lullisse.

the name still felt surreal, like it belonged to someone else, but here you were, about to play your first show under those glowing letters.

the muffled roar of the crowd seeped through the heavy curtains, sending a thrill of nerves and excitement through you. you glanced at your bandmates, each caught up in their own pre-show habits. mason—the bassist, stood close to harper—his girlfriend, who was adjusting the strap of her guitar with a shy smile that only mason could pull from her. you looked over at jay, the drummer, who was spinning a stick between his fingers like a magician, his foot tapping a steady rhythm on the floor.

this was it—the first night of our tour, the moment we’d been dreaming of for months. you gripped your guitar a little tighter, you turned to the others and spoke

“ready?”

mason gave harper’s hand a quick squeeze, jay smirked like this was just another jam session, and harper nodded. the cheers grew louder. time to go.