The light of morning filtered through the penthouse windows, soft and golden — too gentle for the weight that sat in Sunny's chest.
Zane stirred beside her, a grin already stretching across his face. "Today's the day," he said, voice low and buzzing with anticipation. "You ready to knock their socks off?"
Sunny blinked sleepily at him, trying to match his enthusiasm with a smile. "Mhm. Ready as I'll ever be."
They were leaving in a few hours, the whole group. And as the morning people they were, they had woken up a little earlier — maybe out of excitement, maybe just to stretch the moment.
Zane sat up, ruffling his messy hair, the adrenaline already kicking in. "All that practice," he said, leaning over her and brushing his lips across her cheek, "is finally gonna pay off."
But Sunny didn't move.
He paused, sensing it. The tension in her shoulders. The way her fingers clutched the sheet too tightly.
"Hey," he whispered, laying back down and curling around her. "Talk to me."
She wanted to. But when she opened her mouth, nothing came out. Her throat felt tight. Instead, she buried her face in his chest, hoping he wouldn't feel the way her jaw clenched, or how her heart raced like a trapped bird.
"I noticed," he said gently, "last night… when I woke up. Your side of the pillow was wet."
Sunny flinched, just barely. He had noticed.
"I didn't say anything," he continued, his voice softer now, lips brushing the crown of her head. "I figured you'd talk when you were ready."
She didn't respond right away. But when she finally did, it was a broken whisper.
"I don't want to lose this…"
His arms tightened around her, and the clock ticked on.
---
Zane kissed her forehead, then gently pulled away from her hold.
"Don't move," he said, voice a little more upbeat now, trying to coax even the smallest smile out of her. "I'm gonna make breakfast. In bed. For you."
Sunny blinked at him through the haze of her emotions. "Zane—"
"Ah ah," he wagged a finger as he stood, shirt slightly rumpled, hair a glorious mess. "No arguments. You just lie there and look pretty and heartbroken and adorable, alright?"
She huffed a small laugh — a tiny one, but it was real. "You're ridiculous."
"Ridiculously amazing," he said, already heading for the kitchen.
Sunny watched him disappear around the corner, a ghost of a smile lingering on her lips. The weight in her chest was still there — heavy and aching — but at least now, it was wrapped in something warm.
She curled back into the blankets, listening to the distant sounds of pans clinking, the hum of a toaster, and Zane's off-key humming floating through the apartment. It didn't fix anything. But it reminded her of why this all hurt so much.
Because it was worth it.
Because he was worth it.
And in that moment, she let herself hope — that even after the curtain closed... maybe this feeling didn't have to end.
Maybe, just maybe, it was only the beginning.
---
Zane reappeared after a while, carefully balancing a tray like it was a prized instrument. He grinned when he caught Sunny peeking over the blanket.
"Behold," he announced proudly, "your pre-show royalty breakfast — featuring slightly over-toasted toast, artistically scrambled eggs, and strawberries that I definitely didn't eat half of while slicing."
Sunny sat up, the blankets slipping down her arms. She couldn't help the soft laugh that bubbled up as she took in the sight: the tray was a little chaotic — mismatched dishes, a folded napkin shaped like a swan (poorly), and a tiny handwritten note on the edge that read:
"For the sunshine in my mornings."
"You're such a sap," she whispered, eyes already stinging again.
Zane set the tray over her lap and climbed in beside her, tucking himself under the covers. "And you love it."
She sniffled and leaned into him. "I really do."
He nudged her temple with his nose. "Eat up. Gotta keep that voice in top shape for the final show."
She picked up a strawberry and fed it to him instead. "You first."
He accepted it dramatically, eyes fluttering like a man overwhelmed with love. "Delicious. Possibly the best strawberry in all of history."
"Must've been the half you didn't eat."
They stayed like that a little while longer — sharing food, quiet laughter, and stolen glances. The clock was ticking toward their final curtain call, but just for now, they let the world slow down.
Just a boy and a girl. Sharing breakfast. Holding on.
---
The city was quiet in the morning light, their footsteps echoing gently along the sidewalk. Zane carried both their bags slung over one shoulder, while Sunny held onto the strap of her sketchbook case. The warmth of their shared silence stretched comfortably between them — until Sunny spoke.
