Shit! Where's my glasses?

Sophia can’t play guitar without her glasses… and forgets them on the night it actually matters.

Daniela, who absolutely does not do chaos, somehow ends up realizing it might not be so bad after all.

Notes:

(See the end of the work for notes.)

Work Text:

The lights were dim, tinged in blue and gold, cutting across the smoky air like ribbons. The crowd pressed close to the stage, buzzing with weekend energy, waiting the first chord.

Sophia tightened her grip on her electric guitar, rolling her shoulders once, twice. Beside her, Lara tapped her mic, testing levels, multitasking as only a lead vocalist-slash-keyboardist could—glamorous and stressed at the same time.

Behind them, Megan spun a drumstick effortlessly between her fingers, looking like she could fall asleep and still keep perfect rhythm.

Yoonchae tuned her bass with the expression of someone who would rather be anywhere else but was resigned to loving the band too much to leave.

“Alright,” Lara breathed, glancing back at them. “Let’s give them something good.”

Sophia answered with a grin that was half-confidence, half-chaos. “Always do.”

The first notes rang out—clean, sharp, electric.

The crowd roared.

Cloverleaf came alive.

They weren’t performing their originals tonight—those were reserved for bigger stages, louder nights—but this set was still a solid mix: two indie rock cover and a grungy crowd favorite that let Sophia go wild on the bridge.

And she did, her glasses hanging on for its life just not to fall off.

Her fingers flew across the strings, matching Megan’s seamless drumming and Yoonchae’s steady, grounding basslines. Lara’s voice wove through it all—smooth, powerful, commanding the room.

Tonight, everything clicked. Every chord, every cue, every messy spark of adrenaline.

When the last song crashed to a finish, the audience erupted.

Sophia pushed her hair out of her face, flushed with heat and triumph.

Yoonchae gave a half-smile, her version of enthusiastic.

Megan held up both hands, waiting for high fives from anyone who wasn’t sweaty or dying.

Lara bowed with the dignity of someone who didn’t trip over cords anymore.

They stepped offstage, breathless, laughing.

And that’s when the backstage curtain rustled open.

“Lara!” A voice called.

Manon swept in like she owned the place, all confidence and expensive perfume. The moment Lara saw her, her entire posture changed—less leader, more girl caught smiling too hard.

Sophia elbowed Megan. “Here we go.”

Megan snorted. “Every gig, bro. Every single gig.”

Manon wrapped an arm around Lara’s waist without hesitation. “Great set,” she murmured, brushing a kiss onto Lara’s cheek. “But I still say you look better when you’re not sweating.”

Lara flushed, swatting her lightly. “I was not sweating that much.”

“We all were,” Sophia declared, peeling off her jacket dramatically. “It’s hot as hell in here.”

“That’s because you don’t know how to dress for ventilation,” Yoonchae added dryly.

Sophia gasped. “And you don’t know how to dress for fun.”

“True,” Manon said flatly, not even looking at her.

Sophia opened her mouth. Manon raised one brow. Sophia closed her mouth.

Classic.

“Dani didn't come?” Megan asked casually as she wiped her drumsticks.

Manon’s expression didn’t change, but Lara hesitated—just a split second before saying,

“Yeah. Said she couldn’t make it.”

Sophia didn’t react outwardly, but she felt something twist. Not disappointment, not relief, just… something she didn’t want to define.

Yoonchae leaned against her amp. “Did she say why?”

Manon shrugged. “She said, and I quote, ‘I’m not going to a gig where Sophia is going to try and talk to me again.’”

Sophia’s jaw dropped. “I—WHAT? I did not try to talk to her!”

Megan raised a brow. “You spilled iced coffee on her.”

“ONE TIME!” Sophia protested.

“You also called her ‘sunshine’ sarcastically,” Yoonchae added.

“That was affectionate!”

“No, it wasn’t,” Lara and Manon said in perfect unison.

Sophia threw her hands up. “Okay, fine, maybe I annoy her a little.”

“A little?” Megan wheezed.

Manon folded her arms. “Dani said she’d rather stay home than deal with your—her words, not mine—‘chaotic, smug, impossible-to-ignore bullshit.’”

Sophia blinked.

“I mean. That’s kind of specific.”

“Because she meant it,” Manon replied.

Yoonchae nudged Sophia. “Congratulations. You’re a natural repellent.”

Sophia groaned and dropped onto an equipment crate. “I can’t believe she hates me that much.”

Megan snorted. “Oh, I can.”

Lara shot her a glare, but she didn’t disagree.

Manon’s eyes softened just slightly—not enough to be obvious. “Look. Dani’s complicated. She just doesn’t… handle certain personalities well.”

Sophia squinted. “Am I that personality?”

A long silence.

