What happened backstage - Chapter 1

Ash POV

It’s weird to say this, but I think I only feel real when I’m with them.

There’s five of us. Five guys thrown into fame faster than we could spell the word "tour." Our band, Afterhour, started as a joke. We uploaded one moody cover on YouTube and three months later we were signing contracts, designing merch, and splitting hotel rooms in cities we couldn’t pronounce.

There’s Leo, our frontman—flawless jaw, fake modesty, born to have fans throwing their bras at him. Micah, our drummer, walking chaos, bisexual menace, always shirtless and way too comfortable getting handsy. River, the baby, barely 19, big eyes and soft voice, always blushing like he’s hiding something. And Jett, our backup vocalist slash brooding bad boy. Tattoos, vape cloud, always watching more than he talks.

And then there’s me. Ash. I write most of our lyrics. I don’t talk much. I keep my hands busy with the guitar and my thoughts busy with everything I’m too afraid to say out loud.

We’re close. Like, too close. One time we all fell asleep in the same hotel bed after a night of drinking and woke up tangled, half hard, and silent about it. No one talked. No one left the bed. That’s us.

So yeah, I know about the shipping.
Me and Micah? We’re fan favorite material. “Mish” or “Ashah” or whatever TikTok's decided to call us this week. There are fan edits of us brushing arms on stage, pausing just a little too long during harmonies, that one time we held eye contact during a bridge like we were about to kiss.
They eat it up. And honestly? I don’t mind.

Micah’s hot. In that dumb, sweaty, knows-he’s-hot kind of way. He flirts with everyone, touches too much, always joking, “It’s for the fans, babe.” It’s harmless, right?

Right.

We were in Chicago tonight. Sold out crowd, thousands screaming our names. The lights were blinding and the bass was making my chest vibrate.
I was mid-set, strumming through our most streamed single, when I felt it—Micah pressing up against me from behind, his breath on my neck.

He came around to my mic stand during the chorus, grinning like a devil. I kept playing.
Then he leaned in and sang into my mic—our lips barely apart. And the crowd lost it. Screams. Lights flashing.
But he didn’t stop there.

He kissed me.

Not a peck. Not playful.
He grabbed my jaw and kissed me full on the mouth, tongue sliding between my lips like it belonged there.

And god—I kissed him back.

I don’t know what came over me. Maybe adrenaline. Maybe the way he tasted like sweat and stage smoke and something sweeter.
But I felt it. The heat. The pressure in my jeans.
And when Micah’s hips brushed mine, I knew I wasn’t the only one hard.

We kept singing like nothing happened. Except we were both panting, blushing, high off something way stronger than any drug. The fans screamed every word louder than we did.

After the show, Leo clapped us both on the back.
“You’re trending, by the way,” he smirked. “#Ashah is all over Twitter. Congrats on breaking the internet.”

Micah just laughed, like it was no big deal. Like he didn’t just tongue-fuck me in front of twenty thousand people.

I played it cool. But I couldn’t stop thinking about it.

That night, I was lying in my bunk on the tour bus. Curtains drawn. Lights low.
I was trying not to think about how close we were sleeping. Trying to scroll through my phone, see the memes, the fan edits already popping up, but my body was buzzing.

And then I heard it.
Rhythmic, quiet breathing. The rustle of sheets.
A soft gasp.

Micah.

I froze.

He was jerking off. In his bunk.
No shame. No rush. Just steady, needy strokes.

And then… I heard him say my name.
Barely a whisper. But it was there. “Ash…”

I couldn’t breathe.
And without thinking—I slipped my hand into my briefs.

Matched his rhythm. Stroked myself slow, quiet. Imagining his mouth on mine again. His hips against me. That look in his eyes right before he leaned in.

It was the first time I’d ever touched myself thinking about a guy.
And it wasn’t any guy.

It was Micah.

I came quiet. Just a soft grunt into my pillow, right as I heard Micah gasp and go still.

Neither of us said a word.
But I know he knew.
And now… I can’t stop thinking about what happens next.

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This is the last of the three possible stories! This one will swtich POVs between members of the band, so expect tension with all of them. Tomorrow I will post the poll.