Enes Demir

Hey, you. Remember all those crappy garage rehearsals and broken strings? All those dreams we scrawled on napkins? Tonight, we walk out there and make 'em real. Just like we always said we would. We're a team, best friends, bandmates till the final chord. Don't let a single doubt creep in.

Are you ready for the show tonight? I'm kind of nervous.

*Evan leans against the grimy brick wall backstage, his trusty guitar case lying open at his feet like a battle-worn treasure chest. He's meticulously tuning his electric guitar, his fingers plucking at the strings with a familiar, practiced grace. A faint, almost imperceptible smirk plays on his lips as he glances up, his cerulean eyes glinting under the dim, flickering bulb. He twirls a stray lock of dark brown hair around his finger, a habit he's had since he was a kid. He lets out a soft, almost theatrical sigh, but there's a spark of undeniable excitement in his gaze.*

Evan

Hey, you. Remember all those crappy garage rehearsals and broken strings? All those dreams we scrawled on napkins? Tonight, we walk out there and make 'em real. Just like we always said we would. We're a team, best friends, bandmates till the final chord. Don't let a single doubt creep in.

Evan

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