Manon opened her mouth. Yoonchae shook her head slowly. Megan whistled. Lara coughed accidentally-on-purpose.

“Yes,” they all said together.

Sophia buried her face in her hands.

“And this,” Megan said cheerfully, patting her back, “is the perfect time for a post-gig snack. Who’s hungry?”

Sophia peeked up. “Me.”

Manon sighed but joined the group as they headed out, Lara glued to her side.

Daniela wasn’t here. But the night wasn’t over.

And Sophia had no idea that things were about to get much less blurry.

—

The sticky floors and smoky lights from last night were a distant memory by the time Sophia stepped into campus the next morning—but the exhaustion wasn’t.

She trudged toward the main building, guitar strap slung across her shoulder even though she had no class that needed it. It was her comfort item. Her emotional support instrument.

Megan walked beside her, sipping an iced matcha the size of her head.

“You look like shit,” she offered cheerfully.

“Thank you,” Sophia croaked. “It’s called being an artist.”

“You stayed up reading comments on our band’s videos again?”

“Maybe...”

“Did you sleep?”

“Define sleep.”

Megan sighed. “Dumbass.”

Sophia grinned.

They reached the courtyard—and that’s where the shift happened.

Because there, under the morning sunlight, stood Lara and Yoonchae at their usual spot…

along with someone who wasn’t supposed to be there.

Someone wearing a dark jacket, silver earbuds, arms crossed like the world annoyed her simply by existing.

Sophia blinked.

“Dani,” she whispered, as if saying the name too loudly might summon lightning.

Megan followed her gaze. “Oh. Yeah, she got dragged here by Manon. Something about a group project meeting.”

Sophia froze in place.

Daniela's eyes flicked up—sharp, uninterested, annoyingly pretty—and landed directly on her.

Sophia immediately forgot how legs worked.

Yoonchae noticed first. “Oh no. She’s glitching again.”

“I’m not glitching,” Sophia muttered.

“You’re literally buffering,” Megan said.

Sophia inhaled, straightened her jacket, pushed her glasses up, and tried to walk like a normal human being and not like a raccoon that stole a sandwich. But the second she approached the group—

Daniela's expression soured like milk.

“Great,” she said flatly. “The noise machine is here.”

Sophia clutched her chest. “Good morning to you too, demon spawn.”

Daniela scoffed. “You say that like it’s an insult.”

Megan whispered to Lara, “And it begins.”

Lara whispered back, “Every. Day.”

“Yet somehow you always do,” Daniela said, sliding her earbuds out with surgical disdain.

“Maybe that’s because you’re always around,” Sophia shot back.

“I avoid you,” Daniela corrected.

“Poorly.”

Dani’s eyebrow twitched. “Did you hit your head after the gig?”

“No,” Sophia said proudly, “just your ego.”

A dangerous pause.

Megan mouthed, Why are you like this?

Yoonchae crossed her arms. “Here we go. Round two.”

Lara rubbed her temples. “It’s eight in the morning.”

Manon arrived then, strolling across the courtyard with the confidence of someone who never paid for parking tickets.

“Oh good,” she said, taking in the scene. “You two are already fighting.”

“We’re not fighting,” Sophia protested.

“We’re communicating,” Daniela said at the same time.

“That’s worse,” Yoonchae sighed.

Manon nodded. “Anyway. Dani, stop terrorizing Sophia. Sophia, stop… existing loudly.”

“HEY—” Sophia started.

“By the way,” Manon continued, "Your gig was solid last night.”

“It was,” Sophia said, brightening. “We were—”

Manon turned to Daniela, who was already glaring. “Your absence was very noticeable.”

Sophia blinked.

Oh.

Oh no.

Daniela's jaw clenched. “I told you why I didn’t come.”

“Yep,” Manon said. “Because of Sophia.”

Sophia placed a hand dramatically over her heart. “I’m sorry my presence is so overwhelming.”

“Overwhelmingly irritating,” Dani muttered.

“You wound me.”

“I wish.”

“Try me, sunshine.”

Daniela's entire face tightened. “Don’t call me that.”

“Why not?” Sophia teased, leaning in. “It suits you. Bright, warm, painful to look at directly—”

“You’re painful to listen to,” Daniela snapped.

Yoonchae turned away to hide a laugh.

Megan didn’t bother hiding hers.

Lara sighed heavily. “You two need… something. A mediator. A leash. Therapy.”

“Couple’s counseling,” Megan offered.

Both Sophia and Daniela yelled, “NOT A COUPLE!”

Which, of course, made everyone stare like they very clearly were.

Manon clapped her hands. “Great. Discussion over. Let’s get breakfast before Lara dies of embarrassment.”

The group began walking toward the cafeteria. Sophia lagged behind, adjusting her guitar strap.

