The city was soft that morning—quiet and grey, wrapped in the kind of gentle chill that slipped beneath collars and nudged people into coffee shops. Laura walked briskly down the side street toward the studio, her gloved fingers curled around a thermos and a folded sheet of notes tucked under her arm.
The thermos was filled with black tea. The notes were a revised schedule, color-coded. Somewhere beneath that page, she'd scribbled "vocal balancing?" with a question mark that now made her grimace.
Zane.
The name still carried weight. Not in the awe-struck, fangirl kind of way Sunny might say it—but in the headache-between-the-eyes kind of way. She had agreed—reluctantly—after Sunny and Axel had all but cornered her post-interview. Exhausting didn't begin to cover it. Zane had answered half her questions with smirks, dodged the rest with quips, and only gave her one real, grounded moment… just enough to keep her from walking away.
She told them she'd decide after rehearsal.
She told herself it was just an experiment.
---
Their studio was located on the second floor of a quiet building—an old office turned creative space. The sign on the frosted glass door simply read: Euphony. Inside, it always smelled faintly of wood polish and lavender room spray—Sunny's idea. Laura pushed the door open and paused.
Inside, the lights were warm, soft. The glossy piano sat at the center of the room like a queen on her throne. Cables trailed across the floor in careful patterns. The mic stands were already up. Axel was strumming lazily on a stool, head bobbing to a beat only he could hear. Sunny sat cross-legged by the monitors, flipping through her lyric sketchbook.
Zane? Not yet.
Of course.
He arrived fifteen minutes late with two bags of convenience store snacks and zero apologies.
"Hope no one started without the star," he said, flashing a grin that was somehow both cocky and boyish.
Laura exhaled slowly, then turned to the piano.
"Let's go over the set."
The rehearsal started well enough. Axel fell into rhythm easily beside Laura, their instruments weaving into a steady framework. Sunny's voice—quiet, unsure—rose in harmony beneath Zane's smooth, confident lead. The song they'd chosen for the duet was one of Sunny's own: Velvet Light, a soft synth-pop piece with dreamy undertones and a sweet build into a shared chorus.
But it was the dance segment that cracked the surface.
Zane was a natural—his movements fluid, his steps instinctive. He guided Sunny into the routine with casual familiarity, giving her soft corrections in between lyric lines. But for every spin he turned cleanly, Sunny hesitated. Tripped. Fumbled her way back into position with an apologetic squeak.
"I'm sorry!" she said for the third time in ten minutes, cheeks flushed. "I—I swear I practiced this part—"
"You're fine," Zane said, still grinning. "Just loosen up. Pretend there's nobody watching."
"There is someone watching," she muttered, eyeing Laura, who was scribbling something onto a clipboard with intense focus.
Axel gave her a thumbs up from across the room. "You're doing great, Sunbeam."
Zane turned, raising an eyebrow. "Sunbeam?"
"It stuck," Axel shrugged.
Laura cleared her throat. "Can we focus?"
Zane smirked but said nothing, and Sunny nodded quickly, trying again.
It wasn't that Laura didn't see the potential—she did.
Zane filled space. He commanded it, in a way none of them naturally did. Not Axel, who preferred fading into his strings; not Sunny, who shone through visuals more than vocals; and not Laura, whose presence lived in the steadiness of melody rather than the flash of spotlight.
But it was also clear he had his own rhythm. His own tempo. He didn't slow for others—he expected others to catch up.
Still... even Laura couldn't deny the way Sunny started to laugh after every mistake. The way her shoulders relaxed with each try. The way Zane offered quiet encouragement when she finally hit the harmony right on cue.
"See?" he said. "Told you that voice of yours was made for this."
Sunny's ears turned red. "You think so…?"
"I know so."
---
By the time they called a break, Axel was lounging flat on the studio couch, humming through half a riff. Sunny had collapsed beside him, her hoodie pulled over her head, a water bottle perched on her stomach. Laura sat back at the piano, eyes scanning her notes, though the pen in her hand had long stopped moving.
Zane leaned against the wall, eyes closed, still catching his breath from the last chorus.
Laura watched him. Watched Sunny. The contrast between them.
The clash of energy, and yet… the surprising blend when it worked.
Maybe, she thought, brushing a stray curl behind her ear, just maybe…
Zane was what the group needed.
Not because he was perfect.
