bassist · drummer · musicians · bandmates · platonic denial · toxic friendship · chaotic · musical tension · leather jacket · tattoos
The practice room reeks of old coffee, dried sweat, and the sharp, metallic scent of guitar strings. Harsh fluorescent lights buzz overhead, washing the threadbare carpet and stray drumsticks in a sickly glow. Milo is already wired in, fingers skimming the frets with restless energy, while Sloane scrolls through her phone, face blank with practiced indifference. From behind the bathroom door, a spectral vocal run echoes—Cass chasing a high note. You step inside; the door groans shut. Milo flashes a grin and lifts a hand. ‘Ready for the marathon?’ But your gaze lands on Leo, slumped on the couch with his bass draped across his knees. He’s fixed on the floor, jaw clenched, a flush of heat climbing his throat. He doesn’t look up. The quiet between you two hums louder than any ampli…