#1dvision

It starts, as most things do, with Ashton meddling. Calum knows something's about to go wrong the second Ashton goes quiet.

It's subtle, most people wouldn't notice it, but Calum's known him long enough to recognize the shift. It starts with the way his grin sharpens just a little.

Then, it is the way his eyes flick across the room like he's lining something up.

"Don't," Calum says immediately.

Ashton doesn't even look at him. “Didn't say anything."

"You were about to."

"I wasn't."

"You were literally thinking it."

"That's crazy," Ashton says, finally glancing over, completely unbothered. "You can hear my thoughts now?"

Calum narrows his eyes. "You're going to go talk to her."

Ashton shrugs. "Maybe I just want to make a new friend."

"You don't want to make a new friend."

"That's hurtful."

"You hate new people."

"I don't hate—" Ashton pauses. "...okay, that's not the point."

"It is the point," Calum says, sitting up straighter now, fully alert. "Don't go over there."

"Why not?"

"Because—" Calum stops.

Because what? Because it matters? Because it feels different? Because if Ashton goes over there, it becomes real in a way Calum isn't ready for?

He doesn't say any of that.

"Because you'll make it weird."

Ashton grins. "I make everything weird."

"Exactly."

"Relax," Ashton says, already standing up. "I'll be charming."

"That's worse."

Honestly, Ashton's already walking away. Calum watches him go, which is mistake number one.

Mistake number two is not stopping him. Mistake number three is looking over at her again.

She's still there in the spot, the easy posture, like she belongs anywhere she stands. She's listening to someone, nodding along, but her attention drifts, just slightly, as Ashton approaches.

Of course it does. Ashton has that effect on people: loud without being overwhelming.l and confident in a way that pulls focus without trying too hard.

Calum hates that it works. He watches as Ashton says something, something casual, something easy, and she smiles.

Of course she smiles. She laughs a second later, and Calum feels something twist in his chest again. It wasn’t sharp nor painful. Just... there.

Luke appears beside him like he's been summoned by the tension alone.

"He's actually doing it," Luke says, almost impressed.

"I told him not to."

"Yeah, that definitely stopped him."

Calum exhales, dragging a hand down his face. "This is a bad idea."

"Or," Luke says, nudging him slightly, "it's a very good idea."

Calum doesn't respond because across the room, Ashton turns, just slightly, and looks directly at him.

And then he gestures, not subtle, not discreet, a full, obvious come here motion.

Calum freezes. Again.

"Oh my—" Luke laughs under his breath. "You're kidding."

"I'm not going over there."

"You have to."

"I don't."

"He just called you over."

"I can ignore that."

"You can't ignore that."

Calum absolutely can. He proves it by looking away immediately, focusing very hard on literally anything else: the floorC, the wall, even condensation on his drink. Anywhere but there.

"Calum."

"I'm not doing it."

"Calum."

"I'm serious."

"Calum," Luke says, more firmly this time, "she's looking at you."

That gets him. Slowly, against his better judgment, Calum looks back.

And yeah, she is but not in a way that feels like pressure. It was expectant or impatient, more curious., like she is waiting to see what he'll do.

And suddenly, staying where he is feels worse than moving.

"...I hate you all," he mutters.

Luke grins. "Love you too. Go."

The walk over feels longer than it should.

It's not far. Logically, Calum knows that. It's maybe ten steps, fifteen, max.

Still, every single one feels like it matters.

It was as if he's being watched, like he might trip. It was he's about to say something stupid.

Ashton's already mid-conversation when Calum gets there, completely at ease, like this was always the plan.

"...and then he just stands there," Ashton is saying, clearly mid-story, "like someone paused him."

Calum stops dead. "You're unbelievable."

Ashton beams. "Perfect timing."

"Were you just—"

"Yes," Ashton says. "I was."

Calum closes his eyes briefly. Of course he was.

"Anyway," Ashton continues, turning back to her, "this is the guy I was talking about."

Calum opens his eyes. He's actually standing in front of her for the first time.

Up close, it's worse.

Or better.

He can't tell.

There's something softer about her expression now, something more focused. It was like she's seeing him properly, not just as someone across the room.

"Hi," she says.

Just that. Simple, yet somehow, it's enough to completely throw him off.

"Hi," he replies, a second too late.

Smooth.

Really smooth.

There's a tiny pause, not awkward, not quite, but noticeable enough that Calum feels it immediately. Ashton, of course, does not let it breathe.

"He's been staring at you all night," he says casually.

Calum chokes. "I have not—"

"She noticed," Ashton adds, completely ignoring him.