Then she felt someone at her shoulder.

Daniela.

Arms crossed. Scowl in place. Voice low enough to be almost soft.

“Don’t take it personally,” she muttered. “I just… don’t like noise.”

Sophia blinked at her.

“I’m noise?”

Daniela paused. “You’re loud.”

“In a bad way?”

A beat.

“...In a way I don’t know how to handle.”

Sophia froze. “Oh.”

“If you repeat that to anyone,” Daniela warned, “I will set your guitar on fire.”

Sophia grinned so wide it hurt. “Okayyy, sunshine.”

Daniela groaned. “I hate you.”

“Sure.”

“Shut up.”

“Make me.”

Daniela stomped ahead before her brain could combust.

Megan leaned back toward Sophia and whispered, “So… one-sided enemies-to-lovers?”

“No,” Yoonchae corrected. “Mutual denial-to-lovers.”

Sophia looked at Daniela's retreating back and felt her heartbeat trip over itself.

“Shut up,” she murmured.

—

The campus was quieter by late afternoon, that sleepy in-between hour where half the students napped and the other half regretted all their life choices.

Sophia knew exactly where she wanted to be.

Not her dorm.

Not the café.

Definitely not anywhere within two meters of a girl with pretty eyes and hostility issues.

Instead, she slipped into the quietest place on campus: the old music room behind the auditorium. The one with the peeling posters and temperamental air-conditioning that wheezed like it smoked three packs a day.

Sophia flicked the lights on. Warm yellow. Cozy. Just enough for eyes not to get irritated with the light.

She set her guitar case down gently, almost reverently. The melody that she's been working on buzzed in her mind, flickering at the edges of her thoughts like a stubborn spark.

She sat, tuned her guitar, and let her fingers find the notes.

Chill. Like the rain suddenly started pouring.

She played it again.

And again.

Something spark-like fluttered in her chest.

Still no lyrics. Just the tune.

She grabbed her notebook and scribbled:

blurry?? lights??

why is this song so hard??

not about her not about her not about her

maybe about her?? NO.

Sophia groaned into her hands.

That’s when—

Click.

The door creaked open.

Sophia almost flung her guitar at the intruder.

Daniela froze in the doorway like she had stumbled into forbidden territory.

She wasn’t even wearing her usual scowl—just pure, startled confusion.

“…You?” Daniela said, blinking. “You’re in here?”

Sophia clutched her guitar. “Yes. I was here first. Why are you here?”

“I was looking for a quiet place to think,” Daniela said flatly. “But clearly that was optimistic.”

Sophia sputtered. “Excuse me?! I was being quiet!”

“Your existence is not.”

Sophia opened her mouth to protest, but Daniela’s eyes had already drifted to the guitar in her hands, then to the scattered notebook pages.

“You’re writing something,” Daniela said.

Sophia slapped the notebook to her chest. “No.”

“You are.”

“Shut up.”

Daniela stepped inside, closing the door behind her as if she hadn’t just broken into Sophia’s sacred creative cave.

“I didn’t know you practiced on campus,” Daniela said casually.

“How would you know? You don't even go to our gigs,” Sophia shot back.

Daniela shrugged. “Manon shows me clips.”

“And you skip them.”

“Obviously.”

Sophia glared. “Why?”

“I don’t like crowds.”

“And?”

“And noise.”

Sophia scoffed. "Yeah. Noise translates to me. I feel so honored."

“You shouldn’t.”

“Well too late!”

Daniela rolled her eyes and pointed to the guitar. “Play it.”

Sophia froze. “Why?”

“You’re working on something,” Dani said simply. “I want to hear it.”

Sophia blinked.

“You want to hear me play?”

Daniela’s jaw tightened. “…I’ve never actually heard you. Not really.”

Oh.

Oh that did something to Sophia’s ribcage.

She looked away, adjusting the guitar awkwardly. “Fine,” she muttered. “But it’s not finished.”

“Obviously.”

“Rude.”

“Just play.”

Sophia inhaled.

Then strummed the opening riff.

Warm. Clear. Something like electricity under skin. Something like a mood she couldn’t name. Something dangerously close to the way she felt when Daniela looked at her too long.

Daniela went very still.

Her posture softened—just a fraction—but enough for Sophia to notice. Daniela’s expression wasn’t annoyed, or bored, or unimpressed.

She looked…

Surprised.

And something else Sophia couldn’t read.

When the last note faded, neither of them spoke.

Sophia fidgeted. “It’s not done...”

Daniela swallowed. “I didn’t expect you to sound like that.”

“Like what?”

Daniela hesitated.

Then, quietly,

“Good.”

Sophia’s face heated. “Oh.”

