Three days.
That was all the time they had left before the live performance.
Three days to polish everything — timing, flow, chemistry — and still, somehow, make it feel alive.
In theory, they were better than ever. Zane and the Trio had reached a rare kind of synergy, their harmonies natural, their rhythms tight. After all they'd been through — bounding moments, breakdowns, misunderstandings — they were more bonded now than they had ever been. Zane, especially, had blended into the Trio with ease. His parts lifted Sunny's voice beautifully, danced between Laura's harmonies, and kept pace with Axel's grounding presence.
But something still felt off.
Not technically. They'd hit every box Laura had marked in her notebook over the past weeks:
The second chorus transition — now smoother after three rewrites.
Sunny's high harmony in the bridge — finally balanced, no longer straining.
Zane's solo footwork during the choreography — sharper, confident.
The final key change timing — rehearsed until it became muscle memory.
Everything they could measure… was right.
And yet…
The studio emptied slowly. Zane was the first to bounce, pulling Sunny along by the hand with a charming smile and a promise to practice more later. Sunny waved, tired but glowing, her laugh echoing faintly as they disappeared into the hallway.
Laura remained behind, flipping back through her rehearsal notes in silence.
Something's missing.
She couldn't name it. Couldn't circle it in red ink or fix it with another arrangement tweak. It wasn't the rhythm, or the choreography, or even the delivery. It was something beneath all of that — something deeper.
A kind of spark.
The kind that couldn't be written into a score.
She let out a sigh and leaned forward onto the piano, arms folded, her forehead resting lightly against the keys. The soft, dissonant clunk of the notes breaking under her weight echoed in the empty hall.
A moment passed.
Then, movement.
She heard footsteps, slow and quiet — not hurried like the others. She didn't lift her head. But she felt him.
Axel.
He didn't speak. Just stood behind her for a second. Then, with that quiet Axel sort of grace, he sat down beside her on the piano bench. Not too close. Just… present.
She finally looked up.
Their eyes met — hers tired and puzzled, his steady and soft.
"…You stayed," she murmured.
He gave a small nod. "Could tell something was eating at you."
She exhaled again, the weight in her chest heavier than she wanted to admit. "It's stupid. Everything's fine. Everyone's improved so much. Even Zane's become a team player, somehow." She smiled faintly, half a joke, half a marvel.
"Hey," Axel said, his voice low and even. "You can think it's good… and still feel something's off."
Her eyes dropped to her open notebook. Pages of crossed-out melodies, annotations, tempo notes. So many years spent chasing perfection. She thought she'd finally loosened her grip.
"I don't know what it is," she admitted. "The notes are right. The flow is right. We're good. But it's like… there's a piece missing. Some thread I can't find."
Axel looked at her hands, still resting lightly over the piano keys. Then his eyes moved back to hers.
"Maybe it's not about fixing something," he said. "Maybe we just need to feel it again. Not the sound. The reason we started making music together in the first place."
Laura blinked.
She looked back at the piano, slowly pressing a soft chord beneath her fingers.
It was true. They'd spent so long rehearsing, refining, tightening… Maybe too long. Maybe they'd lost sight of what that final piece really was.
Not polish. Not perfection.
Connection.
Emotion. Risk. Vulnerability.
Music that could fall apart — and still matter.
She turned to him, finally letting herself soften, even just a little. "You always know what to say, don't you?"
Axel shrugged. "Only when it's about you."
And then they sat there, side by side on the bench. Not rushing to fix anything. Not rushing at all.
Just… letting the music breathe again.
---
They wandered the streets aimlessly.
Laura didn't want to go home. Not with this hollow feeling trailing her like a shadow. She'd asked Axel to stay with her that afternoon — not because she had anything planned, but because she couldn't bear being left alone with her thoughts.
He hadn't hesitated. He never did. With his hands tucked in his jacket pockets and quiet steps beside hers, he offered the kind of silence that didn't press. The kind that simply… stayed.