Calum looks at her, horrified. She doesn't look uncomfortable. If anything, she looks amused.

"A little," she says.

Calum wants the ground to open up and swallow him whole.

"I wasn't staring," he says quickly. "I just—looked. Like, once. Maybe twice. Not—"

He stops because he's making it worse. Definitely making it worse.

She tilts her head slightly, that same small smile from before playing at the edge of her lips.

"It's okay," she says. "I didn't mind."

And that, changes everything, slightly. Calum exhales, some of the tension easing out of his shoulders without him realizing it.

"Yeah?" he says, quieter now.

"Yeah."

Another small pause but this one feels different.

Lighter and easier. Ashton looks between them, clearly pleased with himself, like he's just orchestrated something brilliant.

Which, annoyingly, he has.

"Well," Ashton says, clapping his hands together once, "my work here is done."

Calum immediately tenses. "Don't you dare—"

"I'm going to go," Ashton continues, already stepping back, "before he starts pretending I don't exist."

"I don't—"

"Have fun," Ashton finishes, ignoring him completely.

And then he's gone, like that. Leaving Calum standing there, alone with her. For the first time, there’s a beat.

Calum rubs the back of his neck, suddenly aware of everything again. His hands. His posture. The fact that he has no idea what to say next.

"...sorry about him," he says.

She smiles. "No, it's okay. He seems fun."

"He's a nightmare."

"Mm," she hums, like she doesn't fully believe that.

Another pause.

Calum shifts his weight slightly. "I'm Calum, by the way."

"I know," she says.

His heart does something stupid.

"Yeah?"

"Yeah," she says, softer now. "Your friend said your name. Like, three times."

Calum huffs a quiet laugh. "Sounds like him."

"And you were staring," she adds, just to make it worse.

"I'm never going to recover from that, am I?"

"Probably not."

But she's smiling when she says it and somehow, that makes it okay.nAcross the room, Ashton is absolutely losing his mind.

Luke has a hand over his mouth, trying not to laugh. Michael is already pulling his phone out, probably to document this for future embarrassment.

Cassie spent the entire evening trying not to think about him which, unfortunately, only made her think about him more.

It was not in the dramatic way books always described it. There were no butterflies or daydreams or sudden realisations, just confusion. Quiet, persistent confusion because Ashton Irwin had looked at her like he actually saw her.

Not through her.

Not around her.

At her.

Somehow, that felt more terrifying than being invisible ever had.

By the next morning, she had convinced herself the interaction meant nothing. He was probably just friendly, the kind of person who could talk to anyone without overthinking it for the next twelve hours.

Unlike her.

Cassie adjusted the sleeves of her hoodie as she walked through the school gates, keeping her gaze fixed on the pavement.

It was a normal day, that was all this would be.

She made it exactly twenty three steps down the hallway before hearing someone jogging behind her.

“Okay, now I know you’re avoiding people.”

Her heart nearly stopped. Cassie turned too quickly, startled, and found Ashton slowing to a stop beside her, slightly out of breath like he’d actually hurried to catch up.

“You walk fast,” he said.

“I—what?”

A laugh slipped out of him, warm and effortless. “That’s your response?”

She blinked at him.

He looked unfairly awake for eight in the morning: messy curls pushed back beneath a beanie, school bag hanging lazily off one shoulder, that same easy expression on his face that somehow made her nervous and calm at the same time.

“I said you walk fast,” he repeated.

“Oh.” Cassie tightened her grip on her bag. “Sorry.”

“Why are you apologizing?”

Because she apologized for everything and taking up space always felt like something she needed forgiveness for. She couldn’t exactly say that out loud.

“I don’t know,” she muttered.

Ashton studied her for a second, not judgmental, just observant, like he was trying to understand her instead of assuming he already did. It made her chest feel strange.

“Well,” he said eventually, falling into step beside her, “I had to practically sprint to catch you, so now I’m counting this as cardio.”

Cassie huffed out a quiet laugh before she could stop herself. The sound surprised both of them.

His eyes widened slightly in mock shock. “Wait. Was that an actual laugh?”

She immediately ducked her head. “No.”

“Pretty sure it was.”

“You imagined it.”

“Wow,” Ashton said solemnly. “And here I thought we were building trust.”

Cassie shook her head, trying to hide the tiny smile threatening at the corners of her mouth. It faded slightly when a group of girls walked past them.

She saw it happen instantly: the quick glances, the subtle double takes toward Ashton, then toward her. Confusion was flickering across their faces like they couldn’t understand why he was talking to someone like Cassie Allbrighton.

