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The rehearsal room smelled like stale coffee, cheap deodorant, and nerves.
It clung to the back of Josh’s throat, heavy and sour, like something waiting to go wrong.
He sat on the edge of the worn leather couch, fingers dug into the knees of his jeans, bouncing his leg hard enough to make the cushions creak. Across the room, posters from old showcase acts peeled at the corners. A cracked mirror leaned against the wall beside a stack of unused mic stands. Everything about the place felt temporary.
Like them.
Down the hall, voices echoed — producers, assistants, someone laughing too loudly at something that probably wasn’t funny. And cutting through it all, unmistakable and sharp, was the voice of Simon Cowell.
Recruitment day for December10.
The day everything could change.
Or fall apart.
Josh dragged in a breath, but it felt thin. Unsteady. His lungs didn’t seem to want to cooperate.
Across the room, Danny pretended to tune his guitar. He’d been on the same string for the last three minutes.
Josh noticed. Of course he did.
Every glance Danny stole toward him was careful. Measured. Professional.
Because right now, they were nothing.
Just two hopeful musicians trying to make it into the same band.
Not the boys who had kissed in hotel hallways during small-town gigs.
Not the pair who had whispered about running away to Brighton if it all got too loud.
Not the person Josh reached for in the dark without thinking.
Josh swallowed.
His chest tightened suddenly — sharp and unforgiving — like someone had wrapped a thick band around his ribs and started pulling. He tried to breathe normally. Tried to pretend it was just nerves.
He wasn’t fine.
The room felt smaller. The lights buzzed too loud. His skin prickled like it didn’t fit properly anymore. His hands started to shake, sweat slicking his palms.
Not now. Please not now.
He bent forward slightly, elbows on his knees, trying to ground himself. Count five things you can see. Four you can feel. Three you can hear.
He could see the scuff on Danny’s left boot.
He could feel his pulse hammering in his throat.
He could hear Simon’s laugh again.
The walls tilted.
“Josh?”
Sean’s voice cut across the room.
Josh blinked. Sean was leaning back in one of the folding chairs, watching him with open concern. Hendrick sat beside him, tapping a rhythm against his thigh that faltered when he noticed Josh’s face.
“You alright, man?” Sean asked.
Josh nodded too fast. “Yeah. Yeah, I’m— I’m good.”
The lie tasted metallic.
He stood up, meaning to prove it, meaning to walk it off — and the floor shifted beneath him. His vision tunneled, black creeping in from the edges. The noise outside swelled into something unbearable, overlapping voices crashing together until he couldn’t separate them.
Danny saw it then.
The way Josh’s shoulders curled inward.
The way his fingers clawed at his hoodie.
The way his breathing stopped being breathing and started being survival.
Danny’s heart dropped straight into his stomach.
Screw being careful.
He crossed the room in three strides, stopping just short of touching him. Not because he didn’t want to — because he had to think.
“Hey,” Danny said softly, voice low and steady like Josh might shatter. “You with me?”
Josh tried to answer.
Nothing came out.
His breathing broke completely — shallow, jagged gasps that didn’t reach his lungs. His hands trembled violently now, eyes darting like he was searching for an exit that didn’t exist.
“I— Danny, I can’t—” His voice cracked. “I can’t do this.”
Sean stood immediately. “Is he—?”
“He’s panicking,” Hendrick said quietly, already moving closer but keeping space.
Danny didn’t hesitate anymore.
He turned toward the others. “We need a minute.”
“Simon’s gonna be in here any second,” Nicolas muttered from near the door.
“I don’t care,” Danny snapped — sharper than he meant to. Then his voice gentled as he turned back to Josh. “Come on. With me.”
He guided Josh toward the hallway, one hand hovering at his back — not touching, but close enough that Josh could feel him there. A silent promise.
They ducked into an empty side room — barely more than a storage closet with a spare chair and a cracked window — and Danny shut the door behind them.
The noise cut off.
The silence rang.
And Josh collapsed.
Danny caught him before he hit the floor.
Josh’s forehead pressed into Danny’s shoulder, fingers gripping his jacket like it was the only solid thing left in the world. His breath came in broken sobs now, panic spilling into tears he couldn’t hold back.
“I need you,” Josh choked. “I—I’m sorry, I know we can’t—”
“Hey.” Danny wrapped both arms around him, strong and sure, no hesitation left. “You don’t need to apologize. Ever.”
Josh shook his head frantically. “If they find out about us — what if it ruins everything? What if Simon says we’re a liability? What if they pick one of us and not the other?”
There it was.
The real fear.
Not just the audition.
Loss.
Danny pulled back just enough to cup Josh’s face, thumbs brushing under his eyes, catching tears before they could fall further. His own heart was racing, but his voice stayed steady.
“Listen to me. Right now, none of that matters. It’s just you and me, okay?”
Josh’s breathing stuttered.
“Look at me,” Danny murmured.
Josh forced his eyes up.
“That’s it. In through your nose. Slow. I’ve got you.”
Danny exaggerated his breathing — slow inhale, steady exhale — grounding himself first so Josh could follow.
One breath.
Josh copied him.
Another.
Still shaky. Still fragile. But less desperate.
