Collar. [Stalker!Yandere!Singer]

I. Halo's Shadow.

The band was called Veil, and the name felt like a secret you weren't supposed to say aloud.

To be a fan of Veil wasn't just to listen to their music; it was to fall into it, to drown willingly in their sound.

At the helm of it all was Vincent Everest Cross, known to his fans simply as Vinnyx, a name that rolled off tongues like a prayer and a curse.

They called him Vinnyx because of the way he ended every performance, signing his name on the skin of fans with a single "X" and a wicked smile, like it was a seal of devotion. It became an obsession—a mark of ownership. People wanted the X, needed it, like it was proof that Vincent had seen them, even for a second.

He was iconic, dangerous in a way that made him irresistible. With pale eyes the color of ice and black ink curls that fell messily across his face, he screamed chaos. The sharp angles of his jawline, the constellation of freckles dusted across his cheekbones, and the tattooed collar that circled his throat made him impossible to ignore. He was arrogant, crass, and untouchable. The tabloids loved him, feeding off his string of broken relationships and rumors of violent outbursts. He wasn't kind, but he wasn't cruel—at least not in the way that left scars anyone could see.

The rest of Veil was no less striking.

Reid Camden, the drummer, was tanned and intense, his blue eyes sharp beneath sun-bleached blonde hair. Damon Wolf, the bassist, was chaos wrapped in pale skin, black hair streaked with white, and a devil-may-care grin that matched his onstage antics. Maximilien Roux, the guitarist, was quieter but no less intense, his French heritage reflected in his perfectly tailored outfits and the cigarette always dangling from his lips. Together, they were unstoppable, their chemistry on stage like the spark before an explosion.

[Name] knew all this. To be honest, she'd looked into the band a bit. It was impossible not to. Vincent Everest Cross was a dangerous thing, his appeal magnetic, and her curiosity had gotten the better of her. She'd seen the articles—how he tore through the music world like a wildfire, leaving both devastation and adoration in his wake. She'd scrolled through the photos, watched the interviews. He was everything the world warned against but made you want anyway.

Still, [Name] wouldn't have gone to the concert on her own. That was Mara's doing. She was Veil's biggest fan, practically a disciple of Vincent Cross. Her walls were plastered with Veil posters, her playlists a shrine to their music. "You're coming," Mara declared when the tickets dropped. "You'll regret it forever if you don't."

Elaine had nodded in agreement, her quieter enthusiasm bubbling under the surface. While Mara loved Vincent for his chaos, Elaine adored him for the artistry, the tragedy in his lyrics. She'd even bought [Name] the ticket, claiming it was her "birthday present," though [Name] knew it was just an excuse to drag her along.

The Hollow was infamous for its gritty charm. The venue was tucked behind a row of graffiti-covered warehouses, its neon sign flickering above the blacked-out windows. Inside, the air reeked of beer, sweat, and cigarette smoke. The walls were covered in peeling posters of past bands, their edges curling with age. It was claustrophobic, packed with bodies pressed too close together, but the energy was electric.

[Name] didn't belong there. Not at The Hollow, not at a Veil concert. But Mara and Elaine wouldn't hear her protests.

Mara was the ringleader, as always. She wore her love for Veil like a badge, her phone case plastered with Vincent's tattooed knuckles and her eyeliner sharp enough to kill. "We're not missing this," she said, tugging on [Name]'s arm as she hesitated at the entrance. "It's Veil. And Vincent Cross is going to be five feet away from us."

Elaine was the quieter counterpart, the one who played peacemaker when Mara's confidence became too much. But even Elaine's brown eyes sparkled with excitement, her usual reserved demeanor replaced with giddy anticipation. She wore a soft velvet dress that caught the dim lights of the venue.