Her stomach tightened. Automatically, she stepped a little farther away from him.

Ashton noticed. Of course he noticed. His expression shifted almost imperceptibly, amusement softening into something gentler.

“You okay?” he asked quietly.

Cassie nodded too quickly. “Yeah.”

He didn’t look convinced.

“I should probably go,” she said suddenly.

“What? Why?”

“Because class starts soon.”

“We have fifteen minutes.”

“Oh.”

There was that awkward silence again. Except somehow, it never felt unbearable with him. Cassie stared down at the floor tiles.

“You really hate people looking at you, huh?”

The question was soft. Careful. Not cruel. That almost made it worse.

Her throat tightened slightly. “I just don’t like attention.”

Ashton leaned against the lockers beside her, arms folded loosely. “You know, there’s a difference between not liking attention and looking like you’re waiting for people to disappear you.”

Her breath caught. He said things too honestly. Cassie swallowed hard, trying to ignore the sudden sting behind her ribs.

“You don’t know me,” she whispered.

The moment the words left her mouth, she regretted them. It was because they were untrue, because f the look on his face afterward.

It wasn’t a look of hurt, just thoughtful.

“You’re right,” Ashton said quietly. “I don’t.”

He straightened slightly, adjusting the strap of his bag.

“But I’d like to.”

Something inside her cracked a little at that.

Not dramatically. Not enough to fix anything. Just enough for light to slip through.

Cassie looked at him properly then. Really looked. She witness something dangerous, he meant it.

It was not in the casual way people said things they didn’t intend to follow through on. Not out of pity or boredom. He genuinely wanted to know her.

The bell rang before she could figure out what to do with that realization. Students immediately flooded the hallway around them.

Ashton stepped backward, walking in reverse for a second with a grin tugging at his mouth.

“See?” he said. “You didn’t disappear today either. That’s progress.”

Cassie rolled her eyes softly but before she could stop herself, she said

“Maybe you just keep finding me.”

For a second, Ashton looked startled. Then he smiled, not teasing this time, something softer.

“Maybe I do.”

The first chord rang out, cleaner this time. It was perfect, it never was, but close enough that no one stopped it.

Luke leaned into it, voice steadier than before, Calum followed without overthinking, Michael didn't rush, Ashton kept time like he always did, grounding everything without making a show of it and Arlo, this time, he didn't hold back.

There was a difference between singing with them and singing into it. He realised that halfway through the second verse.

The sound didn't feel crowded anymore. It didn't feel like five separate people trying to be heard.

It felt like something... connected.

Messy. Slightly off in places. But real.

When the last note faded, no one spoke, not immediately. Luke looked at the camera like he didn't trust himself to say it out loud.

"...We're using that."

Michael pushed himself up onto his elbows "Yeah?"

"Yeah."

Calum nodded once. "Yeah."

Ashton didn't say anything, just reached forward and stopped the recording. That was his version of agreement.

Arlo stayed where he was on the floor, guitar still resting against him.

"That one wasn't terrible," he said.

Luke exhaled a laugh. "High praise."

"I'm generous."

"You're annoying."

"Also true."

Uploading it wasn't dramatic, that's the part people never really understand later. There was no big pause and no this could change everything moment.

Luke sat cross-legged with his laptop, frowning slightly as the video processed. Michael leaned over his shoulder, offering completely unhelpful suggestions.

"Add 'amazing' in the title."

"No."

"'Best cover ever.'"

"No."

"'Featuring mysterious fifth member.'"

Luke paused then slowly turned his head.

Arlo, from the floor, interjected "Don't you dare."

Calum lost it. Ashton actually laughed, properly, not just a breath through his nose, and that alone was enough to throw everyone off for a second.

"Just post it," Ashton said.

So Luke did.

Click.

Upload.

Done.

Nothing happened.

For a while, anyway.

They didn't sit around watching the views tick up.

They didn't refresh the page every five seconds like it mattered. They moved on and talked about other songs. Then they argued about what to do next.

Michael started playing something completely unrelated. Calum joined in just to annoy him.

Normal.

It wasn't until later, hours later,  that Luke checked.

"...Wait."

He leaned forward slightly. "Wait."

Michael looked over. "What?"

Luke turned the screen "Is that... normal?"

Arlo stood up, crossing the room without thinking. The number wasn't huge: not viral, not insane. However, it was climbing.

It was climbing faster than the last one, quicker than anything they'd posted before.

"Did you share it somewhere?" Calum asked.

"No," Luke said.