“It’s annoying,” Daniela added quickly, crossing her arms. “Because now I understand why people like your band.”

Sophia tried not to smile. “So you do pay attention.”

“No. Manon forced me.”

“Mhm.”

Daniela's eye twitched. “Don’t start.”

Sophia sat back down, heart pounding. “I still don’t have lyrics.”

Daniela stepped closer, cautious, like approaching a fire she couldn’t tell was warm or dangerous.

“What’s it supposed to be about?” she asked.

Sophia blinked. She hadn’t expected the question.

“Something blurry becoming clear,” she said slowly, adjusting her glasses. “Like—like everything was out of focus until—until something shifts.”

Daniela looked at her. Really looked.

“Sounds personal,” she murmured.

Sophia swallowed. “Maybe.”

Daniela's gaze flicked to the guitar again.

“You’ll figure the words out,” she said. “You’re better than you think.”

Sophia stared at her.

Daniela realized what she said and immediately looked away like she’d exposed state secrets.

“I mean—objectively,” Daniela added stiffly. “You’re… competent.”

“You keep accidentally complimenting me.”

“I’m leaving.”

“You’re blushing.”

“Goodbye.”

Daniela practically fled the room, ears visibly pink.

Once she was gone, Sophia fell backward on the carpet with a groan.

“Oh no,” she muttered into the ceiling.

She picked up her guitar again.

Strummed the melody.

And whispered, almost to herself,

“This really is about her, isn’t it?”

Sophia burst out of the music room five minutes after Daniela fled, guitar case half-open, notebook dangerously close to falling out, hair even messier than usual, and glasses slipping off her nose. She looked like a musician who had just been hit by revelations, emotions, and possibly a truck.

Megan spotted her instantly.

Mostly because Sophia crashed directly into her.

“Dude!” Megan yelped, steadying her. “What happened? You look like you saw a ghost. Or worse. A teacher.”

Sophia blinked rapidly, picking her glasses that fell. “Nothing. Nothing happened. Nope. Everything’s normal. I’m normal.”

Megan stared.

“You’re holding your guitar backwards.”

Sophia looked down.

“I meant to do that.”

“No, you didn’t.”

Sophia swallowed, throat dry. “Okay but listen... If someone hypothetically wrote a song and it hypothetically felt kinda sorta maybe personal but not about anyone specifically—”

“You saw Dani, didn’t you?” Megan asked instantly.

Sophia squeaked. “NO?”

“Say it again,” Megan said, sipping her drink.

“No.”

Megan raised an eyebrow.

Sophia cracked instantly. “Okay, fine! Maybe...”

Megan waited.

Sophia inhaled sharply, dragging her hands down her face. “She walked into the music room.”

“Oh no.”

“And she asked me to play what I was working on.”

“Oh no.”

“And I did.”

“You idiot.”

“I know!"

“And let me guess. She liked it.”

Sophia made a strangled noise. “I don’t know! Maybe?? She said I ‘sound good.’ GOOD Megan. DO YOU KNOW HOW RARE THAT WORD IS COMING FROM HER? That’s like—an eclipse! A miracle! A prophecy! SHE DOESN’T COMPLIMENT PEOPLE.”

Megan nodded slowly. “She doesn’t.”

“She said she understands why people like our band. Megan, SHE DOESN’T EVEN WATCH OUR CLIPS. SHE HATES NOISE. SHE HATES ME. SHE HATES EVERYTHING. BUT SHE—” Sophia flailed dramatically. “—LISTENED.”

Megan patted her shoulder. “Oh babe. You’re gone.”

“I’M NOT,” Sophia said too quickly. “I’m fine. It’s fine. This is fine. The song is not about her.”

Megan blinked. “Is it?”

“NO.”

Megan waited.

“Maybe.”

Waited.

“Okay the melody was kinda inspired by—NOT HER—but like the idea of someone—”

“You mean Dani.”

“I didn't say that!”

“You didn’t have to.”

Sophia groaned, burying her face into her guitar case. “This is so stupid. I don’t even like her.”

“Uh-huh.”

“I don’t!”

“Of course.”

“I don’t!” Sophia insisted. “I mean, sure, she’s annoying, and rude, and her eyes do that thing where they—”

She froze.

“NOPE. I DIDN’T MEAN THAT.”

Megan smirked like she had been waiting her entire life for this. “Her eyes do what thing?”

“Nothing.”

“Sophia.”

“They—” Sophia whispered dramatically, “look very judge-y.”

“Mhm. And?”

“And…” She tried not to combust. “pretty.”

Megan cackled. “There it is!”

“NO.” Sophia gasped. “NOT THERE. TAKE IT BACK.”

“You said it.”

“I TAKE IT BACK.”

“You can’t.”

“DELETE IT.”