They didn't talk much. The rhythm of the city was enough for now — the muted buzz of passing traffic, the warmth of sunlight threading through gray buildings, a breeze that tugged at her pants. Laura didn't know where they were heading. She wasn't even sure she wanted a destination.
And then she saw them.
Across the small plaza just ahead — half-shielded by a row of flowering hedges — Zane and Sunny.
Zane was crouched slightly, holding his camera up, adjusting the lens with comical focus. Sunny stood just a few feet away, laughing behind her hand. Her cheeks were pink, not just from the breeze. She'd brought a notebook with her — of course she had — and had flipped to a blank page, sketching with a colored pencil as she stole glances at Zane between strokes.
He must've just shown her how to use the camera. She looked flustered — concentrated — trying to snap a shot of something off to the side, and Zane gently adjusted her hand on the camera, saying something that made her burst out laughing again.
It was like watching light dance between two people.
Laura slowed her steps without realizing it.
Axel noticed — his gaze following hers.
He didn't say anything, but he felt her stillness.
She stood for a moment longer, just… watching.
There was something about it that twisted in her chest. Not jealousy — not really. But something wistful. Something that made her hand clutch at the strap of her bag a little tighter.
Emotion.
It came to Sunny so naturally. To Zane, too — whether through music, or lens, or smile. Their performance, flawed as it had been weeks ago, was always felt.
And Laura?
She had always performed like a machine. Flawless. Controlled. Precise.
Emotionless.
Her inner perfectionist whispered: You don't need to feel it. Just execute. That's what you're good at.
But another voice — softer, smaller — asked: But don't you want to?
Wouldn't it be beautiful if she could learn to feel? Not for the sake of performance. But for herself. To breathe, not just play. To connect, not just impress.
Her chest ached.
She turned to Axel quietly. "Do you think... it's too late to change the way I play?"
He looked at her, surprised for only a moment. Then said, simply, "No."
Laura's eyes flicked back to the plaza. Zane snapped a picture of Sunny mid-laugh. She immediately tried to steal the camera back.
"I think I want to try," she whispered. "Even if it's just for three days… I want to see what it feels like."
Axel's voice was warm. "Then let's make these three days count."
She didn't respond right away. But her fingers reached out and brushed his.
It wasn't a full answer.
But it was a start.
---
Sunny glanced over her shoulder, her laughter still lingering from Zane's last ridiculous photography pose. She was mid-turn back to her sketchpad when her eyes caught something — or rather, someone — in the distance.
Her heart skipped.
Laura and Axel.
They were standing just past the plaza's edge, halfway behind a cluster of low hedges, clearly not expecting to be seen. Laura looked frozen for a second, caught in that silent observation. Axel stood beside her like a quiet shadow, hands still tucked in his jacket.
Sunny blinked, hesitated.
She wasn't sure why she hesitated. Maybe part of her still felt… shy. Exposed. This moment with Zane felt so personal, so them — soft, creative, just a little ridiculous — and for a heartbeat, she wasn't sure she was ready to share it.
But then she shook the thought off and smiled.
They were her friends. They were family.
And even if her cheeks burned a little redder, she raised her hand and waved them over.
Laura flinched slightly at the gesture, her posture tightening with the kind of instinct that told her she'd been caught. She looked at Axel — question in her eyes, maybe even apology — but he just gave a light shrug.
And reached for her hand.
She stared at it for a breath. Then, quietly, placed her fingers in his.
Their hands fit without force.
They walked forward together.
Zane, who had been fiddling with the camera settings again, turned when he noticed Sunny waving. And though he kept his usual nonchalant air, the corner of his mouth curled with quiet satisfaction.
He knew who she'd seen before she even looked.
When he spotted Axel and Laura walking toward them — hand in hand — he gave Sunny a knowing smirk.
"Well well," he said, camera resting at his hip, "didn't expect an audience."
