After rehearsal that day, Zane casually suggested a movie night — and to everyone's surprise, Laura agreed.
Sunny had been excited at first. She hadn't been to a cinema in a long time. She was already imagining the smell of popcorn, the neon lights, the cozy seats. But once they stood in front of the snack counter, with all its colorful boxes and sugary smells, she hesitated.
She glanced toward Laura, who was reading the menu board quietly.
"Maybe we don't have to get anything," Sunny said gently, nudging her arm. "We can just enjoy the movie."
But Laura looked at her, then at the display, and her expression didn't close off the way it usually did. In fact, there was the faintest glint of curiosity in her eyes. "What's… white chocolate popcorn?"
Sunny blinked. "Want to try it?"
Laura nodded slowly, almost unsure she meant it — but she did.
They bought a small bag and shared it. And when Sunny offered her a piece of sour candy afterward, Laura took it between her fingers and hesitated only a moment before placing it on her tongue.
She didn't grimace. Didn't pretend. She just… waited.
And maybe it was the tang, or maybe it was her imagination — but it didn't taste like nothing. Not fully.
Sunny had been watching her anxiously, but the moment Laura simply said, "It's interesting," her face lit up.
Axel stayed close, never interfering, just casually brushing his hand against Laura's as they walked, quiet encouragement in his touch.
---
After the movie — some cheesy, fun sci-fi romp — Sunny surprised Laura by reaching for her hand… then hesitated. Instead, she lightly bumped her shoulder against hers.
It wasn't a hug. But Laura understood.
She looked over, and their eyes met.
"Thank you," Sunny said softly. "For trying."
Laura didn't respond right away. She just smiled — faint, but real.
And that was enough.
---
As they walked down the city sidewalk after the movie, the streets glowing under soft evening lights, the group moved in quiet rhythm.Zane and Sunny strolled ahead, fingers intertwined — laughing about something dumb in the film. Behind them, Laura and Axel weren't holding hands, not exactly — but their arms brushed, their hands grazed often, like they were circling the idea.
The chatter faded slightly as Laura's thoughts drifted.
A memory — just a few days ago.
---
She had sat on her bed, legs crossed, laptop open, researching therapists. The idea had floated around her mind for a while now, especially after speaking with the doctor. Anhedonia. That word still echoed in her head sometimes.
At first, she looked up online sessions. It was the popular route. Convenient. But… something about it didn't sit right with her. Impersonal. Disconnected. Cold. The exact thing she wanted to get away from.
She'd almost given up when she found a local listing. A small practice. No flashy branding, no preachy slogans. Just a phone number.
The woman who answered sounded... kind. Not overly cheerful, not clinical. Just calm. Gentle. She didn't ask invasive questions. She listened.
And for the first time, Laura allowed herself to hope that maybe — just maybe — she could trust someone with this part of herself.
Still, part of her skepticism lingered. Were all therapists like this? No. Definitely not. She'd heard enough horror stories. Maybe she was being judgmental… but this woman didn't seem like she fit that mold.
There was just one thing: no open availability until three weeks from now.
Three weeks. That was after the show.
That part stung a little. But maybe… maybe that was okay.
By then, the performance would be behind her. The pressure off her chest. And maybe, for once, she could look inward — not as a performer, not as a leader, not even as someone trying to hold things together.
Just as Laura.
And maybe that could be enough.
---
As the group turned the corner onto a busier street, the night air humming with soft traffic and low city chatter, they suddenly heard a familiar voice call out.
"Well, well... look who's out being all adorable and couple-y tonight."
They turned to see Amelia, dressed casually chic, out with a few friends. She grinned as she approached, hands in her coat pockets, clearly pleased with what she saw.
Zane raised a brow. "What, stalking us now?"
Amelia smirked. "Please. I just have a sixth sense for lovebirds flocking together."
Axel chuckled. "Pretty sure that's not how the saying goes."
"Right, right," she waved it off. "Let me have my moment."
Behind her, Amelia's friends whispered to each other, nudging and subtly pulling out their phones.
"Wait, isn't that Euphony Trio and— is that Zane?"
Amelia caught it, clearly enjoying the attention by proxy. She tilted her head over her shoulder and stage-whispered, "Yeah, yeah, you can take a picture — after I say hi to my actual friends."
Sunny looked both amused and bashful, adjusting her grip on the popcorn bag she still held from the cinema. "You always seem to show up right when things start getting weird."
"Please," Amelia said, flipping her hair dramatically, "I am the weird."
Axel chuckled under his breath. Laura offered a small smile.
Amelia's gaze lingered for a moment — she noticed how Laura stood just a little closer to Axel now, how Sunny leaned into Zane like it came naturally. She didn't say anything about it, not right away.
