Rain's POV
The roar was deafening.
Sixty thousand people. Lights like stars. Our name in fire across the stadium screen.MARS – WORLD ON FIRE TOUR – NIGHT FIVE: PARIS.
Sky was spinning at center stage, mic raised, hair like a living thing behind her—golden, untamed, perfect. She looked like a freaking goddess.Night was killing it on bass, dark hair whipping as she headbanged, fingers fast as lightning.
And Day—
"OH MY GOD!"He stopped mid-drum beat as something pink and lacy hit his shoulder and slid down his arm.
A bra.Someone threw a goddamn bra at my drummer.
The crowd lost their minds.
Day blinked, stared at it, then held it up like a trophy. "I dedicate this to my mother."
Sky wheezed into the mic. "I TOLD YOU HE WAS THE SEXY ONE."
The audience went feral.
I was supposed to be the serious one—the composed one, the cool frontman—but even I was laughing. Genuinely, stupidly laughing. My guitar hung off my shoulder, forgotten for a second.
Day tossed the bra into the wings. "I'm keeping it. Tour souvenir."
Night leaned over her mic, deadpan. "Add it to your collection."
Sky gasped. "YOU HAVE A COLLECTION?"
Day just grinned. "World tour, baby."
I strummed a chord and stepped back into the mic, shaking my head. "Y'all are unhinged."
Sky twirled beside me, her voice honey and wildfire. "You love us."
I looked at her—smiling, flushed, alive.
I looked at my band. My family.And yeah. I really did.
"I do," I said into the mic.And the crowd screamed like we'd just dropped an album.
The end.
Signing off.
Siddhii Singh.