Track Five
Rehearsal runs longer than it should, not because the choreography is difficult, but because Daniela keeps missing counts. Not enough to stop the music, just enough that Megan notices first, then Lara.
"Five, six—Dani," Sophia calls gently when Daniela comes in a half-second late.
"Sorry," Daniela murmurs, shaking it off. She tries to focus, really tries, but her mind keeps drifting. The mirrors feel louder today. The music is harder to settle into. Manon catches her eye through the reflection and raises an eyebrow, and Yoonchae laughs softly.
"Unnie, you okay?"
Daniela forces a smile. "Yeah. Just distracted."
When they finally break, the girls collapse onto the floor in loose laughter and water bottles. Megan nudges Daniela's shoulder. "You've been somewhere else all day," she says. "This isn't like you."
"It's nothing," Daniela replies, twisting the cap on her bottle. But nothing feels like this—like a quiet pull she can't name. Her phone vibrates once beside her bag. Her heart jumps before she even looks, then settles when it's not you. She exhales slowly, realizing how much she'd been hoping.
The night before, Daniela had stared at her ceiling long after the city outside her window went quiet. Her phone rested in her hand, your name glowing on the screen like a question she wasn't sure she wanted answered.
She typed. Deleted. Tried again.
Finally, she sent it.
She regretted it almost immediately. Until your reply came through.
That was all it took.
The conversation unfolded slowly, carefully. No flirting. No rushing. Just honesty slipping through the spaces. Daniela talked about pressure, about always being seen, always being expected to be perfect. You listened. When you did speak, it was steady.
y/n: you don't always have to carry it alone.
She stared at that message longer than she should have. Smiled despite herself. And just as quickly, felt something tighten in her chest. It felt dangerous.
The studio the next day feels different.
Not colder. Just... tighter.
You're already there when Daniela arrives, eyes on the screen, headphones resting around your neck. "Hey," you say, professional. Controlled.
"Hey," she replies, searching your face.
You keep things moving. Levels. Notes. Timing. The pauses are gone now. No lingering silence, no shared stillness. When she speaks, you listen, but from a distance. Careful. Measured.
Daniela feels it immediately.
She doesn't say anything. She just sits with it. The way your eyes don't stay on hers. The way your voice never strays from neutral. Safe.
At one point, she almost asks if she did something wrong.
But the session ends before she can.
As she gathers her things, she glances back once more. You're already turned toward the console, hands busy, focus locked in.
The distance isn't loud.
That's what makes it hurt.
The studio is quiet again.
Too quiet.
After your first studio session with Daniela, you pretty much slept there, had your own sleeping set up for moments like this. Staring at the screen like it might give you answers if you look long enough. The time in the corner reads 1:42 a.m. Around the same time it was the night before.
Your phone had been in your hand then too. Her name lighting up the screen, unexpected and somehow exactly where your thoughts already were.
You remember smiling. Just a little. The kind you don't notice until it's already there.
You told yourself it was harmless. A reply wouldn't hurt.
But the messages kept coming. Slow at first. Careful. Then longer. Easier. She talked about pressure, about always being seen. You listened the way you always do—fully, without interruption.
That was the problem.
You felt it shift somewhere around two a.m. When you stopped thinking like a producer and started thinking like someone who cared.
"you don't always have to carry it alone."
The moment you sent it, something tightened in your chest.
Because you meant it.
And meaning it meant risk.
You've seen how this goes. Lines blur. Feelings grow where they shouldn't. And suddenly the thing you love; music, stability, control. It gets tangled with someone you don't know how to lose.
So you did what you always do.
You pulled back.
Not because you didn't want her but because you wanted her enough to know how badly it could hurt.
You lock up the studio, lights dimming one by one, her voice still echoing faintly in your head.
This is safer, you tell yourself.
Even if it doesn't feel that way.
Back to Present Day: Your POV
"Damn what the fuck am i doing"... you say after Daniela leaves.
You felt like a dick. The whole time she was trying to make conversation with you and you just kept dismissing her.
You kept trying to convince yourself it was to protect the both of you but you knew that wasn't true.
You held out your phone wanting to apologize or even explain yourself.
But you just couldn't, because you knew if you said something you wouldn't stop.
So instead, you did what you knew best.
Got high and pulled an overnighter in the studio once again.. Just to distract yourself from the growing feelings you want to deny so bad.
Okay since I'm pretty much snowed in, in ny right now, im gonna lock in.
My job and classes got cancelled for monday so ima do better for the next two days.
I honestly was going for a slow burn with this book, but I'm getting impatient and this is my book so I might push into the situationship a little faster.