But because he threw the rest of them slightly off balance.
Just enough for them to find something new.
---
Rehearsal wrapped with a few final notes and a chorus of mumbled plansAxel had plans—something about checking out a secondhand guitar shop on the east end. "Just scoping gear," he'd said with a shrug. "Maybe I'll come back with a new obsession. Or a broken amp." He waved off—and Laura, true to form, had already slipped away to catch a train uptown for a meeting about sound mixing.
That left Sunny.
She lingered by the door, her sketchbook clutched against her hoodie like a shield. Zane was adjusting his jacket, earbuds already dangling from one hand as if his next destination was calling him with rhythm and neon lights.
Sunny hesitated. Then moved.
She caught up just as he was stepping into the hall.
"Hey, um—Zane?"
He turned, as if he'd already known she was there. "Sunbeam," he greeted, the nickname rolling off his tongue with lazy familiarity. "Miss me already?"
Sunny looked down, a shy smile creeping in. "Do you have any plans this afternoon?"
Zane raised an eyebrow. No surprise crossed his face—just that trademark grin of his, a little crooked, a little sharp.
"Well," he said, slipping his phone into his back pocket, "that depends. Are you asking because you're bored, or because I'm incredible company?"
Sunny puffed her cheeks. "I just thought it'd be… fun. To hang out."
He laughed—not mocking, but warm. "Lucky for you, I'm on my way to meet some friends. Wanted to drop the 'Euphony bomb' on them."
Sunny's eyes lit up. "Oh! Can I come?"
Zane made a show of thinking it over, tapping his chin, giving her a long, exaggerated look.
"…Sure. Why not," he said at last, slinging his jacket over one shoulder. "But fair warning—if they start teasing you, you're on your own."
---
They ended up at a tucked-away ramen joint Zane apparently knew well. The kind with handwritten menus, seats too close together, and steaming bowls that left the windows fogged by sunset. Sunny followed him through the door like a kitten clinging to someone confident.
Zane's friends were already there—four of them, two guys and two girls, clustered at a corner table with mismatched drinks and laughter spilling across the surface. They looked relaxed, half-hipstery, half-stage-crew types. The kind of people who'd stayed up to see Zane perform in sketchy venues long before the streams and sponsorships.
"Oi! Mr. Mainstage!" one of them called. "Didn't think you'd show up with company."
The others turned—and Sunny froze.
She knew the look: the wide eyes, the grins. The assumptions.
"Ooooh," said the girl with short hair and glitter eyeliner, leaning forward. "Zane, is this your new girlfriend?"
Sunny turned beet red. "Wh–What? No—I mean—I'm not—!"
Zane, very unhelpfully, sipped his drink with a neutral face.
Then shrugged. "This is Sunny. She's in the group I'm collaborating with—Euphony Trio."
The guy across from him blinked. "Oh, right—the thing you mentioned. The performance with the duet, yeah?"
Zane smirked and turned his gaze back to her. "She's the co-vocalist."
The table broke into more teasing whistles and nudges. "Ooooh, a duet, huh? This the 'lucky' one?"
"She sure is," Zane replied, not missing a beat.
Sunny could barely hear over the thump of her heartbeat.
---
The evening passed in a blur of conversation and laughter, some of it too fast or loud for her to fully keep up with—but she didn't mind. She watched Zane more than she meant to: how effortlessly he moved among his friends, how he could keep a room spinning without ever pushing too hard. He wasn't just the center—he knew how to orbit others, too. When she laughed at a dumb joke, he smiled at her like he'd been waiting for it.
---
That Night
Sunny sat curled in her apartment, the lights dim, her sketchpad forgotten beside a cup of half-finished tea. Her legs were tucked up under her, oversized hoodie sleeves wrapped over her hands.
She'd meant to keep working on storyboard notes. Or maybe test a new color palette.
Instead, she just… sat.
And thought.
About the rehearsal. The warmth in his voice when he guided her. How he didn't roll his eyes when she tripped for the third time—just held out a hand and pulled her up.
Her fingers twitched at the memory. Without realizing it, she glanced down at her own hand resting on her lap.
It still remembered the gentle, firm way his hand had wrapped around hers.
She exhaled sharply, her cheeks heating up again.
"I'm being silly," she muttered to herself, flopping back onto the futon.
But even as she closed her eyes, her mind replayed the sound of him saying,"She sure is."