Vanessa
I wake up with a sore neck from sleeping all night in the same position—like the big spoon—offering protection and affection to Mel. I'm a good friend, but also kind of dumb. I could've changed positions at some point, once she was deeply asleep. But as always: all or nothing. My philosophy is going to kill me.
This time I decide to go out for breakfast before getting dressed, and yes—I checked like three times that I'm not in my underwear. It's not that I've become paranoid, but you never know when you'll run into the universe.
Just as I close the door, I hear footsteps on the stairs, and to my great satisfaction, it's Maeson. Waking up to that face in the morning is a reward. Even if I didn't literally wake up next to him… but hey, I know what I mean.
He looks at me and his eyes light up—almost literally. And like two magnets pulled by an impulse they can't control, we melt into an unexpected good morning hug. I don't know what he's feeling, but I've already died and come back.
We pull apart after one of those hugs that should have a time limit, but no one wants to let go. Way too comfortable for how awkward it should be to do that right in the hallway, with a perfect view of the kitchen, where I can hear some discreet giggles and Shawn clearing his throat:
"Well, look who decided to grace us with their presence."
Konnor makes a show of checking his watch and says:
"At least you two get up. I've seen people who could sleep through lunch and not even flinch."
Melissa gives me a knowing smile and says:
"Are you talking about Vanessa? Because if there's someone who loves sleep more than breathing, it's her. Every time I travel with her, I have to set three alarms—and even that doesn't work."
Zane laughs and looks at Maeson:
"That sounds familiar… Maeson's the same. If no one wakes him up, he'll keep dreaming until the sun goes down. I think there's a secret competition between them."
They almost speak at the same time. I watch how their eyes meet, like for a second they realize they have some common ground. But then, both get awkward and look down, pretending to check their phones or fiddle with their keys, while the rest quietly laugh at the situation.
I decide to break the little tension by blurting out:
"Today smells like gold with a touch of pale red."
Everyone—except Melissa—looks at me like I've forgotten how language and logic work. Yep, confirmed diagnosis: crazy.
Konnor is the first to speak:
"Sweetheart, how do I say this without scaring you… but I don't think colors can be smelled. What we do have is delicious French toast and coffee. Maybe you didn't sleep well last night… or you smoked the rainbow."
He says it and glances at Zane, teasing him a bit about the night before. Zane just frowns but doesn't say anything.
And then, as always when I'm nervous, I start laughing. But this time, Melissa joins in. It's an understatement to say the rest of the table falls into a silence that practically screams, "We've let two crazy girls into the house." But before they can take action and kick us out, Melissa regains her composure and explains:
"Vanessa has synesthesia, but sometimes she forgets not everyone grew up hearing her say things like that. It's a condition that lets her see colors when she smells something—or sometimes taste flavors when she hears music."
Yeah, well. Now they really might think I'm crazy.
Konnor looks at me, amused and skeptical, raising an eyebrow with that signature irony of his:
"So, if I smell coffee, it's not that you think of me—it's that you see colors? How does that work, Vanessa? Do you imagine a rainbow every time you walk past a bakery?"
I laugh and shake my head:
"It's not like I assign personal scents to people. It's more like every time I smell something, my brain translates it into colors. For example, coffee is usually a warm brown, but if it's really strong, I sometimes see it as deep red. The French toast you made today, to me, has golden highlights and pale reds. It's like breakfast paints the air."
Shawn, with his usual playful energy, leans on the table:
"And what about music? Does it happen with that too? Because if I play my RnB playlist, what does it taste like?"
I answer, pretending to think deeply, with a mysterious look:
"Your RnB tastes like cold vanilla and dark grapes. It's like listening to songs in a room filled with purple and deep blue lights. I swear I'm not making this up, Shawn—that's how my brain processes it."
Zane, all introspective and curious, studies me closely:
"So you don't associate smells with people, but smells paint colors for you? And music gives you flavors? I'm intrigued—can you control it, or does it just happen?"
I look at him and smile, sincerely:
"Almost never, Zane. It's like the world comes with automatic filters for me. Sometimes it's so intense I have to close my eyes because everything blends together."
Maeson, calm as always, smiles at me with that warmth of his:
"That must be incredible and crazy at the same time. I'd love to know what color my cologne gives you—though I bet it's something normal."
I wink and say:
"Your cologne is light blue with golden touches, like when the sun starts to rise. I don't know why, but it always gives me peace."