But she was grinning wider than usual.
"Anyway," she said, stepping back, "I'll leave you to your romantic night walk or whatever this is. But don't be surprised if we run into each other again. Fate works in mysterious, dramatic ways."
"You mean you work in mysterious, dramatic ways," Zane quipped.
"Same difference."
---
As Amelia waved goodbye and rejoined her friends, the group slowly resumed their walk through the city. The buzz of the street faded behind them as they turned onto a quieter path lined with dim lanterns and closed storefronts.
The movie had been good. The company, better. But the air now... it felt heavier, like something unspoken was hovering.
It was Axel who finally voiced it.
"So... two weeks left."
Laura nodded beside him, arms loosely crossed. "We're nearly there."
Zane exhaled through his nose. "Kinda wild, huh? Feels like we just started."
Sunny, walking just ahead with him, gave a quiet smile — one that didn't quite reach her eyes. "You've done more than just 'started,' you know."
Zane blinked. "Yeah?"
She met his gaze, more open than usual. "You changed the way we perform. The way we think about performing. You made us bolder. More fun. More..."She trailed off.
Zane gave a crooked grin. "More chaotic?"
Sunny laughed. "...More alive."
There was a pause. Then Axel added, "We really are grateful. Even if Laura won't say it out loud."
Laura shrugged slightly. "I already did. Once."
"Wow," Zane teased. "I feel blessed."
But after the laughter faded, the silence that followed felt different.
"After the show..." Laura started, thoughtful. "What are your plans?"
Zane scratched the back of his neck. "Ah, well... no contract after this, so... guess I'll head back to my usual stuff. Touring, producing. I've got a few offers lined up already."
Sunny's steps slowed a little.
"Oh," she said. Just that.
Zane looked over at her, reading the change in her expression — small, but noticeable. "Hey. Don't worry, Sunshine."He bumped her shoulder gently. "I'll still come and visit."
She looked up at him, surprised by how soft his voice had gone.
But even with the reassurance... the word visit echoed strangely in her chest. Distant. Temporary.
She'd never had a boyfriend before. Never even really thought she would. And now... she had to think about goodbyes?
She looked down at their joined hands. Still warm. Still there.
But for how long?
"I've never been in a long-distance thing," she murmured.
Zane gave a soft shrug. "Me neither. But... we can figure it out. One day at a time."
Sunny didn't answer right away. But after a long moment, she squeezed his hand.
"Okay."
Because for now... that was enough.
---
After parting ways with Axel and Laura, Sunny and Zane walked a little slower. The streets were quiet now, just the sound of distant traffic and their footsteps in sync.
Neither said much at first — the weight of earlier conversations still quietly hanging between them.
But then, just as they reached the crosswalk before the train station, Sunny's voice broke the silence.
"…Would you mind… some company tonight?"
The words slipped out before she had time to fully think them through.
Zane turned, blinking. "Huh?"
She immediately looked away, pulling her sleeves up to hide her cheeks. "Forget it— I didn't— I mean—"
"Ohhh?" Zane grinned. "Company, huh? How scandalous, Miss Sunshine. And here I thought you were the innocent one."
She groaned quietly. "Zane—"
"I mean, we did just come from a movie date. Should I be expecting popcorn in bed?"
"Zane!" Her voice rose to a whisper-shriek, and she gave him a flustered shove.
He laughed, catching her hand mid-motion and holding it gently. "Hey. I'm teasing."
She peeked up at him, eyes still wide.
His smile softened. "I'd love your company."
The way he said it — no theatrics, no teasing now — made her heart stutter.
"I… just didn't feel like going home yet," she said quietly.
"Then don't."
He guided her hand into his jacket pocket, their fingers twined there as he led her toward the opposite street.
"Come on. Let's go crack open a ramune and argue about which of my mugs has the worst personality."
She let out a shy, breathy laugh. "You're still bitter I have a better mug collection than you."
Zane gave her a playful look. "Bold of you to assume I won't 'accidentally' drop one tonight."
And just like that, the tension dissolved — not completely, but enough for them to walk on, side by side. The city behind them, and something warmer ahead.
---
When they made their way up to Zane's penthouse, the city lights spilling in through the windows, they each cracked open a bottle of ramune — orange flavor, of course. Sunny's favorite.
Well... Zane cracked them open.
She sat cross-legged on the couch, bottle in hand, struggling with the marble as always. "Why do they make it so hard?" she muttered under her breath.
Zane chuckled, already reaching over. "You say this every time."
"You act like I've suddenly developed arm strength."
He took the bottle from her, popped the top with ease, and handed it back like it was the easiest thing in the world.
"Official ramune assistant?" he teased.
She gave him a mock-glare, cheeks puffed. "Don't act like you're not honored."