Michael squinted. "Refresh it."

Luke did and the number jumped again. There was a pause.

Not loud. Not chaotic. The opposite. Quiet in a way that felt... unfamiliar.

"...That's weird," Michael said.

"Good weird," Calum added.

Ashton folded his arms. "People are watching."

It sounded obvious but it didn't feel like it. Arlo didn't say anything. He was looking at the comments.

They were starting to come in faster now. There were not loads but enough.

who's the new guy?

his voice?? hello???

wait this is actually really good

why have i never seen them before

the blonde one + the dark haired one harmonising???

"...They mean you," Michael said suddenly.

Arlo blinked. "What?"

Michael pointed at the screen. "Mysterious fifth member. That's you."

"I told you not to call me that."

"I didn't. The internet did."

Luke glanced at him. Not obvious. Not a big moment. Just a look that lingered a second longer than before. Like he was trying to figure something out.

"You staying?" Calum asked, out of nowhere.

It wasn't heavy and didn't sound like a big question but it landed like one.

Arlo shrugged, leaning back against the wall. "You guys need me?"

Michael answered immediately. "Debatable."

"Emotionally?" Arlo shot back. "Yes."

"Absolutely not."

"Deep down, you'd fall apart without me."

"I'd thrive."

"You'd spiral."

"Stay," Luke said.

Just those simple words, as if it wasn't a question.

The room stilled for half a second. Then Ashton nodded once, like it had already been decided.

"Yeah."

Calum grinned. "Yeah."

Michael rolled his eyes. "Fine. But if your ego gets worse, we're voting you out."

"It's already perfect," Arlo said.

"That's what I'm worried about."

Arlo looked at them, really looked. He looked at the way they fit together: not neatly, not cleanly, but in a way that worked anyway.

All the noise, the chaos, the constant movement. He looked at the fact that, somehow, he was in the middle of it now.

"...Alright," he said.

Luke refreshed the page again. The number climbed. None of them said it out loud but something had shifted.

Not big.

Not yet.

Michael told himself he wasn't going to go over there. He stayed where he was for a while, half-hidden behind a group of people who were too loud to notice anything beyond themselves.

It gave him the perfect excuse to linger, to look without being obvious about it but it didn't stop him from looking.

Maddie hadn't moved much. She shifted her weight from one foot to the other, occasionally nodding along to conversations, smiling when expected, but there were moments in between where she seemed somewhere else entirely.

It was like she was only halfway in the room. Michael knew that feeling, that was probably why he noticed her at all.

He dragged a hand through his hair, exhaling under his breath, this was stupid. It didn't matter, she was just a girl at a party. There were hundreds of those. Thousands. So why her?

Before he could overthink it any further, his feet made the decision for him and suddenly, he was there.

Up close, everything felt sharper. The music wasn't as loud here, like it dulled around her somehow or maybe that was just in his head.

Maddie didn't notice him at first. She was looking down at her drink, lightly tapping her finger against the side of the cup, like she was counting something only she could hear.

Michael hesitated as this as the part he usually avoided: the part where you had to actually say something.

He wasn't great at that, not like people thought he was. Still, he didn't walk away.

"Not your scene either?"

The words came out a little rough, a little quieter than he meant, but enough.

Maddie looked up. Recognition flickered almost instantly, not the over-the-top kind, not excitement or shock, just a small, knowing look, like she'd expected him to eventually walk over.

"Is it that obvious?" she asked.

Her voice was soft, but steady. No nerves. No trying too hard.

Michael shrugged, shifting his weight slightly. "Only if you're looking for it."

A corner of her mouth lifted.

"So... you were looking?" she asked.

There it was. Most people would've said it like a joke. She didn't. She just asked.

Michael huffed out a quiet breath, glancing briefly to the side before looking back at her. "Maybe."

Maddie tilted her head just slightly, studying him now in the same way he'd been studying her earlier.

It wasn't uncomfortable. If anything, it felt fair.

"Then I guess that makes two of us," she said.

That caught him off guard.

"You were looking for people who don't belong?" he asked.

She shook her head. "No” a small pause "For people who notice."

That landed heavier than it should have. Michael didn't respond right away. He just watched her, trying to decide if she meant it the way it sounded. It felt like she did.

Around them, someone laughed loudly, a glass clinked, the music shifted into something faster, heavier but neither of them moved.

"Do you want to get out of here?" Michael asked suddenly.

It slipped out before he could stop it. Maddie blinked, clearly not expecting that, but she didn't look uncomfortable, more surprised.

"You don't even know me," she said.

