Backstage was darker than it should've been.
The noise from the gym was still shaking the walls. The crowd was electric. Names were echoing. Phones were flashing. But here, in the narrow hallway behind the curtains, it was quiet again.
Elias leaned against the wall like he couldn't hold his weight anymore.
Guitar slung loose over one shoulder. Hood down. Sweat just starting to cool on his neck. His face wasn't proud. Or smiling.
It was unreadable.
Alex stood a few feet away. Still holding the mic. Still breathing a little too fast.
She hadn't looked at him since they stepped offstage.
Now, finally, she did.
"You didn't fall apart," she said again, softer this time.
Elias didn't look at her. But he answered.
"Only because you did first."
That made her laugh — not loud, not amused. Just one breath through her nose, like something between disbelief and relief.
"You think that's what that was?" she said. "Me falling apart?"
He turned toward her now. Fully.
"You sang like the truth was trying to crawl out of your throat."
"Yeah," she muttered. "And you played like you were trying to bury it again."
A beat of silence.
They looked at each other. And this time, neither looked away.
The stage lights from the hallway spilled in behind them, casting long shadows along the floor. Her eyes had softened. His had sharpened. But something between them was matching pace — like they'd started bleeding in rhythm.
She opened her mouth. Closed it.
Then she stepped forward.
Just one step.
And without thinking, without speaking, Elias did too.
They stood almost toe-to-toe now.
She reached up — not to touch his face. Not quite.
Her fingers brushed his hand. Barely.
And stayed there.
Not a grasp. Not a reach.
Just contact.
Unspoken.
Elias didn't move.
Then—
> "Well. That was... emotional."
The voice hit like a cold drink down the back of the neck.
They both turned.
Jenna Ortiz, leaning against the doorway, arms crossed, wearing a smile that was sharp enough to file a lawsuit.
"I came to say congratulations," she said. "But this is better."
Alex pulled her hand away.
Elias didn't step back.
Jenna tilted her head at him. "Eli Hart. The phantom behind the reverb. Honestly, I expected someone taller."
Elias raised an eyebrow. "And I expected someone original."
Jenna's smile didn't fade — but her eyes narrowed just slightly.
"Cute," she said. "Let me know if you ever want your songs sung by someone with a real label behind them."
She turned to leave.
Elias said, calm and deliberate:
"You'd have to feel something first."
Jenna paused. One step from the hallway.
She didn't turn around.
But her silence spoke louder than any parting insult could.
When she was gone, the quiet came back — heavier now.
Alex looked over at him.
"You didn't have to say that."
Elias shrugged.
"She knew it already."
Alex didn't smile. But she didn't argue.
She just looked at him one more second, then walked away.
And for a moment — a brief, strange moment —
Elias wanted to follow.
But didn't.
He just sat down slowly on the edge of the bench, lowered his head…
…and quietly smiled for the first time all night.