"Oh, I am honored," he said, settling beside her, their knees brushing. "Orange ramune and you in my apartment? I'm living the dream."
---
As the fizz of the ramune tickled her tongue, Sunny leaned back on the couch, her fingers still brushing Zane's as he rested his hand beside hers. She stared at the bottle cap for a moment — that stubborn marble always getting in her way.
She remembered how Amelia used to open these for her without thinking, tossing the lid back with a wink and a "got you, short stuff." Axel too, usually muttering something about inferior bottle engineering before handing it over like a knight presenting a sword.
And on the rare days neither of them were around… she'd asked Laura. Laura, who had hesitated the first time but still helped, fingers precise and practiced from years of control.
But now… Zane just did it. No questions, no commentary. Just a silent hand reaching for hers.
And it hit her — things had changed.
Not just the bottle-opening. Everything.
Zane had… expanded her world. Pulled her out from behind her screen, slowly but surely. Introduced her to people she might've never spoken to otherwise. Musicians, producers, dancers — loud, chaotic, kind people. His people. And now, maybe… her people too.
Back in school, she'd been popular — admired for her looks, her charm, her energy. But deep down, she'd always questioned why people liked her. Was it really her they liked, or just what she brought to the table?
But now, when she was with them — with him — it didn't feel like she was offering something in exchange for friendship.
It felt like she was seen.
Really, truly seen.
And maybe for the first time in a long time… that was enough.
---
She set her ramune down with a quiet clink, watching the little marble spin at the bottom of the glass.
Zane was laughing at something on his phone, one leg tucked under him on the couch, but she couldn't quite join in. Not yet. Her thoughts had drifted.
Her parents had always been... nice. That was the word people used. Nice. Supportive, in a vague sort of way. They said they were proud of her. They clapped at her achievements. They gave her space to do what she loved.
But… did they ever see her?
Did they ever understand how her mind worked, why she obsessed over colour palettes and chord progressions, or why she stayed up sketching fake concert posters for a group that didn't even exist yet?
They didn't discourage her — no, never that. But they didn't get her, either.
When Laura and Axel invited her to collaborate — back when she was just sunbeam_sketches — she never expected it to turn into something real. At the time, she was only fourteen. They'd agreed to keep her identity concealed, just her artwork and snippets of her voice behind polished videos and layered tracks. Laura had insisted on keeping in touch with her parents too, just to be safe, to make sure everyone was okay with it.
But over time… it wasn't her parents she turned to.
It was Laura who helped her build her confidence when she was too afraid to speak during early meetings. Axel who checked her homework before a big test, always patient even when he didn't understand half of it.
She remembered the first time she broke down crying because a video she'd worked on for days crashed and corrupted. She didn't go to her parents.
She called Axel.
And when he answered, groggy and half-asleep, he still stayed on the phone with her for nearly an hour. Just listening. Just being there.
And maybe… that's when she realized.
Laura and Axel weren't just collaborators. They were the people who saw her. Who heard her.
Maybe they always had been.
---
Sunny had gone quiet again.
Not in the shy, flustered way she got when Zane teased her — but in that gentle, internal sort of silence. The kind that meant her thoughts had wandered somewhere deeper.
Zane noticed.
He watched her from the other side of the couch, legs lazily stretched out, a nearly empty bottle of orange ramune balanced on his knee.
"You okay?" he asked, his voice low and easy.
She gave a small nod. "Yeah," she murmured. "Just thinking."
But he didn't quite buy it.
He glanced toward the window — the city lights spilling over his penthouse balcony, reflecting softly in the glass. The memory of their earlier conversation flickered back to him… about how the project was ending. About how, soon, he'd be back on the road, chasing the next thing.
"Hey," he said carefully, "if you're still thinking about the whole long-distance thing… I mean it. We could make it work. If we both want to. I'm not going anywhere if you don't want me to."
She blinked, startled — then laughed softly.
"No, it's not that," she said. "I mean… maybe a little. But not really."
Zane tilted his head.
"I was just…" She looked down at her bottle, the marble clinking faintly inside. "Thinking about how much you've impacted my life. Not just mine, but the group's. Euphony Trio wouldn't be the same without you. I don't even think I'd be the same."
Zane's expression softened.
"You've changed things," she continued. "You brought in so much energy, so many new people, experiences I'd never have had otherwise. I used to… live behind a screen. I was popular once, back in school, but it was never real. People liked how I looked, how I talked, how I made them feel. Not me."
He nodded slowly. "You said that, on the rooftop at the party. I remember."
She smiled faintly. "Yeah. But ever since joining this group… ever since you joined… I started to feel like people see me now. Not the filtered version. Just… me."
Zane shifted a little closer.
