Page 78 of Vengeful Melodies

She laughs quietly into her tea, cheeks flushed from something that’s not the heat.

There’s a moment of stillness. Real, grounding stillness. It’s rare on tour. Even rarer in this life.

She ends up stretched across all four of us by the time the clock reads close to midnight—her legs in Takoa’s lap, her back against my chest, Bash behind her playing with the ends of her curls, and Kai still curled by her knees like a sleepy cat.

“You gonna fall asleep like this?” I ask against her shoulder.

“Mmhmm,” she hums. “Warmest spot in the world.”

“Gonna be hell when someone has to pee,” Bash mutters.

“Not moving,” Kai grunts.

“No one’s moving,” Takoa confirms.

“Guess I’ll die here,” she murmurs with a smile, eyes finally slipping closed.

And it’s then—right then—when I know we’ve already said everything that matters. We just haven’t put it into music yet.

But we will. Tomorrow. For now, we give her this. A quiet night. A safe place to fall asleep. Our girlfriend. Ours.

The sound of four heartbeats, steady and real, echoing in the background of whatever song is still left to play.

Chapter Thirty Three

Dreya

I wake up warm.

Not from sunlight—because the curtains are still drawn tight—but from the weight of the blanket tucked around me, the soft give of a pillow under my cheek, and the unmistakable scent clinging to the fabric of the hoodie I’m wrapped in.

Alix.

I blink slowly, adjusting to the dim light in the room. My back’s pressed into the cushions of the couch, and someone’s definitely tucked this blanket around me with care. I stretch, sluggish and reluctant, and the hoodie shifts against my skin, oversized and worn-in and so him it makes my heart ache.

There’s no chaos. No noise. No rush.

Just low, soft strumming in the corner of the suite.

I lift my head slightly and see them.

All four.

Takoa’s seated cross-legged on the floor, brow furrowed in concentration as he scribbles something into a notebook balanced on his knee. Bash is sitting backwards on a chair, strumming his guitar in rhythm with the quiet drumbeat Alix keeps tapping against his thigh with one drumstick. Kaiser’s holding his bass close to his chest like it’s part of him, fingers moving in time even when his eyes are closed.

They're creating something. Us, maybe.

None of them have noticed I’m awake yet, and I don’t want to interrupt the moment—not when they’re so them, so locked in that magic they chase with every breath.

I watch, heart catching in my throat.

This is what they look like when they’re in their element. Hair tousled, voices low as they hum or mumble lyrics or toss out riffs and corrections. It's messy and instinctual and so beautiful I could cry.

Alix glances up first. His eyes find mine in an instant.

The corner of his mouth lifts. It’s not a smirk. It’s softer than that. Like a secret smile only meant for me.

He nods toward the coffee mug on the table. Steam curls from it faintly.