Sunny gave him a nudge with her elbow. "Behave."
He grinned. "No promises."
As Laura and Axel approached, there was a brief pause — not awkward, not tense. Just… real. A soft acknowledgment of everything they'd each been going through.
Zane was the first to break it. "We were, uh, just indulging Sunny's inner artist-slash-photographer."
"She's got potential," he added, nudging her. "Sketching and shooting."
Sunny rolled her eyes but smiled.
Laura returned the smile, though hers was smaller, thoughtful. "I could say the same about you two."
Axel glanced down at their joined hands and gave Laura's a small squeeze — grounding, easy.
And somehow, in that shared moment — with sunlight warming the pavement, sketchbook pages rustling, camera still humming from the last shutter click — everything felt just a little more in place.
Even if it wasn't perfect yet… it was good.
And maybe that was enough.
---
They lingered in the square longer than any of them had planned. But time didn't seem to mind.
Zane fiddled with angles and light, chasing golden streaks across stone benches and tree branches while Sunny followed along behind him, her sketchpad resting on her knees whenever they paused. She switched between drawing the scenery and catching fleeting expressions — Zane's furrowed brow as he squinted into the lens, Axel's far-off gaze when he thought no one was looking, the way Laura's hand idly fidgeted with the edge of her sweater when she wasn't speaking.
The afternoon unfolded slowly, comfortably. They didn't talk about rehearsals. Or performances. Or what came next.
They just were.
At one point, Zane turned his lens toward Laura and Axel, who had sat down together on the low stone wall surrounding the plaza's central fountain. Laura noticed the motion — the brief glint of the lens lifting — and immediately froze.
Her instinct was to wave it off. Politely decline. She was still reeling from the feeling that she didn't know how to feel properly, let alone be captured in a photo that might try to say something she couldn't.
But Axel didn't even blink. He just leaned back a little, resting his elbow on the stone behind her, expression calm and relaxed.
That ease... it settled something in her.
So she didn't protest.
The shutter clicked.
Zane looked at the preview screen, then grinned. "You two photograph suspiciously well. Like, magazine cover well."
Laura let out a breath she didn't realize she'd been holding, offering a small smile. "Please don't put that on a billboard."
Zane winked. "No promises."
The others laughed. Even Laura.
And for that moment — under the warm sun, surrounded by the quiet rhythm of creativity and company — it didn't matter that everything wasn't perfect. That emotions were still raw and uncertain.
They had this.
A snapshot of something real.
---
Just as Zane lowered the camera, dusting a smudge off the lens, Sunny perked up.
"Wait—group photo," she announced, eyes lighting up.
Zane blinked. "Huh?"
She pointed at the camera with a grin. "You've got a timer function on that thing, right? Let's use it."
Laura raised an eyebrow. "Seriously?"
Sunny nodded enthusiastically. "Seriously. We never take any photos together. This feels like a memory."
Zane glanced between them, then shrugged. "Alright, Sunshine. You've got sixty seconds to pose."
He set the camera carefully on a nearby bench, adjusting the angle with practiced precision, then jogged over to join them.
Axel stayed relaxed on the wall. Laura stood beside him stiffly at first, unsure where to put her hands — until Sunny looped her arm through hers on one side and reached for Zane's hand on the other, pulling everyone closer together.
"Smile, or don't. Just be," she said, her voice quieter now, gentler — like she was capturing something deeper than a photo.
A soft beep clicked down the seconds.
10… 9… 8…
Zane leaned slightly into Sunny, and she turned toward him with a bright, open grin.
Laura's body still felt awkward, like her limbs didn't quite belong — but then Axel's hand rested lightly on her back. Not possessive. Just steady.
She didn't smile. But she softened.
3… 2… 1—
Click.
The shutter captured it all — the almost-summer air, the tangled limbs, the hesitation, the laughter that came after.
A moment, sealed in light.