"Yeah," he replied. "I know."

A beat.nThen, quieter "Feels like I should."

Something in her expression softened again, that same way it had when she first caught him looking at her.

It was like she understood more than he'd actually said.

Maddie glanced around the room briefly, like she was giving it one last chance to convince her to stay. It didn't.

When she looked back at him, her answer was already there.

"Okay," she said.

Just that.

No hesitation.

No conditions.

And somehow, that made it feel bigger than it should have. Michael nodded once, like he didn't trust himself to say anything else without breaking whatever this was.

He turned, gesturing slightly toward the exit, and she fell into step beside him without needing direction.

They didn't touch, not yet, but they didn't drift apart either.

The noise faded with every step, the bass softening into a dull echo as the door came into view.

The studio lights were too bright. Kyle could feel them even before he stepped on set — heat pressing against his skin, the kind that made everything feel sharper than it should.

The audience was small but close, seated in a curved row that made the space feel intimate in a way that was almost dangerous.

Live television.

No second takes. No rewrites.

"Thirty seconds," someone called.

Kyle adjusted the mic clipped to his collar, fingers steady out of pure will. He'd done interviews his whole life: cheerful, polished, easy. He knew how to smile at the right moments, how to deflect questions with just enough charm to keep people satisfied.

But tonight wasn't going to be that kind of interview. He could feel it. Across the studio, the host flashed him a bright, practiced smile, too bright, the kind that meant they already knew what they were going to ask.

Kyle exhaled slowly. In the front row, half-hidden in shadow, Brede

sat still.

Not waving. Not drawing attention.

Just there.

That was enough.

"Welcome back," the host said as the cameras rolled. "Tonight we're joined by one of Europe's most talked-about artists right now, Kyle Alessandro."

Applause filled the studio. Kyle smiled, nodded, sat.

"First of all," the host continued, "that performance of Something Real... people haven't stopped talking about it."

"Thank you," Kyle said softly.

"You've had an incredible few months: Eurovision, the success, and now this very personal moment in your music." The host leaned in slightly. "Would you say this is the most honest you've ever been publicly?"

Kyle paused. There were a hundred safe answers he could give.

Instead, he said, "Yes."

The audience shifted, sensing something real. The host smiled, just a fraction sharper now. "That honesty has sparked a lot of conversation."

Kyle nodded. "I've noticed."

A few quiet laughs from the audience but the host didn't laugh.

"In fact," they continued, "people aren't just talking about the music. They're talking about who inspired it."

There it was. Kyle felt his heartbeat in his throat.

"Your recent appearances," the host said carefully, "have been... closely observed. And there's been a lot of speculation about someone named Brede Bremnes."

The name landed in the room like a dropped glass. Kyle didn't look at Brede, not yet. Instead, he kept his eyes on the host.

"Is that speculation true?"

Silence.

Not awkward.

Not empty.

Just waiting.

Kyle's instincts screamed at him: deflect, soften, redirect but then he remembered the stage, the song and the look he hadn't been afraid to hold.

He let out a slow breath.

"Yes."

It wasn't loud. It didn't need to be. The audience reacted instantly — a ripple of surprise, whispers, something electric moving through the room.

The host blinked, just once, caught off guard by how simple the answer had been.

"Yes," Kyle repeated, steadier now. "He's important to me."

There was no label, no explanation and no performance. Just truth.

The host recovered quickly. "That's... a big moment. A lot of people will be hearing that very clearly."

Kyle nodded. "I hope they hear the music just as clearly."

A few people in the audience smiled at that.

The host leaned back slightly, studying him. "Was it difficult to decide to be open about this?"

Kyle thought about it.

About the cabin.

About the silence.

About the moment everything had almost slipped away because he was too afraid to hold onto it.

"Yes," he said honestly. "It still is."

"Because of the public reaction?"

Kyle shook his head "Because it's real," he said.

That shifted something in the room, the tension didn't disappear but it changed shape: softer and more human.

The host nodded slowly. "And Brede, is he here tonight?"

Kyle hesitated for half a second, then he looked. For the first time since the interview started, he let his eyes find him. Brede didn't move and react but their gaze locked and that was enough.

"Yes," Kyle said quietly.

The camera followed his line of sight: not zooming in, not exposing, but enough to confirm.

A silhouette. A presence. Real.

After the interview, the studio felt louder than before. Producers began moving quickly, crew members whispering and phones already lighting up with reactions.

Kyle stepped offstage, pulse racing in a way that had nothing to do with fear anymore. He barely had time to breathe before Brede was in front of him. For a second, they just looked at each other.

