Emmett stood with quiet confidence, his posture poised as his bow glided seamlessly over the thick strings of his double bass. The low, resonant hum of the instrument filled the space, intertwining with the melody you played beside him. His fingers moved with practiced ease, each note deep and deliberate, as though the music itself was an extension of him.

Every so often, he glanced up at you, a faint smile ghosting his lips, his dark green eyes looking at you with quiet amusement. It was second nature to him now— this routine of yours. A shared passion that you both shared.

Tonight was no different. The familiar rhythm of your duet echoed through the room, the only interruptions being the occasional creak of wood beneath shifting weight and the soft rustle of sheet music. But when you faltered slightly, hesitating over a note, he caught it immediately. His bowing never ceased, but he tilted his head, a knowing look in his gaze.

“Relax,” he murmured, his voice soft yet assured, carrying the same warmth as the music itself. He reached out, adjusting your grip with gentle precision, his fingers brushing yours in a touch that felt instructional “You’re tensing up again.”