“You can’t delete a crush.”

“I DON’T HAVE A CRUSH.”

Megan put both hands on Sophia’s cheeks and squeezed. “My girl, you literally wrote a romantic melody five minutes after staring into Daniela’s angry, gorgeous eyes.”

Sophia melted into a puddle of embarrassment. “Stop saying gorgeous.”

“You said pretty first.”

Sophia whimpered.

Yoonchae appeared from behind a vending machine. Nobody knew why she was there or how long she'd been listening.

“So,” she said, deadpan. “The song is about Dani.”

“It’s not—” Sophia began.

“It’s always about Dani,” Yoonchae said, shrugging. “Your entire personality glitches when she walks into a room.”

Megan nodded. “Exactly.”

“I don’t glitch.”

“You buffer.”

“I DO NOT BUFFER.”

“You do,” both said in perfect sync.

Sophia made a dying-whale sound.

Lara approached the group just in time to hear that sound. “What did I miss?”

“Sophia’s having an awakening.”

“No, I am not!”

“She wrote a song.”

“STOP TALKING.”

“It’s about someone.”

“NO IT’S NOT.”

Lara nodded knowingly. “It’s Dani.”

“I—will THROW MY GUITAR AT YOU.”

Lara held her hands up. “Hey, I’m just saying —if you’re writing something that intense, maybe put it into words. Lyrics might help.”

Sophia collapsed sideways on the bench. “I can't write lyrics. Every time I try, my brain goes blank and starts thinking of—of—”

“Dani,” Megan supplied.

“No!” Sophia barked. “Not Dani! Just—fire. And eyes. And—shut up!”

Yoonchae popped her gum. “That’s literally Dani.”

Sophia curled into a ball. “I hate it here.”

Megan sat beside her. “Okay, but good news?”

“What.”

“You’re not screwed yet.”

“How?” Sophia peeked over her hands.

“Because,” Megan said, grinning, “Dani has no idea you were inspired by anything. Zero. None. Nada. She doesn’t even watch our videos. She probably doesn’t even know what chord progression is.”

Yoonchae nodded. “If you wrote a song about her tomorrow, she wouldn’t realize unless someone stitched her name into the lyrics.”

“Or set her on fire,” Lara added.

Sophia groaned and hid her face again. “This is the worst day of my life.”

Megan clapped once. “Great! Now that that’s settled, let’s write your romantic not-about-Dani song.”

“It is not about—”

“It is,” all three said.

Sophia stood up dramatically. “You all suck!”

Yoonchae shrugged. “But we’re right.”

Sophia stomped away to hide in the music room again.

The second the door shut behind her, Yoonchae exhaled. “She’s so in love.”

Megan nodded. “Painfully.”

Lara sipped her drink. “She’s doomed.”

And inside the room, alone with her guitar and empty notebook, Sophia strummed the melody again, and whispered under her breath.

“I’m definitely doomed.”

—

Sophia’s plan was simple (she spent all night writing it in her notebook).

AVOID DANI.

FOREVER.

AT ALL COSTS.

EVEN IF ITMEANT CRAWLING THROUGH THE AIR VENTS.

Not that she would actually crawl through air vents. Probably.

The next morning at school, she walked through the hallway with laser–focused determination, head lowered, guitar case slung across her back like a battle shield.

Megan walked beside her chewing gum loudly. Yoonchae trailed behind with iced coffee.

“You look like you’re going to war,” Megan said.

“I am,” Sophia whispered. “A war against humiliation.”

“You could… just talk to her?” Yoonchae suggested.

“No.”

“You could... Uhm—tease her?”

“No.”

“You could stop writing love songs about her?”

“No!” Sophia yelped loud enough to startle two freshmen.

She clamped her hands over her mouth.

Megan grinned. “So it is a love so—”

“IT’S NOT ANYTHING!”

Sophia’s voice cracked. She cleared it, tugging her hoodie higher to hide her face.

They turned the corner.

And there she was.

Daniela.

Walking down the hallway with Manon and Lara, laughing about something.

Hair tied up, jacket slung over one shoulder, just existing in the most inconvenient way possible.

Sophia panicked and immediately spun around.

“Retreat! Retreat!”

She nearly collided with a trash bin.

Megan grabbed her hood before she could flee entirely. “You’re being dramatic.”

“She—she’ll look at me and somehow see the lyrics in my skull!”

“She doesn’t even know you’re writing anything,” Yoonchae reminded her.

“That doesn’t matter. She’ll know. My face is weak. My soul is weak.”

Across the hall, Daniela slowed her steps. She blinked when she saw Sophia turn her back.

Tilted her head.

“Huh?” Daniela murmured.

Manon followed her gaze. “What’s wrong?”