"You said it," Brede said softly.

Kyle nodded, still catching up with himself.

"Yeah."

"How do you feel?"

Kyle let out a breath that felt like it had been building for months.

"Like I didn't run."

Brede's expression shifted — something proud, something softer.

"You didn't," he said.

Kyle laughed quietly. "That might be a first."

Brede stepped closer, voice low enough that no one else could hear.

"You're getting good at this."

"At what?"

"Telling the truth when it would be easier not to."

Kyle's chest tightened.

"Stay with me?" he asked, the words slipping out before he could overthink them.

Brede didn't hesitate "I'm not going anywhere."

Outside, the world was already reacting.

Headlines. Clips. Reposts.

But for once, Kyle didn't check and he didn't need to because the most important thing had already happened.

By the third night, she told herself she wasn't waiting. That would be pathetic, embarrassing, even.

She had a job to do, a shift to get through: stock to check, a register to run, a life that very much did not revolve around a certain band's sudden obsession with tiramisu.

And yet 10:07 PM came around. She'd already checked the dessert fridge twice.

At 10:12 PM she adjusted the display of chocolate bars that didn't need adjusting.

At 10:19 PM, her eyes flicked to the doors again.

"...not waiting," she muttered under her breath.

Right. Of course. Totally believable.

The shop was quieter than usual tonight, if that was even possible. The air felt heavier, like it was holding onto something that hadn't happened yet or maybe she was just overthinking.

She was overthinking. Obviously. They weren't coming back. Two nights in a row was already weird. Three was pushing it into concerning behavior territory.

She huffed softly and leaned back against the counter, crossing her arms.

"Get over it," she whispered.

The automatic doors stayed shut, until 10:26 PM.

A couple came in, went to get milk, then left.

At 10:33 PM an older man wandered the aisles for ten minutes before leaving with nothing.

10:41 PM: nothing. Her gaze drifted to the fridge again. It was stocked still perfect. Still—

Whoosh.Her head snapped up before she could stop herself. The doors slid open and for a split second, nothing.

No loud voices heard, no laughter. Just one person stepped inside. Her stomach dropped.

Oh. Not them.

She quickly looked down, pretending to be busy with the register, trying to ignore the tiny flicker of disappointment that crept in.

It was fine. Of course it was fine. Why wouldn't it be? She tapped a few buttons aimlessly.

Then "Guess we're late."

Her head lifted so fast it almost hurt. That voice was so familiars

Luke stepped through the doors, holding them open as the others followed behind him, a little more subdued than the previous nights, but still very much them.

Her heart did that thing again, the annoying,

fluttery, completely uncontrollable thing.

"Oh my god," she breathed under her breath, quickly straightening up.

Okay.mOkay. Act normal. Act like this isn't the third night in a row they've shown up. Act like you didn't just feel disappointed five seconds ago.

"Cutting it close," she said instead, glancing at the clock. "We close in twenty."

"Plenty of time for important decisions," one of them said, already heading for the fridge.

"Very important," another agreed.

Luke didn't follow them this time. He walked straight up to the counter, like he meant to, like that was the plan.

Her pulse quickened.

"Hey," he said.

There it was again, that hey, somehow more familiar now.

"Hey," she replied, a little softer than she intended.

He rested his hands lightly on the counter, glancing around the empty shop.

"Busy night?"

She snorted. "As you can see."

"Right," he nodded, lips twitching. "Thriving, actually."

"Absolutely packed."

They shared a small smile. God, this was getting dangerously easy. Behind him, the others were arguing, quietly this time, about how many to get.

"Three is too many."

"It's not too many."

"It's definitely too many."

"It's not enough."

She shook her head slightly, amused despite herself.

"They've really committed to this," she said.

"Yeah," Luke glanced back briefly, then leaned in just a little, voice dropping, "I think it's become a problem."

"You're enabling them."

"You're the one selling it," he pointed out.

"Wow," she placed a hand over her chest dramatically, "blaming the staff? That's low."

He laughed, it was soft, it sounded genuine and closer this time. It settled somewhere in her chest in a way she wasn't ready to unpack.

There was a pause, a slightly longer one than before. It was uncomfortable. It was just... heavier, as if something was shifting.

"You always work here?" he asked.

"Most nights," she said. "Unless I get lucky and someone swaps shifts with me."

"Do you want to?"

She blinked "What?"

"Swap shifts," he clarified quickly. "Or... not be here, I mean."

There was no judgment in his voice, more curiosity.nShe leaned back slightly, considering

"It's not that bad," she said after a moment. "Just... boring."

