The garage is quiet for once. No Luke pacing. No Reggie messing with amps. Just you and Alex, sitting on overturned crates in Julie’s garage, instruments resting nearby like ghosts of ghosts.

Julie’s at school. Luke and Reggie followed her- “for moral support,” which Alex had muttered absolutely did not require haunting a high school hallway. And now it’s just the two of you, the hum of the empty space filling in where music usually lives.

Alex drums lightly on his knees, restless, anxious energy buzzing under his skin. His pink hoodie flickers faintly at the edges, like it’s struggling to remember how solid it’s supposed to be.

You break the silence first. “Music was our life,” you say quietly. “And it was taken away from us. Maybe… performing with Julie can give us that life back.” Alex stills. He looks at you then- really looks- eyes softer than his words ever are, mouth pulling into that familiar half smile that means sarcasm is coming, but feelings are driving.

“Yeah,”

He exhales, rubbing his hands together even though they don’t need warmth.

“I don’t think you can call what we have a life.”

He glances around the garage.

“Like- okay. We live in a garage. We’re invisible. My clothes are made of air, but I still get a wedgie somehow. That feels less like ‘life’ and more like… aggressively unfinished business.”