Chapter Text
The walk to the auditorium wasn't long, but it felt longer than it was. Seraphine couldn't wait to bombard Rell with questions about how things would go, what she’d be singing, and whether she could add her own unique touch to the song Rell had already composed. The girl with the red streaks in her hair responded only with grunts and nods or shakes of her head yes or no to spare her voice and Seraphine didn't seem to mind or complain out loud. Rell didn't know why they were heading there, but the shorter girl’s determination and the heavy, deliberate way she planted her feet with every step made it seem important.
The auditorium was operating as usual; rows of seats lined the tiered steps, all facing the stage. There was only one person there, a boy with a green mohawk and a leather jacket, holding a clipboard and looking bored until the two girls walked in.
“I told you not to come back” he said irritably, his eyes shifting toward Seraphine.
Ah, so she really is on the banned list, Rell thought. She might have even found the situation funny if her entry form weren't in the hands of someone who clearly didn't approve of her new singer.
“She's with me.” Rell said, finally speaking up and making her stance clear. Beside her, Seraphine gave the boy a friendly little wave and a smile.
“I don't know how she talked you into bringing her here, but this is against the rules.” the boy said, his tone now shifting to one that sounded almost concerned for Rell.
Rell had expected this; she knew that everyone involved in the Battle of the Bands was from Heartache, and that for many of them, the event mattered far more than graduating as high school valedictorian. But, like all of them, that was precisely why she had to try to update her registration by any means necessary.
“I can’t… sing.” Her voice, fragile and hushed, spoke with total honesty. She wasn’t in a position to intimidate anyone, nor did she want to. So, with any luck, he might understand the situation if she let her vulnerability show for a moment even though she hated doing so.
“I didn’t make the rules; I just follow them.” he said.
Rell held his gaze for a moment with a serious look, as if that might change his mind, but it was no use. Frustration rose within her, but soon her head dropped and the spark faded from her red eyes; she accepted that she would have to go another year without winning anything.
Seraphine, who had been quiet until then, spoke up. “Huh? But usually, your group is always writing things like 'down with the status quo'...” Rell couldn't tell if there was mockery in her voice or if the girl was genuinely confused about the politics of the Battle of the Bands. “Why do you need to follow all these rules that have kept us divided for so long?” That was when Rell understood: Seraphine was persuading him like a natural-born politician.
“But I—” The junior stammered, struggling to finish his train of thought, if he even had one.
“I think music is meant to bring people together, not keep them apart.” The white-haired girl cut him off strategically, not letting him try to finish his sentence. “Rell and I are going to put on a show you’ll never forget.” Seraphine placed her hand on the shorter girl's shoulder; luckily, the new singer couldn't see the goosebumps rising on Rell’s skin from Seraphine’s speech… and especially from that sudden touch.
“If anyone asks, I had nothing to do with this.” He flipped through the pages, changed the line listing Rell as the vocalist, and added Seraphine’s name next to hers; Seraphine celebrated with a little squeal of "yay."
Even though Rell’s mask hid her facial expressions, Seraphine could see her fists clenched together in celebration and realized just how excited Rell was to have their partnership made official. At that moment, Seraphine really wanted to know what the girl’s smile looked like without the mask.
-
After leaving the auditorium, the two girls walked briskly, with Rell leading the way. It was 7:50 AM, and judging by the girl's haste, Seraphine realized there were only ten minutes left before classes began. Come to think of it, Seraphine didn't know which class the girl was in, nor whether she was younger or older. However, as they neared the classrooms, she decided to simply follow the other girl to find out. But Rell stopped in front of the Heartache music club and walked right in without a second thought.
The taller girl knew in theory where the club was, but seeing the interior was a completely different story. She couldn't suppress a gasp of awe as she took in the details of the space. She had heard rumors from students in her group claiming the room was a mess, gum stuck to tables, papers scattered on the floor, and broken guitars, but Seraphine saw none of that. Instead, the room featured bold graffiti on the walls and cables she nearly tripped over; yet, it paid homage to past winners and possessed a unique charm, defined by a creativity that refused to be bound by standard fashion norms.
Rell starts taking her guitar out of its case, grabs a few cables, and sits casually on a comfortable beanbag chair in the corner of the room. With the amp now connected to the guitar, she glances at Seraphine with a puzzled look, wondering why she’s still standing by the club door instead of joining her.
“Um, I have to go to class now…” Seraphine says softly, explaining to Rell’s dismay that they won’t be able to start practicing just yet. “I realized I never asked your name; I’m sorry.” She pulls a phone with a pink case featuring cat ears from her pocket.
“Rell,” she replies, her voice raspy.
Seraphine types something into her phone and hands it to a confused Rell. She sees that Seraphine is adding her number; her name being saved with two emojis: a guitar and a rock-on hand sign. Rell enters her number into the white-haired girl’s phone and repeats the process, saving her name simply as “Sera” and reluctantly handing over her own phone, which has a slightly scratched case, so the girl can save her number.
“Now I can text you when my class is over so we can practice later,” Seraphine explains with a warm smile. “See you later, Rell.” She says her name, and for a moment, Rell’s heart skips a beat.
—
Focusing in geography class was easy for Seraphine, as was answering any questions the teacher asked the class. She enjoyed studying other countries and the world’s diverse cultures, each with unique quirks that made them special in her eyes. Seraphine had visited several countries herself, and she always made a point of reading up on them while passing through airports, even during mere layovers, a frequent occurrence given her annual trips to visit extended family abroad or vacations in the Caribbean. However, her focus was broken when she received a series of messages on her phone. She figured it must be something important; after all, neither her parents nor her friends usually messaged her in the middle of class. Seraphine unlocked her phone revealing a wallpaper photo her father had taken of her at a cat café, surrounded by cats and checked the message. It was from Rell.