He nodded like he understood that.

"Yeah," he said. "I get that."

She tilted her head "Do you?"

A small smile tugged at his lips "More than you'd think."

Before she could respond, the others returned, arms full again, slightly fewer this time, but still excessive by any normal standard.

"Don't comment," one of them warned her immediately.

She held up her hands. "I said nothing."

"Your face said everything."

"That's not my problem."

Luke shook his head, amused, as they set the tiramisu down. She started scanning again.

Beep.

Beep.

Beep.

"You're closing soon, right?" Luke asked casually.

"Yeah."

"What time do you finish?"

Her fingers paused for just a fraction of a second.

Not long enough for anyone else to notic but long enough for her to feel it.

"...ten minutes after closing," she said carefully. "Why?"

There it was, the question hanging between them. He hesitated, slightly. Then he shrugged, like it wasn't a big deal.

"Just wondering."

Sure. Just wondering. She handed over the receipt, trying to ignore the way her heartbeat had picked up again.

"Try not to clear out the entire fridge," she said lightly.

"No promises," one of them replied.

They started heading toward the door same as always. It was like a routine, familiar now.

But, Luke didn't move right away.

He lingered. Again. Her breath caught. He looked at her, really looked this time.

"Hey," he said quietly.

"Yeah?"

Another pause. Longer, like he was deciding something. Then, he spoke up again

"We're probably coming back tomorrow."

Her eyebrows lifted slightly "Oh?"

He nodded.

"For tiramisu?" she asked.

A hint of a smile came on his face

"Yeah," he said.

Then, after a beat "And maybe... to see you."

Her heart stopped, actually topped. For a full second. Maybe two.

She didn't trust her voice. Didn't trust her brain, so she went with the safest option. A small smile.

"Dangerous habit," she said.

"Yeah," he agreed softly.

Then he stepped back, turned and followed the others out. The doors slid shut behind him.

Silence filled the shop again but it felt different. Louder.Brighter.

It was full of something she couldn't quite name. She stood there, staring at the entrance, her heart still racing.

"...okay," she whispered to herself.

Sydney didn't care about them, not really. It moved too fast, too loud, too full of people who already were something for a group of boys sitting on bedroom floors with cheap guitars and a borrowed camera.

They weren't a band, not officially. Not yet at least. They were just trying.

The first video was filmed in Luke's room and the lighting was bad, the audio was much worse.

Someone's mum walked past the door halfway through and didn't even bother closing it.

"Stop—stop, no, we're doing it again," Luke laughed, dropping his head forward as the last chord buzzed out of tune.

"Mate, we've done it like six times," Michael said, dragging a hand through his hair, already impatient. "It's an acoustic cover, not the Bohemian Rhapsody."

Calum snorted from where he sat on the edge of the bed. "You're the one who keeps messing up the harmony."

"I'm not—"

"You are."

"Am not—"

"You are."

"Guys," Ashton cut in, leaning back against the wall, arms folded. "Either we post something, or we keep sitting here arguing until we're forty."

There was a pause. Then, from the floor

"You could just admit I sound better than all of you and we'd move on."

All four of them turned. Arlo didn't even look up, he kept strumming lazily, like he hadn't just said it.

Michael blinked. "You've been in the band for five minutes."

"Exactly," Arlo said. "Fresh talent."

Calum threw a pillow at him. It missed completely.

Arlo Dion hadn't planned on being there. That was the thing, he wasn't part of some lifelong dream like the others talked about. He hadn't grown up imagining stadiums or screaming fans or his name on anything.

He'd just... shown up, more like a friend of a friend. A voice someone had heard once and gone, wait, do that again.

And suddenly he was sitting on Luke's bedroom floor, guitar in hand, being told

"Sing the second verse."

Like it was nothing. Like it wasn't quietly shifting everything.

"Alright," Luke said finally, sitting up straighter.

"One more time. Properly."

"Define properly," Arlo muttered.

"No talking, no messing around, no..whatever that was you just did."

"I improved it."

"You didn't improve it."

"I elevated it."

Michael groaned. "Please stop saying words like that."

Ashton clapped once, sharp. "Focus."

They all stilled. For a second, it felt different. Not bigger. Not important. Just... aligned.

Luke counted them in. “One, two, three”

The chords came in cleaner this time. Calum steadied the rhythm. Michael leaned in, actually paying attention. Ashton kept time against his knee, quiet but constant.

And Arlo, for once, didn't joke. He didn’t interrupt and didn’t try to prove anything.