“There you go,” Danny whispered. “That’s it.”
Josh clutched at him again, quieter now, exhaustion replacing the worst of the panic. “I just— I needed you so bad.”
Danny pressed his cheek against Josh’s hair. “I know. I always know.”
For a moment, the world outside that tiny room didn’t exist.
No judges.
No contracts.
No rules about who they were allowed to be.
Just the steady sound of breathing evening out.
Danny pressed a quick, careful kiss to Josh’s hair — nothing anyone could see if the door opened.
“I love you,” he whispered, barely louder than a breath.
Josh’s grip tightened like he was afraid Danny might disappear. “I love you too.”
The words felt dangerous.
But they felt necessary.
A sharp knock at the door shattered the quiet.
“Everything okay in there?” Hendrick’s voice.
Danny looked down at Josh. “You good enough to face them?”
Josh hesitated.
Then he nodded.
“Okay,” Danny said softly. “We don’t have to be fearless. We just have to walk back in.”
He squeezed Josh’s hand once — subtle, grounding — before letting go.
When they stepped back into the rehearsal room, the others pretended not to have been hovering.
Sean tossed Josh a bottle of water without comment. Nicolas gave him a small nod. Cruz, who’d been pacing, stopped and leaned against the wall, arms crossed but eyes sharp and protective.
Nobody asked questions.
Nobody made jokes.
And that alone steadied Josh more than anything.
The door swung open.
Simon Cowell stepped in, expression unreadable, producers flanking him like shadows.
“Right,” Simon said briskly. “Let’s not waste time.”
Josh felt the tremor threatening to return.
Danny moved just slightly — not touching — but standing close enough that Josh could feel the heat of him at his side.
Anchor.
They lined up.
One by one, they sang.
When it was Josh’s turn, his hands shook around the mic.
He glanced sideways.
Danny gave the smallest nod.
You’re okay.
Josh opened his mouth.
The first note wavered.
The second steadied.
By the chorus, his voice soared — not perfect, not polished — but raw in a way that made the room go still.
He sang like someone who had almost fallen apart and was choosing not to.
When he finished, silence hung heavy.
Simon leaned back in his chair.
“Interesting,” he said finally. “You’ve got something.”
Josh couldn’t tell if that was good or bad.
They were dismissed twenty minutes later, told to wait outside for deliberation.
The hallway felt colder now.
Danny brushed his fingers against Josh’s for half a second — hidden by the angle of their bodies.
“No matter what happens,” Danny murmured under his breath, “I’m not letting this break us.”
Josh looked at him — really looked at him.
“I was so scared,” he admitted quietly.
“I know.”
“I thought I was going to lose you.”
Danny’s jaw tightened. “You’re not losing me. Not to a contract. Not to him. Not to anything.”
Footsteps approached.
A producer stepped out, clipboard in hand.
“We’ve made a decision.”
The boys straightened.
Josh’s heart slammed so hard it hurt.
“We’re forming December10 with all six of you.”
For a split second, nobody reacted.
Then everything exploded at once — Sean shouting, Nicolas swearing loudly, Cruz laughing in disbelief. Hendrick pulled John into a hug. Someone nearly knocked over a chair.
Josh stood frozen.
All six.
Danny turned to him slowly.
All six.
They’d both made it.
Relief hit Josh so hard his knees almost buckled again — but this time Danny caught him laughing.
“You’re kidding,” Josh breathed.
Danny grinned — bright, disbelieving, beautiful. “Guess you’re stuck with me.”
Josh laughed — a little hysterical, a little teary. “Good.”
Simon stepped into the hallway, clapping his hands once to regain control.
“Enjoy it,” he said coolly. “But remember — image is everything. We build this carefully.”
His gaze lingered a second too long.
A warning.
Josh felt it like ice down his spine.
Danny felt it too.
But when Simon turned away, Danny leaned closer, voice low enough only Josh could hear.
“Let him build whatever image he wants.”
Josh swallowed. “And us?”
Danny’s hand brushed his again — fleeting, electric.
“We build us.”
The celebration carried them down the hall, into phone calls and paperwork and bright lights.
But later — much later — when the noise faded and the adrenaline wore off, they found themselves alone again in that same tiny side room.
This time, it didn’t feel like a hiding place.
It felt like a beginning.
Josh leaned back against the wall, exhausted but steady.
“I almost walked away today,” he admitted.
Danny stepped closer. “But you didn’t.”
Josh smiled faintly. “Because you were there.”
Danny reached for him without hesitation now. No cameras. No judges. Just them.
“We’re going to have to be careful,” Danny said softly.
“I know.”
“It won’t always be easy.”
Josh exhaled slowly. “It never has been.”
Danny rested his forehead against Josh’s again — familiar, grounding.
“Whatever December10 becomes,” he murmured, “whatever they say, whatever we have to hide for now — I’m choosing you. Every time.”
Josh’s hands slid into the fabric of Danny’s jacket, steady this time.
“Then I’m choosing you too.”
Outside, the future waited — contracts and expectations and rules about who they were allowed to be.
But in that small room, behind a closed door, they were just two boys who had survived the worst fifteen minutes of their lives and come out stronger.
Whatever came next —
They would face it together.
And for now, that was enough.