Rell’s profile picture showed her looking serious, gazing out at a skate park Seraphine remembered walking past a few times. It was a classic hangout spot for the Heartaches, often during school hours. Rell was always direct in her messages, even without the hindrance of a mask or the flu holding her back. She had simply sent a digital score containing the song's lyrics, along with a few notes she had jotted down. In a follow-up message, she stated jokingly that this would be Seraphine's next study assignment and told her to meet up after class at an address she had included.
She couldn't stop looking at it. Focusing first on the lyrics, she saw they spoke of the isolation of not being what society expects and of moving forward even if all the idiots around you judged you. It was edgy, yet it conveyed a message of self-determination and holding onto hope for one's dreams. For Seraphine, it was exactly what she wanted, but written in a style she wouldn't have used herself.
The sheet music appeared to have been written entirely by Rell in standard notation, revealing an intermediate level of music theory knowledge on the guitarist's part. This came as a pleasant surprise to Seraphine, who had assumed they didn't care much for theory, especially since she hadn't seen any books on the subject in the rock club. Furthermore, the document included notes that clarified exactly what the Heartache girl had intended to write but hadn't fully captured in the notation, such as "Fry scream at the start." Suddenly, Seraphine began to worry that performing at the Battle of the Bands would be harder than she had anticipated.
“Miss Clarke, is everything alright?” The teacher interrupted Seraphine’s spiral of catastrophic thinking, questioning her unusual behavior. Given Seraphine’s track record as a model student, the teacher asked out of genuine concern rather than with any intent to punish.
“I’m sorry; my dad is at the vet with my cat.” It pained Seraphine to lie to her favorite teacher, but she couldn't admit she’d been ignoring the lesson to look at a song sent by a punk girl she’d just met. At least, not right now. She left Rell’s message on read and put her phone away.
—
The bell rang, signaling the start of the first lunch break, and Seraphine rose from her seat to wait for the two classmates she usually ate with, Lux and Ezreal, so they could go get lunch together. The three of them left wearing a wave of pastels, they were all Heartthrobs. In every different classroom, the white haired singer found herself among different peers, yet they all invariably belonged to the same clique as her. It wasn't by choice; she always tried to expand her circle of friends and fans, but the Heartaches didn't pay her much attention, at least, not in person.
Seraphine maintained an active social media presence, occasionally posting vlogs of her daily routine and videos of herself singing songs from her playlist. She recognized many students in the comments and realized that, while the commenters were all Heartthrobs, some Heartaches followed her too, albeit silently. Only Seraphine knew this, and it drove her to keep trying to find these anonymous fans at school. She didn't understand the divide, and what she wanted most was to bring both audiences together for her show. And with Rell's help, that would finally be possible.
When the three of them arrived at the cafeteria, their group didn't waste any time chatting. Seraphine had plenty of friends, but she considered Lux and Ezreal the ones she talked to most.
“I don’t know how you guys manage to pay attention in a class that’s so boringly easy,” Ezreal said, stretching his arms in the air and yawning.
The boy possessed a rebellious streak that refused to let any class stifle his desire for freedom, yet everything about him screamed "heartthrob." His sneakers were impeccably white, his pants were pink denim, and his cropped top fit snugly against his slender frame. He was naturally intelligent and didn't want to waste his precious time on things he already knew.
“My aunt would kill me if I got even one question wrong on the test,” Lux replied worriedly; she was the type of girl who focused entirely on her studies to ensure her grades never slipped.
“At least you’ll be able to cry on the shoulder of that girl from your locker,” Ezreal teased, referring to something the two of them had seen that morning. “Even I’ve never had a confession like that.” He sighed with a smile.
Seraphine hadn't been with them that morning to witness the moment Lux went to her locker and found a girl with long braids and a spray can in her pocket admiring her handiwork: a graffiti-style smile painted on Lux’s locker door.
“I keep wondering what she meant by that...” Lux mused, thinking back to the smile both the one on her locker and the one on the girl's face.
Seraphine was about to ask what they were talking about, but she got distracted the moment she spotted Rell on the other side of the cafeteria; their eyes locked. Seraphine smiled warmly and waved, never breaking eye contact. Rell stands awkwardly, feeling the weight of the attention directed at her; other people in the cafeteria, those who knew Seraphine and were curious about her interaction with the lone punk girl were watching. Moments later, Rell leaves without a word, wearing an expression the Heartthrob singer couldn't quite read.
“Is she a fan? Doesn't look like it,” Ezreal jokes, while Lux looks on, confused, perhaps wondering the same thing as Seraphine. There was something odd about the look in Rell’s eyes.
As the three of them wait in the food line, Seraphine considers sending a message to check on her new partner, but as if by telepathy Rell messages her first. She explains that she has to leave early today to pick up some medication and tidy up the house while her parents are away, so she has to cancel today’s “meet-up.” She sends a follow-up message telling Seraphine to practice the material she had sent over, noting that the real training would begin tomorrow.
The voices in the cafeteria began to grow muffled, and her colleagues' conversation seemed to fade away as Seraphine thought about the vocal training she had to do and recalled the issue she’d spotted in Rell’s notes. She would have to learn how to scream and try to master it that very day before meeting Rell, so the other girl wouldn't go looking for a different singer.
Breathe, Seraphine; you'll just have to scream. She mentally prepared herself for the long afternoon ahead.
If she had agreed to join the Battle of the Bands, she would have to learn to sing like them. Lux and Ezreal might not have guessed it, but she was going to spend the rest of the day learning to sing in a way that would make rock stars envious. As for the results, however, that was something only tomorrow would reveal.