What Happens Backstage - Part 5

Ash POV

Jealousy’s a weird emotion. It doesn’t feel like anger. It feels like guilt wearing a tighter shirt.

And tonight, it’s suffocating me.

Watching River kiss Jett, the way his hips moved, how he melted into it like it wasn’t their first time—it messed with my head more than I want to admit. I should be happy for them, right? But I’m not. I’m restless. Horny. And I feel… forgotten.

Which is stupid, because I was the one who started the whole thing with Micah.
I let him kiss me on stage. I let him touch me. I liked it. Still do.

But none of that explains why I can't stop thinking about River.

Maybe it’s because, before all this fan service and fake dating and tongue on stage...
River was mine.

FLASHBACK – Six Months Ago

We were holed up in a rented house in L.A., working on demos and drinking too much Red Bull. The others had gone out, but River had stayed behind, and so had I.

I knocked on his door, curious why he skipped the party. When I pushed it open, I found him sitting on the floor, knees pulled to his chest, hoodie sleeves over his hands.

He looked small. Shaken.

“Hey,” I said, crouching down. “What’s going on?”

He didn’t answer right away. Then, in a broken voice, “I don’t think I can do this forever.”

It hit me like a punch to the chest.

“Do what?”

He shrugged. “Be seen. All the time. Be… famous.”

He looked up at me with glassy eyes, cheeks flushed in a way that wasn’t from crying. “I miss being invisible.”

I sat beside him, close enough that our shoulders touched.

“You’re not invisible,” I whispered. “You’re the heart of this band. Even if they don’t always see it.”

He turned to me. “You see me?”

“Always.”

Then the silence got heavy. His breath caught. His hand brushed mine.

And suddenly we were kissing.

Not just kissing—
Clinging.
Fingers in hair, clothes pulling tight. Our mouths searching, gasping.
He was so warm. His lips tasted like mint and panic. He moaned into my mouth when I grabbed his waist.

I remember pressing him back onto the floor, my body hovering over his, our hips aligning, hearts pounding like speakers in a dark club.

We didn’t go all the way. But we got close. And when he whispered my name that night, it felt like I was the only one in his universe.

That was the last night we were that close.

Soon after, the fans started shipping me with Micah. The label leaned in hard.
I leaned in harder.

And River drifted away.

Present

Now Micah’s in front of me, lips already on mine, his hands under my shirt as we “rehearse” more fan service. It’s become our excuse to grind out our tension.

His tongue slides into my mouth. His palm finds my cock through my sweats. He knows exactly what he’s doing.

I groan, rutting into his hand, and slide my own down to return the favor.
We’re kissing rough. Moaning, biting, pulling at each other’s clothes.

Micah’s shirt is off. His skin’s flushed. His abs flex as I stroke him.
But in my head—
It’s not Micah anymore.
It’s River.

His lips.
His soft moans.
His hips under mine.

“Fuck,” I breathe, closing my eyes. “River…”

Micah freezes for a second. Then starts jerking me harder, like he didn’t hear it. Or like he did and doesn’t care.

We both cum—fast, messy, groaning into each other’s shoulders. My cum spills across my abs. His hits the inside of my thigh.

Micah falls back, panting. “You’re getting better at this.”

I don’t answer.

I just stare up at the ceiling, my heart still thudding.

I have to talk to River.
I have to fix this before I lose him completely.