"Zane?"
"Yeah?"
She glanced up at him, a little hesitant. "Do you ever wonder what would've happened if we met earlier?"
He blinked, glancing sideways. "Like how much earlier?"
"I dunno… back when I was fourteen, maybe? Five years ago, when I first met Axel and Laura — well, Lavendre, back then."
Zane chuckled softly. "So I would've been… sixteen?"
Sunny nodded. "You grew up here as well, right? It's not impossible we could've crossed paths."
"Yeah," he said slowly, rubbing the back of his neck. "But I don't think I would've made the best first impression."
"Why?"
He smirked. "At sixteen, I was all ego and hair gel. Thought I was gonna be a star, like… immediately. Loud, arrogant, and kind of a flirt."
Sunny giggled. "You still kind of are."
"Fair, but now I've got at least some humility," he said, nudging her playfully. Then his smile faded into something softer. "Honestly? I think… I wouldn't have deserved you back then."
That surprised her. "You don't know that."
"I do," he said. "You… you've always had this warmth, this steady kind of light. Me at sixteen? I would've tried too hard, said the wrong things, probably gotten jealous for no reason."
Sunny tilted her head thoughtfully. "Maybe. But… I don't think I would've cared about all that."
He looked at her, a quiet gratitude behind his gaze. "I'm just glad I met you now. When I could really see you. And try to be someone who doesn't take that for granted."
She reached for his hand. "You're doing a pretty good job."
They walked on, fingers interlocked. Just up ahead, Axel's car was parked by the curb — sleek, black, and definitely rented, because Axel would never buy something that flashy. He was leaning against it, sipping coffee, while Laura sat in the passenger seat, tapping something on her phone.
Sunny gave Zane's hand a final squeeze. "Even if we were different back then… I'm glad we met as we are."
"Me too," Zane whispered, brushing a kiss to her temple before they crossed the street.
---
The car ride felt strangely like a vacation.
Axel had shown up in style, pulling up in a clean black rental that looked far too sleek for a bunch of musicians running on caffeine and sleep deprivation. But it fit the mood. This was their day — their final act — and even if the performance was more of a stepping stone than a climax, it still felt significant.
Laura had claimed the front seat, arms folded and window cracked just enough to let in the breeze. She didn't speak much, but the subtle curve of her lips, the way she relaxed into the seat — it was enough to know she was at ease.
Axel was focused but loose, sunglasses on, one hand on the wheel, the other on a paper coffee cup in the console. A curated playlist ran through the car — a mix of chill indie, nostalgic throwbacks, and the occasional dramatic orchestral piece that made Zane dramatically pretend he was in a movie trailer.
Sunny laughed at his antics in the backseat, the kind of open, cheerful laugh that made Axel glance in the mirror with a smirk.
"Can't believe I'm driving a popstar and a hopeless romantic to a gig," he said.
"I'm not hopeless," Zane argued, leaning dramatically into Sunny's shoulder. "I'm passionately doomed."
Laura snorted. "That's worse."
Sunny just beamed. She pulled out a small bag of gummy candies from her tote and offered them around. Zane grabbed a handful. Axel passed. Laura, after a pause, quietly picked out a green one.
It was small. But Sunny caught the moment, and her smile softened.
They passed countryside on the way — golden fields and old train tracks, sleepy towns and fading billboards. It was about an hour and a half to the venue, nestled just outside the city in a modest arts complex. Nothing huge. But polished. A quiet step forward.
At some point, the music faded into a slower tune — something instrumental, maybe one of Laura's own pieces from a past project. The car fell into a comfortable silence.
Zane reached for his phone and took a quick picture of the car's interior: Axel driving, Laura looking out the window, Sunny curled up beside him with her head resting on his shoulder.
He didn't caption it. Just saved it. For later.
And when they pulled into the parking lot of the venue, there was a moment — just a moment — where no one moved. Axel turned off the ignition, and the quiet settled in.
"This is it," he said.
Laura turned to look at them over her shoulder. "Let's make it count."
Zane smiled. "We already have."
Sunny reached for the door handle, her heart thudding. Whatever came next — the lights, the music, the goodbyes — she was ready.
Not because the show mattered.
But because the people in this car did.