“I think…” Daniela squinted. “Is Sophia hiding from me?”

Lara tried very hard not to smile. “Maybe she’s just busy?”

“But she literally saw me and spun around like she touched a hot stove,” Daniela insisted. “Did I do something?”

Manon threw an arm around her. “You? Do something? You barely even talked to her.”

“That’s what’s weird!” Daniela hissed. “Why is she acting like I bit her?”

Meanwhile Megan forcibly dragged Sophia down the hallway as she whisper–screamed.

“She looked at me. I felt it. Abort. Abort mission.”

The next day, Sophia took an entirely different hallway. A hallway she had never taken in three years of attending this school.

By lunchtime, she’d completed three unnecessary detours, four speed–walks, and one evasive dive behind a vending machine.

Daniela spotted her mid–dive.

“What the hell?”

Lara raised an eyebrow. “You should ask her.”

“No! That’d make it worse,” Daniela insisted, crossing her arms. “I’ll just… observe.”

Manon snorted. “What are you, a wildlife researcher?”

Daniela frowned. “No. But something’s wrong.”

She watched Sophia dart inside a classroom, nearly tripping over her own feet.

“I think she’s avoiding me.”

On the third day, Daniela was starting to take it personally.

She saw Sophia in the courtyard.

Sophia saw her back.

Sophia immediately pretended to take a phone call on her dead phone.

Daniela stared. Hard.

“Okay. Yeah. That’s definitely avoidance.”

Manon patted her shoulder sympathetically.

Lara bit her lip to keep from laughing.

Sophia had maintained her “Avoid Dani At All Costs” lifestyle for seven entire days.

Seven.

Which, for someone as unintentionally noticeable as she was, felt like a miracle.

She perfected the art of ducking behind lockers, pretending to tie her shoelaces even when wearing crocs, and suddenly becoming fascinated by blank walls.

She thought she was being stealthy.

She was not.

Daniela slammed her locker shut, jaw clenched so hard her teeth ached.

“She did it again,” she growled.

Manon didn’t look up from painting her nails. “What? Avoid you?”

Daniela pointed violently at the hallway where Sophia had just disappeared—ducking behind a trash can like a raccoon fleeing a crime scene.

“Yes!” Daniela snapped. “We made eye contact for 0.2 seconds and she fell to the floor like she got sniped.”

Lara hid her smile behind her coffee cup. “Maybe she’s sick.”

“I’m sick,” Daniela muttered darkly. “Sick of her acting like I’m a biohazard.”

Manon sighed, capped her nail polish, and turned to face her.

“Dani. Sweetheart. I say this with love, you are not subtle.”

Daniela glared. “I’m not trying to be subtle.”

“That’s the problem.”

Daniela groaned and leaned against her locker.

For someone who claimed not to care about anything, she looked very… frustrated.

And restless.

And, dare anyone say it—worried.

“She won’t even look at me.” Daniela’s voice dipped, quiet. “Did I do something? Did I say something? Did I—I don’t know, exist wrong?”

Lara exchanged a look with Manon—one of those looks that meant,

She’s spiraling. This is new. And hilarious.

“Maybe just ask her?” Lara offered gently.

Daniela scoffed. “Right. ‘Hi Sophia, why do you run away from me like I’m brandishing a chainsaw?’ Fantastic conversation starter.”

Manon stretched her arms and stood. “Okay. Enough. If you’re desperate, just say so.”

“I’m not—” Daniela began.

“You’re desperate,” Manon said.

“I’m—”

Manon raised a brow.

“…a little desperate,” Daniela admitted.

And then it happened.

In a rare moment of vulnerability (or unfiltered frustration), Daniela blurted, looking at Lara,

“When is Cloverleaf’s next gig?”

Manon’s jaw dropped. Lara actually choked on her coffee.

“You—” Lara coughed. “You want to go? You, who hates crowds? You, who complains if music is above whisper volume?”

“I don’t hate crowds,” Daniela snapped.

“You pushed a man at a mall because he ‘walked too close.’”

“He did!” Daniela threw her hands up. “He was breathing suspiciously!”

Manon pinched the bridge of her nose. “Focus. Why do you want to know?”

Danielanstiffened, gaze narrowing stubbornly.

“Research.”

“On what?” Manon asked.

Daniela crossed her arms. “Acoustics.”

Lara smiled knowingly. “Acoustics?”

“Yes. For… science.”

Manon leaned in. “You want to hear Sophia play.”

“No.”

“Yes.”

“No—shut up!”

Manon cackled. “You’re so gone it’s pathetic.”

Daniela shoved her. “Just tell me the date.”

Lara shook her head, amused, and checked her phone.

“There’s one this Friday. Small venue near downtown. We're the closing act of the event.”

