Chapter Text
ACORN’S POV
Dear Diary,
This is it. No more practices. No more sleepless nights. Just us, the lights, the crowd, and the chaos.
Backstage
We were wrecks. Ivan was pacing like a caged lion, Luka kept tuning his bass even though it was already tuned, Mizi had gone completely silent (a rarity), and Sua was praying to every deity she could name under her breath. Hyuna didn’t fidget, but her icy calm somehow made it worse.
And Till—our star, our emo prince—sat perfectly still, staring at his guitar like it was the only thing keeping him tethered.
Then, suddenly, he stood.
“Circle up,” he said.
We huddled close, like kids at a summer camp instead of rookies about to face a screaming underground crowd. Till looked at each of us in turn, and for once, his voice didn’t wobble.
“Thank you. For doing this with me. For saving this dream.” He paused, swallowed, then added: “And if we lose, I’ll... buy you all ramen?”
It was the weakest, most Acorn-level joke imaginable. And it worked.
We cracked. Laughter spilled out, the tension cracking like glass under a hammer. Luka snorted. Mizi giggled until she choked. Even Hyuna’s lip twitched upward.
Ivan, though—he didn’t laugh. He leaned forward, cupped Till’s cheek, and kissed him. Quick. Fierce. Grounding.
Till froze, cheeks flushing red, but he didn’t pull away. And when Ivan stepped back, Till’s fingers tightened around his guitar, steadier than before.
The Rival Band
Before we could take the stage, the competitor band passed us in the corridor. Black jackets, spiked collars, glares sharp enough to cut glass. They looked less like musicians and more like goons hired to shake people down for lunch money.
They sneered, shoulder-checking Luka as they passed.
But then—Ibani. Our son. Our feline savior.
He stepped forward, arched his back, hissed with the fury of a thousand lions, and swatted the air with his claws.
The scary band literally flinched. One even muttered, “Bro, it’s feral.” And just like that, they scattered down the hall.
Ibani sat proudly, tail flicking like royalty.
Dear Diary, I would die for this cat.
The Stage
The lights blinded us. The crowd roared, chanting our name— Alien Stage, Alien Stage, Alien Stage.
For a moment, nerves strangled us. Ivan’s sticks slipped. Luka’s first note wobbled. Even Till’s voice trembled.
But then—it happened.
Till’s guitar string snapped mid-song, a loud twang cutting through the speakers. The crowd gasped.
Till didn’t falter. He grinned. Wild. Free. A spark in the dark. And he slammed into the next chord like it was planned, his voice rising, stronger, sharper, commanding.
And just like that—the ice shattered.
Ivan’s drumming hit harder, louder. Hyuna’s keys sliced like lightning. Luka swaggered into his bassline, Sua’s harmonies soared, Hyunwoo shredded the guitar like he was born to do it. Even Mizi’s triangle rang out like a war cry.
And Ibani? He leapt on stage halfway through, landing perfectly on the percussion setup. His claws smacked the cymbals in perfect time, like he’d been born for this.
The crowd lost their minds.
Campus Chatter → Music → LIVE THREAD: ALIEN STAGE IS ON STAGE
🎤 bandgeek101: THEY’RE ON THEY’RE ON THEY’RE ON OMGGGGGGGG
🐾 catlover44: IS THAT A CAT ON STAGE???? IS THAT A CAT??
👑 queenstan: Till just snapped a guitar string mid-song and KEPT GOING??? Rock god. Rock deity.
🎭 dramaking77: Ivan looks like he’s going to break the drums in half with sheer force. Also leather pants. You’re welcome.
🍵 teaspiller22: Hyunwoo’s eyeliner deserves its own award. I’m crying.
🐝 cheerqueen98: NO STOP THEY’RE ACTUALLY GOOD. LIKE GOOD GOOD.
📢 loudandproud: ALIEN STAGE > EVERYONE ELSE. I SAID IT.
On stage, we weren’t just chaos.
We were alive.
Till’s voice carried us, his cracked string turning into a legend mid-performance. Ivan’s eyes never left him, every beat syncing like they shared the same heartbeat. And the rest of us—we weren’t just background. We were fire, we were thunder, we were the storm behind him.
For the first time in forever, I wasn’t just Tree-kun, or Cowbell Guy, or Chaos Witness #1.
I was part of something unstoppable.
And the crowd knew it.
Note to self:
One: Ibani is the best percussionist alive.
Two: If Till doesn’t bel
ieve he’s a rockstar after this, I’ll fight him.
Three: Dear Diary, we didn’t just play tonight. We conquered.