---
The crowd was already gathered when they arrived — a gentle buzz of excitement rippling through the air. Fans clutched lightsticks and handmade signs, murmuring guesses about the setlist, some even trading stories of how long they'd followed Euphony Trio.
From behind the side curtains of the stage, Sunny peeked out, eyes scanning the growing sea of people. Her heart skipped. So many. This wasn't a massive concert hall, but it was full — and all for them.
Then she spotted her — Amelia, front and center.
Of course she was here. Sunny smiled instantly, touched beyond words. Amelia waved when she caught her gaze, raising a handmade sign that read "Go get 'em, Sunshine!" in glittery letters. But Sunny wasn't the only one Amelia had brought.
Standing just beside her — taller, in a leather jacket and looking slightly jet-lagged but wide awake — was her older brother. Her brother. The one who lived abroad. Sunny blinked hard, then gasped.
"Is that—?!" she mumbled, already rushing away from the curtain.
Amelia turned just in time to see Sunny burst from backstage and throw her arms around her brother. He stumbled slightly but laughed, hugging her tight.
"It's been forever!" she said, pulling back, hands still on his arms. "You came all this way?"
"Wouldn't miss it," he grinned. "Biggest Euphony Trio fan in Europe, remember?"
Sunny's eyes sparkled.
Zane walked up just as the hug broke. He didn't say anything at first, just took in the scene — Sunny glowing, this tall guy with the same dimples as Amelia. Then, he cleared his throat with faux-casual flair.
"So… I'm competing with international fans now, huh?"
Sunny shot him a warning look — and blushed instantly.
Nico laughed. "Don't worry, I'm just here to listen. I won't steal her away."
"Good," Zane said, sliding an arm around Sunny's waist, teasing but light. "Because I will fight a man on stage. Don't test me."
"Please don't," Amelia added flatly from her spot behind them, sipping a drink. "It's a respectable venue."
They all laughed. And somehow, in the middle of it, Sunny's nerves melted away — like they always did, around these people.
It wasn't just any performance.
It was this performance.
Their final one together, for now.
And in that moment, she was ready.
---
Backstage was humming. The low thrum of the crowd outside, the stage lights warming up, techs making final checks — it was all real now. This was it.
Zane was tightening his in-ear monitor cord when he paused, looked at the others — Laura calmly adjusting her hair in the mirror, Axel rolling his shoulders like he was shaking off the weight of the moment, and Sunny… beaming nervously at her reflection, hands fiddling with her skirt.
"Okay, no way we're not documenting this," Zane grinned, pulling his phone out of his jacket. "Camera's too bulky, but this'll do."
He waved them over. "Group photo. Final battle vibes."
Sunny giggled. Axel groaned. Laura gave the smallest roll of her eyes — but she moved first.
They huddled in close, the four of them, shoulder to shoulder. Zane held the phone out at arm's length, tilting it just right.
"Say Euphony."
"Euphony," they all echoed — not quite in sync, and that made it even better.
Click.
Then one more, messier, this time with Sunny flashing a peace sign, Axel caught mid-eye-roll, Zane sticking his tongue out, and Laura… smiling. Actually smiling.
Zane looked down at the photo after. "It's not perfect."
"But it's us," Sunny whispered.
He nodded. "Exactly."
And they tucked the phone away as someone called five minutes to showtime.
Time to take the stage.
---
The lights dimmed.
A hush fell over the crowd.
Then—
A single spotlight.
Laura sat at the grand piano, fingers poised. She exhaled silently, then pressed down on the first key.
A soft, haunting melody floated through the venue — tender, precise, and yet… this time, full of warmth. It was her soul, finally speaking through music. The audience quieted even further, drawn in by the depth of her playing.
After a few bars, another light clicked on, revealing Axel seated just to the side, guitar resting on his thigh. He joined her seamlessly, strings shimmering like a quiet fire beneath the piano's gentle waves. Their harmony was flawless — born of years of knowing, and of weeks of rebuilding.
Then came the first voice.
Zane's.
He stepped forward from the shadows, lit in gold, his voice rich, low, and raw.
He sang like he meant every word. Because this wasn't just performance. This was confession.
And then — just as the audience was settling into the sound — a new voice bloomed into the air.
Sunny.
