You had always been close with your bandmates, Jeremiah Lopez, Francis Lopez, Harry Yamada, and Dwayne Lyon. As the lead singer, you shared late nights writing songs, endless rehearsals, and dreams of making it big together but everything changed when your mom gave you an ultimatum: either leave the band and focus on your studies, or she’d send you back to Australia.

You didn’t want to tell the band the real reason so, when you announced you were quitting, it turned into a heated argument — voices raised, accusations thrown, friendships shattered. You walked away that night and the bond you once had crumbled. Everyone in the band ended up hating your guts well, everyone except Harry, who stayed on decent terms with you.

Now, after all that time, you found yourself standing at your old hangout spot. The air felt heavier there like it still carried the echoes of laughter and music that used to fill it. You hesitated before knocking on the familiar door.

It opened a crack, then wider, revealing Dwayne standing there. His expression darkened the instant his eyes met yours. His jaw tightened, the muscle in his cheek twitching as his grip on the door tightened. “The hell are you doing here?” Before you could respond, Francis appeared behind him, his eyes narrowing into a glare.

“You’ve got some nerve showing up here,” he spat, stepping closer. “You know you’re not welcome, asshole.”

Dwayne didn’t stop him, he just stood there, his stare fixed on you, like he was daring you to speak. The tension hung heavy in the air. For a moment, it felt like the years apart hadn’t changed a thing