coming in every second."

"Every second, huh? You must think pretty highly of yourself." I grabbed at the phone. He let me steal it back, giving me a smug grin.

"It's not that hard. Sometimes I look for questions that are interesting or unique, something nobody's asked before. Or I'll choose something funny or cute that's bound to get lots of shares. I'll usually check to see how many followers they have and if their posts tend to get shared a lot. I don't only choose popular users, but it helps if they have a following. We want people to be talking about us."

"But only good stuff, right?" Morris asked.

"Hey, it's us. There's only good stuff." Kell grinned.

I continued scrolling through the list of questions. A notification popped up on my screen before I could ask the next one. It was a private message. I tapped to open it, and my jaw dropped.

wonder who you had to fuck to get a job as an official groupie you better watch yourself bitch if you know whats good for you Those messages were clearly aimed at the person running the band's social media accounts. Aimed at me. What kind of jealous loser would send a message like that? My hands trembled a bit as I swiped to delete the message. What kind of psychos would I have to deal with? I shook my head inwardly. Some people took their fandom way too seriously.

"What is it?" Jayce asked, sitting up from his casual slouch on the sofa, looking concerned. "Something wrong?" He must have noticed my pause and seen my hands shaking.

"It's nothing. Just a stupid message. I ignore a lot of them."

He didn't look convinced, but nodded and settled back down, continuing to watch me carefully.

"Let's get to the next question. 'My friend Sharon told me Kell's real name is Kelsey. Is that true?'"

Kell blanched. "Ugh. Who started that rumor?"

"Not exactly a rumor," Morris drawled.

"You shut your mouth." Kell pointed accusingly at Morris, then turned to me. "Tell them it's a dirty lie."

"Is it?" I asked, intrigued.

Kell nodded emphatically. "Yeah. Of course. Totally untrue. A complete falsehood."

I couldn't help but grin. "You don't have to protest so hard. Kelsey's not a bad name for a boy."

Kell folded his arms over his chest, looking put out. "My parents were jerks," he muttered.

I decided to let Kell have his moment of pique and moved on. "Jayce, will you marry me?" My heart skipped a beat as I glanced at him. "Gonna make some girl's dream come true today?"

He threw me a wicked grin.

"I'd rather marry my guitar," Kell mimicked Jayce's low baritone before he could answer. "You practically have sex with it on stage anyway."

"Tell them my heart only has room for one true love: music."

"Awww, how poetic," Kell bantered back.

I nearly melted at the quirk of Jayce's lips. I took a steadying breath and moved on. I wouldn't let myself fall into a stupor every time Jayce gave me one of his tempting looks. I refused to fall under his spell like every other fangirl.

"Morris: I've seen you in concert a hundred times. Will you ever take off your shirt?"

"Impossible. We haven't done one hundred shows yet," Morris said, deadpan.

"And the shirt thing?" I prompted.

"Write down that I'll take off my shirt when Kell takes off his pants."

"Man, don't give him ideas," Jayce groaned.

Kell's eyes lit up. "Hey, how about next show I-"

"No." All three of them spoke at the same time.

"Why don't I just tell her to keep coming to shows, and maybe she'll get to see your naked chest one day?"

Morris nodded and went back to listening silently.

"Ren: Would you ever date a girl as tall as you?"

Ren's eyes crinkled at the corners. "Why wouldn't I?"

"I dunno," I said doubtfully. "You're pretty tall. I don't think I've ever seen a girl as tall as you."

"Tell them I have no preference when it comes to height."

I typed it up. "What do you look for in a girl?" I asked, knowing someone would ask it as a follow-up question.

"Who said he's into girls?" Kell quipped.

Ren lifted his eyes heavenward as if praying for patience. "Just say I like a girl with a good personality."

Jayce shook his head. "Too boring. You can do better than that."

"It's true," I told him. "Everyone knows that's a cop out answer."

"Fine. Tell them I'd like someone who can hold deep, meaningful conversations. Is that good enough?"

"That'll do. Jayce: 'It's my eighteenth birthday next month. Will you come to my party?' Aw, that's sweet."

"Eighteen means she's legal." Kell wiggled his eyebrows in a fake leer.

"Pervert," Morris said under his breath, but I saw him suppress a grin.

"Tell her I'm sorry, but I've got something secret planned for next month."

I gave him an approving nod. "That's a good one. It'll answer her question and get people wondering what the secret is."

"How often are we going to have to do this?" Jayce asked. It had only been a week. I wondered if he was already getting sick of it.