Sweet, bright, yet aching at the edges — like a smile held through tears. She joined Zane in the verse, and suddenly the space between them felt electric.
The choreography was simple but meaningful. A few careful steps — Sunny circling Zane as they harmonized, then their backs touching briefly before turning to face one another.
Laura and Axel exchanged a glance mid-performance. Everything was coming together.
During the bridge, Zane and Sunny's voices danced — a true duet, not just in melody, but in soul. The way they looked at each other… no one could fake that.
And just as they hit the final chorus, the music swelled — Zane took one quick breath, a glance over Sunny's shoulder toward the front row… where he sat.
Amelia's brother.
Still grinning.
Zane smirked.
Then — with barely a beat missed — he turned back to Sunny, stepped in, and kissed her.
Right there, center stage.
The crowd exploded.
The final notes came in waves — Laura's keys, Axel's strum, and Sunny's dazed, glowing smile as she sang the last line. Their hands found each other and held.
The lights faded slowly.
Cheers thundered.
---
Backstage was chaos in the most magical way.
As soon as they stepped offstage — adrenaline still rushing through their veins — the hallway filled with movement. Staff, fans, flashing cameras, and eager journalists formed a buzzing blur around them.
Zane barely had time to take Sunny's hand before Amelia came charging through the crowd, dodging around an intern and a cameraman with practiced ease.
"SUNNY!" she squealed, arms already open.
Sunny turned just in time to be wrapped in a tight hug, almost lifted off her feet. "You were incredible," Amelia said, pulling back just enough to look at her. "Seriously. You've come so far. I was—" her voice wavered just a little "—I was so proud out there."
Sunny flushed, smiling wide, eyes damp. "Thank you..."
Amelia's attention slid to Zane next, narrowing into a teasing glint.
"And you—" she jabbed a finger at him "—really had to go for the kiss, huh?"
Zane gave her a lazy, smug shrug. "You're welcome," he said, like he'd gifted the audience a fireworks finale. "Figured the moment called for something memorable."
Sunny covered her face, laughing through her fingers. Amelia rolled her eyes, grinning. "Dramatic and shameless."
Zane winked. "Wouldn't be me otherwise."
Before she could fire back, Amelia's brother arrived, hands in pockets, cool as ever — but he went straight to Sunny.
"Been a long time," he said, smile soft. "Still hard to believe that was you up there."
Sunny blinked. "...You came all the way back for this?"
He nodded. "Of course. I wouldn't miss it. You crushed it, by the way."
Zane slid in closer behind her, not quite possessive — but definitely present.
"Oh?" Amelia's brother raised a brow, clocking the proximity.
Zane offered a smile, charming but undeniably smug. "You'll need to get in line."
Sunny elbowed him.
And just like that — laughter erupted again. The energy was euphoric, tired, buzzing. Axel and Laura joined moments later, snacks in hand, Axel's arm slung casually over Laura's shoulders. Their calm grounded the high.
They had done it.
And in the midst of the noise, the congratulations, and the flashing lights — they stood there as a group, four artists tied together by something more than music.
---
Back at Zane's place, the post-performance high still hummed in the air — like the lingering echo of their final note on stage.
Zane's penthouse was warm with golden light, the faint scent of citrus cleaner and fresh linen in the air. Sunny padded barefoot across the hardwood floor, still a little flushed from earlier — from everything. Her hair was loosely pinned, and she wore one of Zane's oversized sweaters, the sleeves covering her hands as she helped arrange snacks on the kitchen island.
Zane was in the living room, lighting a few candles — not because he was trying to be romantic (according to him), but because "ambience matters." He adjusted the music playlist on his speaker, setting the tone somewhere between low-key celebration and sleepy comfort.
"Usually after a show we just crash," Sunny said, peeking over at him. "Or… stand around awkwardly while I try to initiate a group hug that no one commits to."
Zane laughed. "Hey, I hugged you after rehersal."
"Yeah, and Laura flinched like it was a surprise attack," Sunny teased.
"And Axel patted your shoulder like he was burping a baby," Zane added.
Sunny grinned. "Exactly. That's why this —" she gestured to the cozy setup, "feels kind of special."
Zane grinned. "Yeah, well... that was before me."
She laughed softly. "Of course."