---
As they gathered around to peek at the camera screen, Sunny clapped her hands together with sudden excitement.
"Oh! I almost forgot—" she turned to face them all, eyes gleaming, "there's a festival happening tonight! I heard some people talking about it earlier."
Zane blinked. "A festival?"
She nodded, tugging gently on his sleeve. "Yeah! Kind of low-key, but local. Food stalls, lights, music — it's supposed to be super cute."
Axel arched a brow. "You're proposing we ditch rehearsal prep for festival snacks?"
Sunny shrugged, her smile playful. "We've earned a break. And we're already together. Why not make the most of it?"
Laura looked hesitant. "Tonight? Isn't that a little spontaneous?"
"That's the point," Sunny grinned, nudging her arm. "Come on, Laura. You made it through a group photo. You can survive one night of chaotic fun."
Zane chuckled, slipping the camera strap over his shoulder. "I mean… if we're already out…"
Axel folded his arms, amused. "Guess it's settled, then."
Sunny beamed, practically bouncing on her feet. "Yes! Festival clothes, let's go! We can meet back here in an hour?"
"An hour?" Zane laughed. "What are you planning to wear?"
She winked. "Something appropriately magical."
---
An hour later, the four of them met up again at the corner near the studio, where the city lights had just started to flicker on for the evening.
Zane was the first to arrive, camera already slung around his neck, his hair messily brushed and sleeves rolled up casually. He looked around, checking his phone — then froze mid-scroll when he caught a glimpse of movement from across the street.
Sunny.
She came walking toward them with a soft skip in her step, dressed in a flowy skirt that shimmered faintly with tiny embroidered stars, a cropped pastel jacket that hugged her waist, and her hair pulled half-up with sparkly clips that twinkled under the amber glow of the lamplight. Around her neck, a tiny moon pendant caught the light as she moved, and she twirled once when she saw Zane staring.
"Something appropriately magical," she teased, voice light.
Zane's jaw nearly hit the pavement.
"You've gotta be kidding me," he muttered, eyes trailing over her. "I asked what you were planning to wear, not if you were gonna destroy me on sight."
Sunny giggled, cheeks pink. "Too much?"
"Not enough," he said instantly, walking toward her like he'd just spotted a miracle. "Holy— Sunny, you look like you walked out of a daydream."
Behind them, Axel and Laura arrived, just in time to catch Zane visibly flustered and Sunny proudly glowing.
Laura raised an eyebrow. "Is he broken?"
Axel smirked. "That depends. Are we rating her entrance out of ten?"
"Eleven," Zane said, still staring.
Sunny covered her face with her hands, laughing. "Okay, okay, let's go before I actually turn into glitter and float away."
---
The festival lit up the streets like a dream — lanterns strung across vendor stalls, casting soft golden light over the cobbled paths. Music floated in the air, blending with laughter and chatter as crowds drifted from booth to booth.
The group strolled through it all, the four of them relaxed in a way they hadn't been in weeks.
Zane and Sunny were the most animated, of course — darting between food stands and game booths like excited kids. Sunny tugged Zane toward a ring toss, where she won a tiny plush duck on her third try. Zane, not to be outdone, insisted on trying the fishing-for-prizes booth, only to fall comically short and nearly knock a bucket over.
"You're supposed to fish for them, not scare them into surrender," Sunny giggled, holding the duck under her arm.
Meanwhile, Axel was drawn toward the shooting game, a row of tin cans stacked precariously with toy rifles ready. He stepped up casually — and hit all the targets in a single smooth go, barely even blinking.
The booth worker whistled. "Been here before?"
Axel just shrugged. "First time."
Laura stood beside him, arms folded, lips twitching with amusement. She wasn't big on games, but she enjoyed watching them play. The food, however, was a different story.