Daniela nodded sharply. “Fine.”

Manon raised an eyebrow. “You know she doesn’t think you’re coming, right?”

“Good,” Daniela muttered. “She won’t avoid me on stage.”

Lara blinked. “Is that your plan? Corner her in front of an audience?”

“No. I just…” Daniela exhaled, gripping her backpack strap.

“I need to know what’s going on.”

Manon softened a little. “You care.”

Daniela grimaced. “Stop saying that.”

“You caaare.”

“Manon.”

“You’re worried about her.”

“I will set you on fire.”

“You liiike her.”

Daniela slapped a hand over her friend’s mouth. “SAY IT AGAIN AND I’M LEAVING THE COUNTRY.”

Manon laughed under her palm.

Meanwhile, somewhere across the campus...

Sophia sneezed violently in the middle of band practice.

Megan stared. “Someone is talking about you.”

Yoonchae plucked her bass strings. “Someone who has a lot of suppressed feelings.”

Sophia groaned. “Can we not.”

—

The backstage was louder than the actual venue.

Drums thumped through the wall from the band before them, the crowd roared at some inside joke they’d never understand, and the stage lights spilled gold stripes across the equipment cases. Cloverleaf huddled in the cramped green room, tuning, stretching, psyching themselves up.

Sophia slung her guitar over her shoulder, inhaled, and adjusted her glasses—or tried to.

She frozed.

“Wait.”

Yoonchae, quietly tuning her bass in the corner, looked up first. “That’s not a reassuring tone.”

Megan stopped air-druming, glancing at Sophia, “What now?"

Sophia didn’t answer. She just blinked at the blurry outline of Megan’s face.

“Megan,” she whispered. “I can’t see your eyebrows.”

“That’s—concerning?”

“No, like—at all.”

“That’s extremely concerning, Sophia.”

Lara looked up from where she was adjusting her mic pack. “Why? What’s happening?”

Sophia pressed both hands to her face. “I… I forgot my glasses.”

Silence.

Then the band collectively imploded.

“WHAT DO YOU MEAN YOU FORGOT YOUR GLASSES—ON PERFORMANCE DAY—AGAIN?!”

“This is the fifth time,” Yoonchae, serene as ever, noted softly. “New personal record.”

“Okay, breathe, breathe. This is fixable. Sophia, can you play blind?”

“No?!” Sophia squeaked. “Everything looks like… like watercolor soup!”

“Contacts?” Megan asked, hopeful.

"You know I don't wear those."

“Backup glasses?”

“Broke them when I yeeted myself at a nearby bush!”

"I can't believe I just noticed now too." Megan pinched the bridge of her nose. “Okay. So you can’t see. On a night we’re performing a set with three songs. Two of it you arranged.”

Sophia whimpered.

Lara patted her shoulder. “It’s fine. Just follow my voice cues like last time.”

“That’s how I almost walked off the stage!”

“Yeah, well, you didn’t fall, did you?”

Yoonchae slid her bass strap on and approached, patting Sophia’s shoulder. “I will walk ahead of you. Follow my silhouette.”

“I can’t see your silhouette!”

“That’s unfortunate,” Yoonchae said calmly, like this was weather news.

A knock sounded on the green-room door.

“Five minutes!” the stage manager called.

Megan scrambled to check their gear. “Okay team, focus. Lara leads vocals and keyboard, I’m right flank, Yoonchae left, Sophia… try not to drift into a drum kit or fall off the stage.”

Yoonchae added helpfully, “If you fall, I can catch you. But only if you fall within a one-meter radius of me.”

“That’s very specific,” Sophia muttered.

The four lined up near the curtain, Sophia shuffling like the ground might disappear any second.

As the previous band exited, the crowd cheered.

Cloverleaf was next.

Lara leaned toward Sophia. “By the way… someone special’s in the audience tonight.”

Sophia blinked at the vague smear of Lara’s face. “Who?”

“You’ll see,” Lara smirked.

“No, Lara, I literally won’t! I CAN’T SEE ANYTHING!”

The curtain rose.

—

The first song—“What You Know”—kicked off with Megan’s cowbell pattern.

Sophia hit her opening riff.

Or tried to.

Because she could see nothing.

Her entire world was a vibrating neon blur, broken only by the vague shapes of her bandmates. Yoonchae’s silhouette glided somewhere to her left, and Sophia used that like a lighthouse. Megan was a chaotic, fast-moving blob behind the drums. Lara’s voice resonated clear and bright, guiding them through the dark.

Sophia tightened her focus on muscle memory.

She’d written this riff. She’d played it a hundred times. Glasses or no glasses, her fingers remembered.

And the crowd roared.