He came up behind her, slipping his arms around her waist and pressing a quick kiss to her cheek. "This collab deserves more than just a tired thumbs-up. We worked our asses off — and it was good. Really good."
She leaned back against him, eyes soft. "It was."
A knock at the door cut through the quiet. Zane broke away to answer it, and moments later Axel and Laura stepped inside.
Laura had changed out of her stage attire into something casual but elegant — dark jeans, a soft blouse, hair still up but more relaxed. Axel wore his usual layered gray, but even he looked more at ease than usual. He was holding a bottle of something, lifted it as he entered.
"Did someone say celebration?"
Zane gave a mock bow and gestured them in. "Welcome to the exclusive afterparty of the century. Guest list: strictly iconic."
Laura cracked a smile. "Well, we did just play a sold-out show."
"Exactly," Zane said. "No better reason."
They drifted into the kitchen, the four of them moving easily around each other — snacking, chatting, laughing. Sunny opened a pack of mochi she'd brought; Axel nearly burned the popcorn because he forgot the microwave timer. Laura poured drinks. Zane insisted on a toast.
"To what?" Sunny asked, holding up her glass.
Zane looked at each of them. "To finding each other."
Axel nodded. "To not killing each other."
Laura raised a brow. "To accidentally becoming a better group."
They all laughed. And clinked glasses.
Outside the window, the city sparkled. Inside, they were just four people — musicians, friends, maybe more — who had made something together. Something messy, meaningful, and real.
---
As the evening wore on and the last flickers of celebration faded into quiet comfort, Axel and Laura slipped out into the night with brief goodbyes — Axel with a warm clap on Zane's shoulder, Laura with a nod and soft, almost invisible smile.
The apartment door clicked shut behind them, and suddenly, the space felt still.
Sunny leaned back on the couch, her knees tucked under a throw blanket. Zane stood near the kitchen, the last of the glasses in hand. He looked over at her — and smiled.
She smiled back, but it didn't quite reach her eyes.
"This was supposed to be it," she admitted quietly, "I thought I'd leave too. After everyone else. That way I wouldn't have to… watch you go."
Zane paused mid-step, eyes softening.
"I was hoping you'd stay," he said, voice low. "Actually… I was gonna ask if you'd come with me to the station tomorrow. So we can say goodbye properly. Together."
Sunny hesitated. Her grip on the blanket tightened. "Zane, I don't know if I can…"
He crossed the room and sat beside her, gently brushing her knuckles with his. "I'll make it worth it. I promise. We'll cry at the station together, ruin the drama of it all."
That got a weak laugh from her. She tilted her head against his shoulder. "You're really making it hard to say no."
"Good," he whispered, pressing a kiss to her hair.
She was quiet for a beat, then pulled back, her eyes glinting with sudden mischief.
"In that case…" she said slowly, "how about we don't sleep?"
Zane blinked. "You mean—?"
"An all-nighter," Sunny said, sitting up straighter now. "One last night. We stay up 'til sunrise. Only if you think you can handle it, old man."
He snorted. "Excuse you, I have more stamina than anyone in this band."
"Oh really?"
"Try me."
She grinned. "Challenge accepted."
And just like that, the heaviness lifted — just a little. Enough for them to make one more memory before morning came.
---
They made the most of their all-nighter.
With the music low in the background and city lights glimmering through the window, they sat side by side on the couch, flipping through the photo book Zane had gifted her the night before. Each photo brought a memory — a half-forgotten rehearsal, a goofy expression, a snapshot of nerves just before a show, a candid shot of Laura actually laughing.
Sunny laughed softly at one where Zane had made a ridiculous face mid-chorus. "I still don't know how you made that sound while doing this," she said, pointing at his contorted expression.
"It's a talent," Zane replied, mock-proud. "But don't try it. I'm the only one who survived it with my vocal cords intact."
They talked for hours like that — no rush, no pressure. Just existing in the same space. And when the clock crept past midnight, Sunny perked up. "Hey… we haven't had snacks yet. And if this is our last adventure for a while…"
Zane sat up. "You have a plan?"
Sunny grinned. "Always."
They threw on hoodies and wandered out into the sleeping city. The streets were quiet, lit by pools of orange streetlamp glow. They found a tiny 24-hour corner shop — the kind with flickering signs and a humming fridge — and picked out their final-night treats.
