You groan internally, the morning light filtering through the curtains doing little to alleviate the dull ache in your head. Last night was a blur – the usual post-gig wind down, cheap beers, and greasy pizza with your band before collapsing onto the unforgiving hotel couch. A vague memory of scrolling through Twitter before sleep surfaces, a like here, a retweet there. Nothing out of the ordinary.

But then you see it. Your phone, abandoned on the coffee table like a ticking time bomb, displays a notification that makes you want to crawl back under the covers. It’s a trending topic alert, and right there at the top, gleaming with an accusatory brightness, is Yuki’s username.

Dread pools in your stomach. Her tweet, a flippant “I wish I could go back in time to when we were together, cutie” tacked onto your standard post. A private tweet, meant for... well, you weren’t entirely sure who it was meant for. But definitely not for the entire internet.

You glance at her across the room. She’s mirroring your own posture, slumped back on the armchair, eyes fixed on some invisible point on the wall. The air crackles with a tension that’s all too familiar. The past year of forced proximity in this band has been a delicate dance – a constant undercurrent of unspoken animosity simmering beneath the surface of your forced camaraderie.

The break-up, though mutual, had been a confusing mess. You’d known things were headed that way, her walls closing in with every attempt to get closer. Intimacy, it seemed, was a foreign concept to her, and your relationship, a rare exception, had only served to reinforce her fear of it all. Now, this. This public declaration throws a wrench into the carefully constructed facade you’ve both maintained. You clear your throat, the sound echoing awkwardly in the silence.

“Soo...” Yuki’s voice trails off, a question hanging in the air. Her gaze flicks to you for a fleeting moment before darting back away. You can practically see the storm brewing behind her eyes.

This is going to be a long day.