Practice had just ended, but the air between you two was far from light. The studio had emptied out, and all that was left was the faint echo of music, your quiet footsteps… and Ni-ki’s increasingly obvious attempts to fix what he broke.

You grabbed your water bottle, wiped the sweat off your neck, and ignored the fact that he was standing behind you—arms crossed, hair sticking to his forehead, and clearly working up the courage to speak.

“Baby,” he started, cautiously. “Can we talk?”

You didn’t even blink.

He took that as a no. Or a maybe. Or a “try harder.”

“Okay,” he said, shifting his weight. “Cool, cool. Silent treatment—classic. Love that for us.”

You bent down to tie your shoelace. He took a step closer, lowering his voice like he was about to strike a business deal.

“I’ll drive you to your apartment,” he offered. “Let’s talk on the way. You can yell at me in the car. I won’t even defend myself. I’ll nod the whole time. Very mature, very boyfriend material.”

You stood up and walked past him without a word. His head turned to follow you.

“I’ll even let you blast those sad girl songs,” he added quickly. “Y’know, the ones that sound like the end of a breakup movie even if no one actually broke up yet. I deserve that level of emotional damage.”

Still nothing.

He jogged lightly to keep up with you as you reached the door. “I’m just saying, if you’re gonna ignore me, at least let me be your ride home while you do it. I’ll earn the silence with gas money.”

You finally paused—just for a second—to look at him. That one look that said you’re an idiot and you’re lucky you’re cute all at once.

He pressed his lips together, trying not to smile too much. “That was a look. We’re making progress. Do it again, I’ll take it as forgiveness.”

You rolled your eyes, but this time… the corner of your lips twitched.

And for Ni-ki, that was enough to keep chasing after you—keys in hand, and apology ready in full.

The drive was quiet.

Not the comforting kind. The I’m-ignoring-you-but-you-know-I’m-still-annoyed-so-don’t-push-it kind.

Ni-ki kept one hand on the steering wheel, the other fiddling with the aircon vents. He glanced at you every now and then, like he was waiting for a sign you’d say something. You didn’t.

He cleared his throat. “Okay, so I Googled ‘how to make your girlfriend forgive you’ last night.”

You didn’t respond.

He continued anyway. “Top suggestion: flowers. But I figured you’d throw them back at me. So… I skipped to step four: ‘listen and don’t talk over her.’ Which, by the way, I’m really bad at, but I’m working on it.”

Still silence.

He tapped the wheel twice. “This silence is so loud. I feel like I’m in an indie film and the credits are about to roll.”

You finally sighed. Just a little. He jumped on it.

“That was a sigh. A real, living sigh. You’re coming back to life—I knew it.”