"I've seen that," he said. "You've changed so much since we first met. You're more open. More brave. And it's not just because of me — it's you. You let yourself be seen. That takes guts, Sunshine."
Her face flushed pink, and she instinctively buried her face into the side of the couch cushion.
Zane grinned. "There she goes."
"I hate when you call me brave," she mumbled into the fabric.
"Too bad," he said, nudging her with his knee. "You are."
She peeked out from the pillow, her eyes warm. "Thanks," she whispered.
He leaned over just enough to press a soft kiss to her temple.
"Anytime."
---
They ended up curled up on Zane's couch, wrapped in a blanket, the city lights outside dimmed by the thick windows. The massive TV flickered across their faces, playing a romantic comedy Sunny had picked — a colorful, slightly absurd one with just enough sincerity to pull at the heart.
Zane had made a joking protest at first, teasing her for choosing "the fluffiest option possible," but he hadn't argued too much when she insisted. Now, a bowl of popcorn rested somewhere near their knees — mostly forgotten — and half-empty bottles of ramune sat on the coffee table.
"Okay, I know this is ridiculous," Sunny mumbled during a dramatic kiss scene, "but your TV is, like… biograph levels of big. I'm seriously getting flashbacks."
Zane laughed, low and amused. "Are you saying my TV's stealing cinema jobs now?"
"I'm saying if we dim the lights a bit more and turn on surround sound, we could charge people for tickets."
He chuckled again and looked over at her — her soft smile, her messy hair haloed in the TV's glow. "I'd only do private screenings."
Sunny pretended to roll her eyes, but her blush betrayed her.
The movie carried on. The onscreen couple bickered, then made up — in the way romantic comedies always do — and when the scene softened into intimacy, the atmosphere shifted between them.
Zane didn't comment. He just turned slightly toward her. She mirrored the movement without thinking.
Their faces were closer now, just barely apart. The music in the film swelled as the characters kissed onscreen — and slowly, Zane leaned in.
So did she.
There was no rush. No urgency. Just instinct. Familiar warmth.
Their lips met in a kiss that felt soft but sure — like they had done this a dozen times and still weren't tired of it. Zane's hand slid up to cradle her cheek, his thumb brushing lightly beneath her eye. Sunny let out the smallest breath — somewhere between a sigh and a laugh — as she leaned into it.
When they parted, she smiled up at him, cheeks warm, voice a whisper:
"We're totally just copying the movie."
Zane smirked. "Imitation is the sincerest form of flattery."
She laughed, the sound melting into the quiet between them.
And as the credits began to roll and the final song played, neither of them moved. Their foreheads stayed close. The screen lit their silhouettes, but in this moment, the world outside of the couch didn't matter.
Just them. Just now.
---
The movie faded into silence, the credits long since stopped scrolling. Neither of them moved for a while, but the shift in atmosphere was undeniable. Zane's hand was still resting gently on Sunny's waist. Her head tucked just below his jaw.
When she finally looked up, there was something uncertain — but not fearful — in her eyes.
"Zane…" she murmured, barely audible.
He looked down at her, brushing a thumb along her cheek. "Yeah?"
There was a pause. The kind that held a thousand thoughts. Then, almost timidly: "What if I… wanted more?"
He searched her expression, serious now. "You sure?"
"I'm not sure about anything," she admitted, "but… I trust you. That part I'm sure of."
Zane's heart thudded. It wasn't her nervousness that undid him — it was her honesty. That quiet courage she always had. How she leapt into things when they mattered most, hoping someone would catch her.
He leaned in and kissed her again — slower this time. Not rushed. Just full of meaning.
"I've got you," he whispered against her lips.
Her fingers curled in the fabric of his shirt as they shifted closer. He felt her heartbeat pick up — and his wasn't any calmer.
They moved gently, carefully. Testing the waters with every step, every touch. He never pushed. She never forced herself. It was all instinct — and trust.
At one point, when he reached into the drawer and pulled out a small silver packet, Sunny's eyes widened.
"Zane!" she whispered, scandalized and blushing.
He chuckled. "It's just… in case. You know." He held it up with both hands like he was surrendering. "Emergency preparedness."
Despite her embarrassment, she laughed. That helped.
And when it finally happened — when they crossed that invisible line into something new — it was slow and full of breathless quiet. More than anything, it felt like being seen. Known. Chosen.
Afterward, she lay curled up against him, her head on his chest, listening to the steady beat of his heart. He played with her hair idly, his other hand stroking soft shapes into her back.
She didn't say much.
She didn't need to.
In that silence, she felt everything she needed to feel: safety. Closeness. Care.
Zane broke the silence first, softly: "Still with me?"
She nodded. "Still with you."
And she meant it.