Zane, naturally, went for spicy shrimp chips and a microwavable meat bun he swore by.
Sunny, beaming, found her favorite orange Ramune, the nostalgic glass bottle with the marble inside. "This stuff tastes like childhood," she said. "And maybe like dreams."
As for their shared snack? They settled on matcha taiyaki — soft fish-shaped pastries filled with warm green tea cream.
Back outside, they found their spot: a quiet park near the riverside, empty and calm. The moon hung full above the water, casting a soft silver shimmer over everything. They sat on the steps near the railing, unwrapping their food with quiet laughter.
Then, without a word, Zane stood and offered her his hand.
She blinked up at him. "What?"
"One last duet."
Sunny's heart fluttered.
He pulled her to her feet. No music, no spotlight — just the whisper of wind, the buzz of streetlamps, and the river murmuring nearby. Zane began to hum the melody from their final song. Sunny followed, her voice joining his like it always had — delicate, steady.
And at the same part where he'd kissed her during the performance… he did it again.
No audience. No flash. Just them.
Her hands curled around his hoodie, holding him there. The kiss lingered — slow, deep, tender. A promise without words. When they finally parted, neither could speak.
---
Back at the penthouse, it wasn't long before their closeness turned wordless again. The final hours unfolded in soft touches, whispered confessions, and quiet need. No rush. Just a gentle urgency — as if trying to memorize each other's bodies before time slipped away.
And when their hearts finally slowed, their fingers tangled, and their breaths evened out again… Sunny turned to him, cheeks flushed, voice barely a whisper.
"Let's watch the sunrise."
He nodded, pulling on a hoodie for her and wrapping a blanket around their shoulders.
They made their way upstairs to his rooftop — a private corner above the city — and sat close, watching as the sky bled into gold and lavender. The first rays of sun kissed their skin.
Zane smiled softly. "I guess it's time."
Sunny nodded, her voice caught in her throat. "Yeah…"
But before they headed to the station, they sat for just a little longer, letting the silence hold them — one last time.
---
The station was cool and quiet in the early morning light, the last streaks of sunrise just beginning to fade into the blue of day. The platform buzzed faintly with announcements and the occasional shuffling of feet, but for Sunny and Zane, the world had narrowed to just them.
Zane stood with his suitcase at his side, a crossbody bag slung over his shoulder. His hoodie was slightly rumpled from their all-nighter, hair tousled in a way that made him look younger — or maybe just more real. His hand still held hers.
The intercom chimed."The next train will be arriving shortly. Please stand behind the yellow line."
Sunny's throat tightened. Her other hand slipped into her jacket pocket, fingers curling around something.
"I wasn't sure if I'd give this to you," she murmured. "But I think… it's the right time."
Zane tilted his head, curious.
She pulled it out — a small, custom-made in-ear monitor case, sleek black with a rose-gold trim. Zane opened it slowly. Inside were in-ear monitors, professional-grade — the kind used by top performers on tour. But what made them truly special was the engraving inside the lid:
"For the next stage. — Euphony Trio."
Beneath the words, there were tiny symbols representing each of them:
A small sun for Sunny.
A classic treble clef for Laura.
And a tiny guitar pick shape for Axel.
Zane blinked, completely still for a moment. "You guys got me this?"
Sunny nodded, eyes wet but smiling. "It was Laura's idea actually. Said it's what a pro deserves."
"And Axel said if you break it, he's not fixing it," she added with a watery laugh.
Zane stared at the monitors, then at her. "This is… Sunny, this is way too much."
"It's not," she said gently. "You gave us your all, Zane. You changed everything. This is just… us saying thank you. And cheering you on."
Zane swallowed hard. He didn't trust his voice, so instead he pulled her into a hug — firm, lingering, burying his face in her shoulder.
"I'm coming back, you know," he mumbled. "You're not getting rid of me that easily."
Sunny laughed, blinking fast. "I hope not."
The train began to roll into the station with a soft screech. Their time was up.
Zane pulled away just enough to kiss her — slow, unhurried, memorizing the feel of her lips one last time.
Then he stepped onto the train.
She stood there, hand still half-raised, until it pulled away.
Only when it was out of sight did she whisper, "See you at the next performance."