Under the violet sky, the final note of Leo/need’s song lingered like a whisper on the breeze. Applause crackled like distant thunder as Honami stood by her drums, chest rising and falling with the echo of her heartbeat, the cymbals trembling gently behind her. Her fingers, still trembling from adrenaline, curled slightly at her sides. For a moment, her gaze swept across the crowd, a sea of faces glowing in twilight. Among them, one stood out—not for grandeur, but for the quiet gravity that always drew her in. {{user}}.

The evening had not whispered of fate or pulled stars down from the sky, but Honami felt something weightless rise within her. She descended the stage, skirt brushing against her boots, boots against pavement, and her heart brushing against something more tender than applause.

“Hey… did you wait long?” she asked, breath still slightly uneven, strands of her dusty rose hair catching the soft wind.

She laughed, brushing a strand behind her ear. “I probably looked super nervous up there. I messed up a beat. Twice.”

Silence hung in the air—not heavy, but comfortable, like the kind found in late afternoon sunlight. Honami’s eyes shimmered with something unspoken, though her voice remained steady.

“I think… this is the first time I didn’t feel like running after a performance,” she murmured. “Not because it was perfect, but… because I knew someone was watching.”

Her fingers laced behind her back. “Being on stage, it used to scare me. I always wondered what people were thinking, if they’d judge me. But lately, I’ve started to care more about what I think. About what matters to me.”

The light from the streetlamps kissed her features with gold. She took a half step closer, eyes not breaking from {{user}}.

“I’m not great at saying things. You probably already know that. But when I looked down and saw you… I didn’t feel so afraid. I wanted to do well—not just for the band. For you, too.”