The street vendors were offering skewers, sizzling noodles, and deep-fried mystery bites that all smelled incredible… but to Laura's sensitive stomach, it was a landmine. Still, with Axel checking on her with every new bite she dared, she managed a few safe options — grilled vegetables, a mild rice dish, and a tiny mochi treat that Sunny insisted she try.
"I'm okay," she said softly to Axel at one point, catching the way he was watching her mid-bite.
He nodded, but didn't stop glancing every now and then, just in case. She appreciated it more than she let on.
Then, somewhere between stalls and the lantern-lit footbridge, they heard someone call out.
"Sunny?"
Sunny turned, and her face lit up. "Amelia!"
Amelia approached with a couple of friends in tow, casually dressed in a hoodie and jeans, a warm drink in one hand and a sparkler crackling gently in the other. Her gaze flicked first to Zane and Sunny's interlocked hands — then to Axel and Laura standing shoulder to shoulder — and something in her expression softened… but didn't quite settle.
"Didn't expect to run into the whole lineup," she said with a teasing smile that didn't fully reach her eyes.
"Fate," Zane shrugged.
"Or festivals being magnetic," Sunny added, nudging his side.
"Both," Amelia said after a beat, her tone warm but cautious.
They chatted for a few minutes, exchanging quick stories about their favorite booths, Zane and Sunny reenacting a dramatic failure at the ring toss that had Axel rolling his eyes fondly. Amelia even laughed — genuinely — but when her friends waved her over, she touched Sunny's arm and leaned in close.
"You seem happier," she murmured. "I'm really glad."
Sunny nodded, her eyes soft. "Thanks. I am."
Amelia started to pull away — but not before casting one last look at Zane. It was subtle, but clear. A silent message. A warning.
Don't mess this up again.
Zane caught it. He didn't flinch, didn't look away. He just nodded, once — almost imperceptibly.
Sunny noticed the exchange. Her hand squeezed his a little tighter.
And then Amelia was gone, disappearing into the crowd with her friends and her sparkler, leaving behind the lingering scent of caramel popcorn and the glow of a protective kind of love — the kind that never fully lets its guard down.
The group wandered on — bellies full, laughter trailing, and something unspoken sitting gently between them.
---
The night had deepened into velvet blue, the air cooling as lanterns flickered and laughter gave way to music echoing from the festival square.
They found a spot on a small grassy hill just beyond the bustle — quiet, a little removed, with a clear view of the sky. Zane spread his jacket on the grass and pulled Sunny gently down with him. Laura sat nearby, her legs tucked neatly to one side, while Axel stretched out beside her, arms crossed behind his head, the flicker of a rare, lazy smile on his lips.
And then —
Boom.
The first firework lit the sky in white and gold.
Sunny leaned into Zane's side, her head resting against his shoulder. His arm found its way around her without thinking. She felt his heartbeat through the fabric.
Axel's eyes followed the sky, but now and then, his gaze drifted to Laura. She didn't say much. She never did during moments like this. But when a particularly vivid burst of violet spread overhead, she tilted her head, caught him watching, and gave him the faintest, unreadable smile.
The fireworks continued, each one brighter and louder than the last — cascading colors that painted the sky, that reflected in their eyes, that echoed like applause for everything they'd been through and everything still ahead.
Sunny glanced up at Zane. "Think we'll ever have a moment like this again?"
Zane looked down at her, his expression soft, unguarded. "I hope so. But even if we don't… I won't forget this one."
Laura didn't say anything. But when Axel reached out and gently rested his hand over hers, she didn't pull away.
And above them, the sky bloomed and bloomed and bloomed.
---
That evening, Axel and Laura stayed together again.
She didn't try to explain why — just murmured, "I don't think I can handle going home tonight…" — and that was enough. Axel didn't ask questions. He just nodded once, and held the door open for her when they got to his building.
Back at his apartment, Laura sank onto the couch. The street cat, usually aloof, slinked over and curled at her feet, a small, warm weight grounding her. She reached down absently, fingers brushing through its fur.