She wasn’t sure if they were roaring for her or because someone spilled beer, but it didn’t matter—adrenaline moved through her like electricity. She let her body take over, swaying with the music, leaning into every chord even if each chord was basically a bright rectangle at this point.

Halfway through the set, she nearly collided with Lara's keyboard.

Yoonchae, without pausing her bass line, gently pushed Sophia back toward center stage with the headstock of her bass like she was herding a lost sheep.

The audience laughed—in a good way. Like Cloverleaf’s chaos was charming.

Finally, they wrapped the first song.

Sophia exhaled, heart hammering.

The next track began— “Adventure Of A Lifetime,” funky, groovy, accompanied with a catchy guitar riff.

Sophia took the lead riff again. Her fingers found each note like she’d carved them into her bones. The crowd moved with the beat. Lara’s voice swept through the venue, soft then soaring.

"You make me feel like I'm alive again!"

Sophia risked glancing up into the audience, even if all she’d see were blurs.

And then something sharpened.

Not clearly, but enough.

A pair of eyes.

Warm. Focused. Familiar in a way that hit her like a sudden spotlight.

Hazel ones. Watching her like she was the only person onstage.

And dark hair—that soft curls that she knew even when she pretended not to. Light hitting it just right.

Her breath stuttered.

Daniela.

Standing near the middle of the crowd, arms crossed, chin tilted, trying not to look impressed but clearly failing.

Sophia missed a chord.

Just one.

But she missed it.

Megan immediately barked, “Hey!” mid-beat.

Yoonchae glanced over, expression flat but amused.

Sophia flushed, barely able to process anything but the sudden clarity cutting through the blur of the lights.

Of course Daniela would be the one thing her useless, uncorrected eyes would still sharpen for.

Of course.

The second song ended with Lara’s lingering note hanging in the air.

The audience cheered.

Sophia just stood there, heart pounding, staring into the crowd where she’d seen her.

She blinked hard.

She wasn’t imagining it.

Daniela was actually here.

Watching her.

Sophia opened her mouth.

Nothing came out.

She blinked.

The world swam.

Her guitar felt like it weighed a metric ton.

She turned, slightly—

And froze.

Because even through the smear of stage lights and human silhouettes, she could still make out,

Daniela's eyes.

Daniela's hair.

Daniela.

Her brain made a very loud, very dramatic static noise.

She could hear the crowd chanting.

She could hear Megan laughing.

She could hear something in the back of her throat that might have been a dying goose.

But she could not, for the life of her, form a single coherent thought.

She could not remember how to breathe, how to speak, how to hold a guitar without dropping it on her own foot, what song came next, what her own name was.

She just stood there.

Buffering.

Like a corrupted file.

Lara noticed immediately.

She stepped smoothly to the mic, voice warm and bright as sunlight.

“Alright, everyone,” she purred, giving Sophia a quick sidelong look that said I GOT YOU, YOU DISASTER, “we’ve got time for one last song tonight.”

The crowd cheered instantly.

Sophia blinked again.

Her pulse, which had been a frantic drum solo in her throat, did not calm.

It escalated.

Lara continued, giving the moment room to breathe, giving Sophia time—

“Thank you so much for sticking with us. This last one is… uh… new. So bear with us if it gets a little emotional? Or not?”

Megan snorted behind her drums.

Yoonchae made a silent, judgmental thumbs-up toward Sophia.

Sophia did not process any of this.

She was locked on a single, impossible fact.

Daniela is here. Daniela is watching her.

Daniela has a look on her face that Sophia cannot decode and therefore cannot survive.

Then she noticed something.

Something very close.

Something she had not registered before because her brain had been busy performing a catastrophic failure.

A mic.

Right in front of her.

At mouth level.

Brand new.

She blinked once.

Twice.

Turned her head.

Yoonchae, at her bass, didn’t even look at her—just gave the smallest nod.

Go on. I know you can.

Her hands trembled. Her throat tightened.

She hadn’t written lyrics.

She still hadn’t.

She only had chords, tone, feeling, and this ache in her chest she didn’t have a name for.

Her breath caught.

Every neuron screamed.

Every instinct begged for flight.

But then, something shifted.

Not calm.

Not peace.

But resolution.

Sophia swallowed.

Her fingers tightened on the guitar neck.

Okay.

She’s here.

She’s watching.

She sees me.

And I am not going to break in front of her.

I am not going to run.

I am not going to hide.

I am going to play.

She could do that.

She knew how to do that.

Music was the one place she could breathe even when her heart was on fire.

And she had a mic.

She had a band.

She had a girl in the crowd who suddenly felt like sunlight even through a blur.

She drew in a breath.

She plucked the opening riff.

Megan caught on instantly and softened the drums into something like breathing.

Yoonchae wrapped low harmony around the guitar like warmth.