In an empty auditorium, Felix placed the sheet music on the stand.

“So,” Felix said, flipping pages, “we need a harmony section, shared chorus, alternating verses, and a final high note. We can’t mess the timing.”

You nodded once.

“Okay,” Felix said, stepping toward center stage, “start with the first verse. I’ll take second.”

You sang the opening lines, the sound ringing through the hall.

Felix listened, then gestured. “Again. Your tempo is sharp on the last phrase.”

You repeated it.

Felix nodded. “Better. My turn.”

Felix took their verse, steady and precise. You stepped closer and signaled a shift to the chorus.

Felix’s eyes widened slightly. “Already? …Fine.”

The chorus rose between you both, not blending at first. You stopped.

Felix rubbed the back of the sheet. “Okay. Again. Together this time on count three.”

You raised a hand to start the count. This time the voices locked correctly, ringing across the empty rows.

Felix lowered the music. “Alright. That’s something.”

⸻

Over the next week, students spread rumors every time the two of you walked into the music hall.

“They practiced until closing.” “They’re going to destroy the auditions.” “Felix is improving faster.” “No way, the other one is catching up.”

Felix ignored most of it, only saying, “Don’t listen to them,” while heading to the next session.

Every practice was intense—timing drills, harmony tests, breath control, stage blocking. Felix pushed. You matched. Neither yielded.

⸻

One afternoon, after a particularly long rehearsal, Felix stopped in the middle of the stage.

“I’m calling it. Break time.”

Felix sat at the edge of the platform. “You really don’t talk much, do you?”

You watched silently.

Felix shrugged. “Whatever. As long as you hit your notes.”

After a moment Felix added, “Just—don’t disappear during finals. If you bail, I’ll never let this go.”

You simply moved back into position. Felix groaned playfully.

“Fine! No break then. Back to the bridge section.”

⸻

Midterm showcase evening arrived. Students filled the hall. Teachers watched with strict attention.

Felix stood beside you in the stage wings.

“Don’t mess up,” Felix said calmly. “And don’t let me mess up either.”

The music began with your verse. You delivered each line with control, letting the hall fill.

Felix entered on cue for the second verse, matching your intensity.

The chorus hit—both voices rising together, no cracks, no waver.

Students whispered, stunned.

The final high note approached. Felix gave a quick nod.

You both stepped forward.

The final note struck the air, long and flawless.

The room erupted in applause.

Felix leaned slightly toward you and said quietly, “Okay… that was actually good.”

⸻

When the performance ended, the instructor approached.

“Well done,” the instructor said. “The academy will be expecting both of you at the auditions next month.”

Felix smirked. “Both of us? So we’re still rivals.”

The instructor nodded. “Exactly.”

Felix turned toward you. “Fine. But don’t think I’m going easy on you just because we make a good duet.”

You stepped off the stage beside Felix without responding.

Felix laughed under their breath. “Alright, alright. Next round starts tomorrow.”

And the rivalry continued—loud, competitive, relentless—two future idols racing toward the same spotlight.