Six months.
That's what it's been.
Not a year.
Not forever.
Long enough for habits to form.
Long enough for distance to feel normal.
Long enough to wonder if normal replaced you.
The train ride back feels different.
He doesn't watch the city shrink this time.
He watches the fields return.
Open.
Uncomplicated.
Unbranded.
His phone rests in his hand.
Message thread open.
Axel.
He types:
I'm coming back for a bit.
Deletes it.
Types:
Back in town tonight.
Sends.
Three dots appear almost immediately.
Okay.
That's it.
No:
Why?
No:
Finally.
No:
What happened?
Just okay.
Measured.
Steady.
Unmoved.
He exhales slowly.
That's why he texted Axel first.
Axel doesn't dramatize.
He absorbs.
The landscape shifts gradually.
Highways give way to trees.
Trees to familiar rooftops.
Rooftops to brick.
Aetheridge doesn't compete with the sky.
It settles under it.
His chest tightens unexpectedly.
He didn't expect the relief to feel this physical.
The station platform looks the same.
Same chipped paint.
Same uneven tiles.
Same corner coffee stand.
No driver waiting.
No sign with Calder printed in bold letters.
Just people.
Ordinary.
He steps off the train with one suitcase.
Again.
But this time—
He feels like he's arriving somewhere real.
His phone buzzes.
Axel.
Studio later?
Zane stares at the message.
No questions.
No pressure.
Just location.
He types:
Yeah.
Pause.
Why aren't you asking why I'm back?
The reply takes longer this time.
Then:
You'll tell me if you want to.
That lands somewhere steady.
Axel doesn't chase information.
He waits for it.
Always has.
He exits the station.
The air smells different here.
Less metallic.
Less compressed.
He didn't realize he'd memorized that difference.
He walks instead of calling a car.
Suitcase wheels clicking against pavement.
Familiar streets.
Familiar storefronts.
The café with the chipped sign.
He slows slightly as he passes it.
Half-expecting to see—
He doesn't let that thought finish.
Six months.
Sunny could have changed.
Moved on.
Shifted.
Recalibrated without him.
He doesn't know yet.
That uncertainty hums quietly beneath his ribs.
The studio door feels heavier than he remembers.
He pushes it open.
The sound inside is immediate.
Piano.
Guitar strings.
Low conversation.
Warmth.
Laura glances up first.
Composed.
Observant.
She doesn't smile widely.
But her shoulders loosen slightly.
Axel looks over next.
Expression unreadable.
He sets his guitar down carefully.
"You look tired," Axel says simply.
Not accusatory.
Not smug.
Just factual.
Zane almost laughs.
"Yeah."
Axel nods once.
"That tracks."
No I told you so.
No subtle satisfaction.
Just space.
That dynamic matters.
Axel doesn't win when Zane struggles.
He just adjusts.
Zane steps fully into the room.
The air feels lived in.
Not curated.
Not optimized.
Real.
Six months.
Long enough to hurt.
Not long enough to erase.
He doesn't say he's relieved to be here.
He doesn't say he's unraveling.
He doesn't say he doesn't know if Sunny still feels like home.
He just stands there for a second.
And for the first time since the skyline swallowed him—
He doesn't feel elevated.
He feels grounded.
And that feels like something he didn't realize he missed.