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It’s quiet outside.
It’s quiet outside, and so is Lumi.
Alone with her thoughts, no one around.
But she doesn’t mind.
Lumi is always out of the limelight, and she likes it that way. She doesn’t mind others being in the spotlight, like her fellow band members, or the other performers. She’s just happy they get to shine.
She’s happy for them.
She’s happy for Draco.
…
Draco.
Something about him has changed, she knows it.
But she can’t put her finger on why.
Lumi never had a lot of friends, she always told herself that she didn’t need them.
That they were just distractions. But Draco was a different story.
Lumi usually kept a cold demeanour, not letting her emotions bleed through. keeping others out of her life, and she succeeded at that.
But Draco?
Draco always talk to Lumi and seemed to enjoy being around her. It seems silly, doesn’t it?
No matter how many walls she put up around herself…
Draco still made his way through.
I mean, sure. She never really talked to him that much, or ever tried to. And she always told herself she didn’t deserve friends.
But she still couldn’t help be a little softer around him.
The stars blink slowly above her, each one a quiet echo of something distant and untouchable, kind of like how Draco’s been lately.
If you’ve ever met Draco, you would know he’s the kind of person who filled up a room just by walking into it, his stories having passion woven into every word.
But now, when they rehearse, he barely looks up from his guitar. His playing’s still sharp, sharp enough to cut, really, but the spark behind it feels... off. Dimmer.
As if he’s pulling away from something, or maybe from someone.
Lumi grips a blade of grass between her fingers, rolling it absentmindedly. She tells herself she’s only noticing because it affects the band. Because it messes with the rhythm. But that’s not the whole truth, and she knows it.
It started bothering her more than she expected.
At first, she told herself it was just the disruption in tempo, the subtle delay in their usual chemistry on stage.
But the silence between songs? The way Draco would look at her like he had something to say but always swallowed it back?
That wasn’t about the music.
Lumi closes her eyes, listening to the wind stir through the leaves.
She was never good at this kind of thing—feelings, connection, all that messy in-between. But Draco had always been loud enough to break through her quiet, bright enough to slip past the guardrails she built.
And now that he was pulling back, it felt like she was missing something she hadn’t realized she’d come to depend on. Something warm. Familiar. And irritatingly important.
Lumi lets out a quiet breath, her mind twisting the possibilities. Maybe it’s her, the way she keeps everything so locked up, so cold.
Maybe Draco’s pulling away because she’s the one pushing him out, without even realizing it.
She’s never been good at showing what’s inside, and maybe that’s why he’s changed.
Maybe she’s the problem.
The thought stings more than she expected.
It feels as if the very earth had ceased its movement, like it had stopped breathing .
Then, out of the corner of her eye, she spots a tiny baby sheep waddling awkwardly into the field, its fluffy wool almost glowing in the moonlight.
The little creature stops right beside her, then lowers its head and nuzzles gently into her side.
The unexpected warmth of the sheep’s touch makes Lumi blink.
…
Warmth
That’s something she hasn’t felt recently
It feels nice.
Lumi absently strokes the soft wool against her side, her thoughts swirling faster than before.
“Maybe I’m the reason he’s changed”
“Maybe I’m just too cold, too distant.”
She swallows the lump in her throat, unsure what to do with the sudden flood of feelings.
Footsteps crunch softly through the grass, and Draco appears at the edge of the field, guitar slung over his shoulder. He stops, eyes resting on the baby sheep nestled against Lumi.
“I don’t know why there are so many sheep around the Mad Evil Manor,” Draco says with a small, amused smile. “They just kinda showed up one day.”
Then, after a pause, he steps closer and adds, “Mind if I join you?”
Lumi hesitates but then nods, surprised at how easy it feels to say yes.
“Sure,” she replies quietly.
Draco sits down beside her, the quiet between them no longer uncomfortable.
The baby sheep nudges against both of them, a gentle bridge in the silence. Lumi glances at Draco, noticing the softness in his eyes, and wonders if maybe this is a good time to ask about it.
About why he’s been like this.
After a few moments of silence, Lumi builds up the courage to ask what’s been tugging at her mind. “So, could I ask you something?”
Draco’s eyes meet hers, and he shrugged. “Go ahead.”
Lumi pauses before speaking. “You’ve seemed pretty distant lately. And, well, I don’t want to pry, but I want to know why you’ve been so quiet.”
Draco shifted beside her, the baby sheep still nuzzling quietly against Lumi’s side.
He stared down at his hands, fingers tracing invisible patterns on his guitar strap.
“Lately, it feels like I’m... just taking up space. Like I’m not really part of this...the band, the group, anything,” he said, voice low and rough.
“I try to play, try to be loud, but really, it’s like everything’s empty. Like no one would notice if I just faded away.”
He paused, swallowing hard. “Sometimes, it’s easier to think about that. Easier than facing the mess inside my head.”
Lumi stayed silent, her eyes fixed on Draco, letting him speak without interruption.
“I don’t want to burden anyone,” Draco continued, voice cracking a little. “But I’m scared. Scared that maybe I’m too broken to fix. That maybe... I’m just a problem no one wants to deal with.”
A soft breath escaped Lumi’s lips. “You’re not a problem,” she said simply.
Draco looked up, surprised by her quiet certainty. For a moment, the heaviness in his eyes softened—just enough.
Lumi shifted closer, the baby sheep nestled beside her. She said nothing, just gave him the space to breathe, to spill whatever was bottled up inside. Sometimes, that was all anyone needed.
Draco hesitated, then slowly spoke again, voice softer than before.
“It’s hard… feeling like I’m invisible, even when I’m right next to someone. Like you.” He glanced at her briefly, then quickly looked away, cheeks faintly flushed. “Sometimes I wonder if you even notice me—not just as a bandmate, but... more?”
Lumi’s breath caught. The way he said it, so tentative, so unsure. it wasn’t just about the band. She realized then that Draco’s silence, his distance, wasn’t just sadness or fear. It was something more complicated, something fragile.
She reached out, her fingers brushing gently against his arm. “I do notice, Draco. More than you think.”
For the first time in a long while, Draco’s guarded expression softened, and a small, hopeful smile tugged at his lips.
Draco looked down at Lumi’s hand resting lightly on his arm, feeling a warmth he hadn’t dared to hope for. The baby sheep shifted between them, its quiet presence a gentle anchor in the stillness.
“I don’t know what to do with this,” Draco admitted, voice barely above a whisper. “With how I feel, I mean. It scares me... messing things up between us, or making things awkward.”
Lumi studied him for a moment, then gave a small, reassuring smile. “We don’t have to have it all figured out right now,” she said softly. “Just... start somewhere. Maybe just be honest, like this.”
Draco nodded, the tension easing from his shoulders. “Yeah. I’d like that.”
They sat there together under the stars, the quiet between them no longer heavy or uncertain, but full of possibility. The night stretched on, and for once, neither of them felt alone.
Draco glanced up at the stars, then back at Lumi, nerves twisting in his chest.
“We should probably head back inside,” he said quietly, then hesitated. After a pause, he added, “Maybe... sometime, we could hang out. You know, just the two of us. No band, no practice- just... something different.”
Lumi blinked, a small smile spreading across her face. She didn’t need him to say the word. She understood perfectly.
“So, a date?” she replied softly. “Yeah, I’d like that.”
Draco’s shoulders relaxed, and a shy grin broke through his usual reserve. They stood up together, the baby sheep stretching softly.
Under the calm night sky, they walked back inside, not just as bandmates, but mabye something quietly new.