I say it, as always, without thinking too much. And I can feel the knowing glances exchanged between some of the guys. Maeson blushes slightly at my response, but hides it quickly. What no one sees is how he clenches his jaw for a second, as if my voice touched something he doesn't know how to name. As if peace were too close to home.
And Wenn, with that spark of excitement, nearly bounces in her seat:
"That's so cool! I want to know what colors you see when you smell my perfume or hear my voice—it must be wild."
I laugh and reply:
"Your perfume is like bursts of orange and green, and your voice tastes like fresh mint. You always lift my spirits, Wenn."
And there, among jokes and questions, I'm glad I can share my weirdness—even if it's hard to explain. Because with this group, even the strangest things become reasons to laugh and be curious.
The conversation flows as we eat, and everyone starts sharing standout or quirky traits about themselves.
Melissa begins by telling the group she's a super athlete. Almost every sport comes naturally to her—it's a gift. They ask a few questions, and she shares that she's a professional track and field athlete. But right now, she's taking a break from her career and plans to look for work as a coach. She shows us some videos of her races, and almost instinctively, I watch Zane's reactions the whole time. And yes, I have no doubt now: this guy is in love with my friend and conflicted about his relationship.
Wenn continues and casually tells the group she speaks three languages: Spanish, German, and English. I can tell most of them already knew. But that's when I remember last night's conversation with Mel—it was in Spanish. Almost instantly, I lock eyes with Melissa, and her face says it all. We're going to have to explain a few things.
Maeson takes the floor, unaware of the silent glances Melissa, Wenn, and I are exchanging. His talent is a prodigious memory for music and facts in general. He can't forget any detail, even if he tries. I look at him and wonder what secrets his mind holds, and what things he wishes he could forget.
Shawn is a prodigy songwriter. He's written nearly half of the band's songs. And he talks about it with a pride that almost glows. Wenn looks at him with so much love. The room fills with warmth as he tells us how he discovered his talent—with his brother by his side.
Zane hesitates for a moment, but finally says his greatest talent is fixing almost anything. He learned from a young age, working alongside his father, and it comes naturally to him. All the guys say almost in unison that if it weren't for him, every house they've lived in together would've fallen apart—mostly because Konnor has a tendency to break everything in his path, like a window in the kitchen of this house, and they've only been here a few days.
We all laugh a little and give Konnor the floor to share his talent.
But he just stays quiet for a long moment and says:
"I guess not everyone has standout talents. I know how to write songs too, but nothing special."
He says it in such a low and unusual tone for him that we all feel a bit confused.
But Maeson jumps in immediately:
"That's not true. No one's better at keeping everyone in good spirits. If it weren't for you, most of the time we'd be bored out of our minds. Even if it's a bit out of place, you always know how to make the atmosphere feel better."
Shawn looks at him fondly and says:
"Konnor, you have a gift for making us laugh—even in the tensest moments. Remember that time we were all nervous before a show and you came out with that crazy dance? You saved the night, man."
Zane nods, adding with a smile:
"Plus, you have a unique creativity. Your ideas always make any plan more fun. And even if you say you're not good at anything, without you this group would be a little more gray."
Konnor laughs, shrugs, and replies playfully:
"Ohh guys, you're so sweet—you almost make me feel butterflies in my stomach or something."
Maeson doesn't hesitate—he gets up from his chair and gives him a gentle hug, while everyone smiles and the atmosphere fills with that kind of closeness that only true friends share.
We finish breakfast, each in our own little world, sharing casual conversations with everyone. And then I remember I have an interview. I rush out, half-shouting that I have to be at a record label in an hour and still need to get ready. I see Maeson get up and join me, and we walk the short path to the bedrooms.
"You have an interview at a record label?" he asks in his usual calm tone.
I laugh and reply:
"Yes, I have to go to the central office of Echo & Ember Records for a job interview as a photographer. Honestly, I'm a little nervous—but also excited. Opportunities like this don't come every day, you know?"
Maeson smiles and says:
"You're going to do great. You've got everything it takes to impress them."
As we walk, I feel his support—and it gives me more confidence to face what's coming.
"And we can take you," he adds, "because we work there. We have a meeting today. So don't worry about transportation."
My smile is honest, full of gratitude. I tap his arm and make a gesture that says thank you—but I'm about to vanish or I won't make it anywhere. He just laughs and waves goodbye.