In the kitchen, Axel moved quietly, sleeves rolled up as he began preparing dinner. The sound of the knife against the cutting board, the clinking of spice jars — it all blurred into the background for Laura, until something sharp cut through her haze.
The smell.
At first, it was nothing. Just the warmth of cooked oil. Garlic, maybe. But then came something richer, denser — and her stomach flipped.
Her breath caught.
She didn't know if she was imagining it — the nausea creeping up her chest — but the scent seemed to grow stronger by the second. Heavy. Consuming. Her throat tightened and she hunched forward slightly, pressing the heel of her hand to her temple, trying to ground herself.
Axel noticed instantly.
He stepped into the living room, brows furrowed with concern, towel still draped over his shoulder. "Hey—Laura?" he said gently. "What's wrong?"
She shook her head, but her eyes betrayed her. Unfocused. Overwhelmed.
He crouched beside her, voice low. "Is it the food? You look a little pale."
"I… think so. I don't know," she murmured, fingers brushing her lips. "It's like I can… smell it too much. And now everything's just…"
"Too much," Axel finished for her, softly.
She nodded, not trusting herself to speak.
Without another word, he stood and returned to the kitchen. Within moments, the stove was off, the window cracked open, and a soft breeze carried the heaviness out into the city night. He returned with a glass of water, placing it on the coffee table before settling next to her — not touching her, just close.
The silence stretched between them like a blanket.
And after a few moments, Laura whispered, "I'm sorry."
Axel tilted his head. "Don't be."
She glanced down at the cat, now curled against her shins, then back at him.
"I think… I'm just starting to feel again. And I don't know how to handle it."
Axel reached out and, without forcing it, rested his hand gently over hers.
"You don't have to figure it out tonight," he said. "Just breathe."
---
That night, as the soft hum of the city bled through the window and the warmth of the blankets pressed gently against her skin, Laura lay awake beside Axel — her gaze fixed on the ceiling above.
Feelings.
She hadn't realized how loud they could be. How consuming. For so long, her world had been quiet. Muted. Controlled. She had told herself that numbness was easier — that it kept her grounded, efficient, safe. And maybe it had. But now, as something unfamiliar stirred beneath her skin — excitement, fear, a fragile thread of hope — she wasn't so sure anymore.
The thought of opening that door completely… terrified her.
But maybe she didn't have to throw it wide open. Maybe she could just… crack it. Let things trickle in. Slowly. Carefully.
She turned her head and looked at Axel. He was asleep, breath steady, face soft in the moonlight. He looked younger like this. Unburdened.
Watching him, something loosened in her chest. Something she didn't quite understand yet — but maybe didn't need to, not tonight.
She shifted closer, brushing a stray curl from his forehead before leaning in to place a gentle kiss there — featherlight and unhurried.
"Thank you," she whispered, voice barely audible. "For always being here."
And with that, she settled in beside him, resting her head against the pillow they shared. Still scared. Still unsure. But maybe — just maybe — she wasn't alone in it anymore.
---
That morning, Axel awoke to an empty apartment — the spot beside him still faintly warm. At first, he blinked in confusion, the quiet stillness wrapping around him like fog. But then he noticed the folded slip of paper on the nightstand, scrawled in familiar handwriting:
"Off to practice…Yesterday… inspired me."
A slow smile crept across his face as he traced the words with his fingers. Short. Simple. But more meaningful than Laura probably realized.
---
By the time Axel arrived at the studio, the others were already there. He paused in the doorway, quiet footsteps unheard over the soft melody filling the room.
Laura sat at the piano, eyes closed, fingers dancing effortlessly over the keys. The music was familiar — something she'd played before — but it… sounded different this time. Not technically different. Not slower or faster. But fuller. Looser. Like it was breathing.
It wasn't perfect.
But it had heart.
And for the first time in a long time, Axel didn't just hear her music.He felt it.