The venue was packed. Sweaty lights, pulsing bass, the low thrum of anticipation vibrating in the floorboards. The crowd was alive—ready to scream, sway, and get swept away.
But backstage?
The air was heavier.
Tighter.
Everyone was quiet in their own way. Pre-show rituals usually filled the greenroom with laughter and teasing. But tonight, silence said everything.
Dante stood with arms crossed, eyes flicking between the mirror and the setlist. Adrian tapped his foot to a rhythm only he could hear. Sienna re-applied lipstick with practiced ease, though her gaze kept drifting sideways—to Elliot.
And Elliot?
He sat on the old green couch, guitar in his lap, barely moving. Tuning. Re-tuning. Fingers on autopilot. The final song on the setlist stared back at him like a dare.
"The One We Buried."
It used to be their song.His and Roxanne's.
The one she helped write.
He hadn't changed the lyrics. He couldn't. It wouldn't be honest.
He didn't know if she'd stay to hear it.
Onstage, the lights were hotter than usual. The crowd screamed their name. Cameras flashed. Chords kicked in.
Mia kept glancing sideways during songs—watching Sienna between verses. She didn't miss the way Sienna looked at Elliot now.
It was quieter.Less playful.Almost careful.
Like she didn't want to be caught… or maybe didn't know if she wanted to be caught.
Mia sang her lines, but her thoughts spun: What if she really feels something? What if this isn't just a game anymore?
Sienna never spoke about it. Not with her. Not with anyone.
But the softness in her expression when Elliot wasn't looking?
That said more than any confession could.
Dante kept his eyes forward, focused. But between transitions, his gaze drifted—to Roxanne in the wings, arms folded, face blank.
She looked stunning.
And untouchable.
She hadn't said much since the night they'd shared on the studio steps. But he could feel it—her energy, the storm underneath.
She wasn't just watching the show.
She was waiting for something.
The set built to the final moment.
Spotlight narrowed.
Elliot stepped forward.
Guitar in hand. Mic in reach. Heart in his throat.
He looked out over the crowd… then beyond them, to the shadows where Roxanne stood.
And he began to sing.
"You said forever, and I wrote it downIn every line, every hook, every soundI tried to hold on, but I held too tightNow all that's left is the echo of fight…"
His voice cracked on the second verse.
Not from strain.
From truth.
He didn't just sing the lyrics—he bled them.
The crowd swayed. Some sang along. Others just listened.
Roxanne watched him.Stared, really.Frozen in place.
She knew this song like her own skin.She wrote the bridge.
And now it felt like he was singing it only to her.
For a second—just a second—her eyes shimmered.But then she turned.
And walked out.
The door closed softly behind her.
Elliot didn't stop singing.
But his voice dropped just slightly.Less sure.Less full.
Dante noticed.
So did Sienna.
And Mia?
She blinked against tears and harmonized quietly, like a balm trying to hold the pieces together.
---
When the set ended, the applause was thunder.
But Elliot didn't raise his arms.Didn't bow.
He just stood there.
Empty.
And everyone felt it.