He just sang. It wasn't perfect, the audio still clipped, someone hit a wrong note halfway through and a car passed outside and drowned out part of the bridge.

But when it ended, no one spoke straight away. It wasn’t because they thought it was amazing but it felt like something.

"...That was alright," Michael said eventually, like it cost him.

"Yeah," Calum added. "Not terrible."

Luke looked at the camera, then back at them.

"We're posting it."

Arlo raised an eyebrow. "That's your big decision? 'Not terrible'?"

Ashton stood, already reaching to grab the camera. "It's better than nothing."

They didn't think about views or subscribers or even what could happen. They didn't think about how a few acoustic covers filmed in a messy bedroom in Sydney could travel further than they ever had.

They didn't think about the name that would start appearing under their videos:

5 Seconds of Summer

They didn't think about fire fans, tours, anything really.

It started with something small, it always did.

After Rehearsal, the music room was quieter than usual.

Most people had already left, chairs pushed in unevenly, sheet music scattered like someone had abandoned a thought halfway through. The late afternoon light spilled through the windows, soft and gold.

Kyle sat on the edge of the piano bench, fingers idly pressing random keys, not a melody, not a song either, it was just noise.

Restless.

He didn't notice Cory at first.

"Those aren't chords."

Kyle glanced up, startled, then relaxed slightly.

"They're abstract."

"They're chaotic."

Kyle smirked faintly. "Same thing."

Cory stepped further into the room, closing the door behind him. The soft click echoed louder than it should have.

"You stayed late," Cory said.

"So did you."

"I had a reason."

Kyle raised an eyebrow. "And I don't?"

Cory didn't answer immediately. Instead, he walked closer: slow, deliberate, like he wasn't entirely sure what he was doing, but wasn't stopping himself either.

Kyle noticed. Of course he did.

"Did she talk to you again?" Kyle asked suddenly, looking back at the piano keys.

Cory blinked. "No."

Kyle nodded once, like that mattered more than he wanted it to.

"Good," he muttered.

Silence. Then

"You were jealous."

Kyle let out a quiet breath. "We've established that."

"I'm still analyzing it."

Kyle laughed softly. "Of course you are."

Cory stopped in front of him now. Close. Closer than usual.

"You didn't deny it," Cory said.

Kyle looked up at him.

"No," he said quietly. "I didn't."

There was no joke in his voice this time. No deflection, but truth and suddenly, the room felt smaller.

Cory's heartbeat picked up. He didn't like that, or he did, but that was the problem.

"You said I confuse you," Cory said.

"You do."

"Why?"

Kyle held his gaze "Because you say things like they're facts," he said softly. "But they don't feel like facts."

Cory frowned slightly. "That's not possible."

"It is when it's you."

That didn't make sense. It should have but it didn't. For once, Cory didn't try to force it into something logical.

"Then explain it," he said quietly.

Kyle stood up. Now they were standing face to face, too close. Cory could feel the warmth of him, the faint scent of something clean and familiar, the uneven rhythm of his own breathing.

"I can't," Kyle admitted. "That's the point."

Cory swallowed “That's inefficient."

Kyle smiled faintly. "Yeah."

Neither of them moved. Kyle's eyes flicked, just for a second, to Cory's lips. Cory noticed. Of course he did.

His brain tried to process it but that was a fail because suddenly, none of the usual systems were working.

No categories. No predictions. No safe distance.

Just this.

Kyle shifted forward, barely. Cory didn't step back. Their breath mixed in the space between them and for a moment, it felt inevitable.

It was like gravity. Like something that had been building since a slice of pizza and a bad joke in the cafeteria.

Cory's hand twitched slightly at his side. Kyle's breath caught. Another inch.

Then, a loud bang echoed down the hallway. It was a locker slamming.

Voices. Reality snapping back into place. Kyle stepped back first, fast, it was way, way too fast.

"Yeah, okay," he said quickly, running a hand through his hair. "That was—uh—"

Cory's chest felt tight.

"Yes," he said.

Very helpful.

Kyle laughed nervously. "We should probably not—"

"Correct."

Silence.

Thick.

Awkward.

Charged in a completely different way now.

Cory cleared his throat. "I should go."

"Yeah," Kyle said. "Me too."

Neither of them moved for a second. Then Cory turned and headed for the door. He paused, hand on the handle.

"...That didn't feel like a misunderstanding," he said without turning.

Kyle didn't answer right away. When he did, his voice was quieter than usual.

"No," he said. "It didn't."

Cory nodded once, then he left. Kyle stood alone in the music room, staring at the piano keys.