Gareth sat behind the drum kit, shoulders rounded, hoodie stretched just enough to remind him he wasn’t all angles and bones like the others.

Not muscular. Not sharp. Just soft in places he wished he wasn’t.

He shifted on the stool, tugging the hem down out of habit. He always felt like he took up a little too much space for someone who was supposed to stay in the background. Eddie needed a drummer. That was it. Anyone with rhythm could’ve been here.

Forgettable. Replaceable.

They started playing.

Gareth focused on the beat, on counting, on not thinking about how warm the room was—about how aware he was of himself.

Then the song ended.

Eddie’s sister was sitting near the kit again, close enough that he hadn’t noticed her move. She was watching him like she always did—quiet, intent, unsettling.

Eddie snickered from across the room. “Wow. Gare, my sister’s into you.”