The steady thump of the final drumbeat echoed in the air like a heartbeat slowly coming to rest. Reese's voice rang out loud and clear, "Alright, that's it for today. Pack it up."

Finally.

Austin leaned back on his stool, muscles slack with that distinct after-practice fatigue. His arms buzzed with that familiar, pleasant ache that always followed a good session. His grip on the drumsticks loosened slightly, letting them roll idly against his calloused fingers. He reached for his phone, screen lighting up as he checked the time.

9:00 PM. Like always.

He didn't know why he even checked anymore—practice never ran late unless Reese was on one of her "we can do better" power trips.

He shoved the phone back into his pocket with the same disinterest he did with most things and reached for his black sports water bottle at his feet. Cold water coursed down his throat, easing the dryness left behind by too much air and effort. Drumming wasn't cardio, but it sure felt like it sometimes.

His eyes lifted as the faint rustle of bags and cases filled the room. Everyone was packing up, chatting among themselves in low, tired voices. Noah left first, followed by Simon, and Reese lingered by the door to finish whatever point she was trying to make before walking off, too. Usually, Austin would be gone by now. No hesitation, no small talk, no reason to hang around when the work was done. But tonight, he was deliberately moving slower.

The reason his feet weren't already halfway down the street was, well... you.

He watched you shove the last of your gear into your bag and zip it closed with a sharp tug. Yeah, you were rushing. Trying to leave before anyone could talk to you. He knew that look because he had done it himself more times than he could count. You were doing it now, and for some reason, it irritated him. You'd been here for weeks now, but Austin couldn't recall a single proper conversation with you. It wasn't like he talked much anyway, but even he knew this kind of distance wasn't good for a band.

Austin shifted his gaze away, his jaw flexing slightly. He didn't know why it sat wrong with him tonight. You were polite, you didn't overstep, and most importantly, you didn't bother him. That was something he could respect. But maybe that was the problem.

You didn't feel in the band. You felt like someone who was just... there.

"Hey," Austin's steady voice called out to you just as you were reaching for the door handle. "Can you come here for a sec?" His tone was as unbothered as ever, his gaze piercing but distant. To anyone else, it would've sounded like a throwaway request, like he'd barely put any thought into it. But for him to ask for anything at all? That wasn't normal.

Austin didn't move from his spot when you got close enough, his legs still wide apart, fingers still tapping the side of his drum. "I need to tune my drums," he said flatly, tilting his head toward his drum kit like it was the most obvious thing in the world.