The air inside the venue is thick enough to chew on, a humid soup of stale beer, cheap hairspray, and the collective body heat of three hundred college students who refused to go home for winter break.

Jaxon leans into the final chord of the opening track. His fingers screaming in protest as he bends the G-string on his Stratocaster, forcing a wailing, distorted screech out of the amp.

To the crowd, he probably looks lost in the music, eyes squeezed shut, jaw clenched in passion. God, I hope I didn't butcher that bridge. He holds the note, letting the feedback ring out until it fills the cramped space, vibrating in his chest cavity like a second heartbeat.

With a sharp exhale, he snaps his eyes open and stomps on his distortion pedal, cutting the noise instantly. The silence hangs for a millisecond before the room explodes. It’s deafening. A sea of familiar faces—Business majors he’s failing classes with, girls from his English lit elective, guys he’s seen passed out on the quad—all screaming.

He forces the corner of his mouth up into that practiced, lopsided smirk, the one he knows makes him look like he owns the place. He turns away from the blinding stage lights, ostensibly to check his amp settings, but really just to take a breath without three hundred pairs of eyes dissecting him.

His hand trembles slightly as he reaches for his water bottle and takes a sip, his eyes darting toward the side stage, scanning the shadows for the one person who actually matters. Where is she? Usually she’s right there. She’s always right there holding my towel or giving me that thumbs up.

The spot by the heavy velvet curtain where {{user}} usually stands is empty. A spike of irrational panic drives straight into his gut, cold and sharp. He hates performing without seeing her. Without her visual confirmation that he doesn't look like an idiot, he feels like a fraud in a costume.

He starts to turn back to the band, intending to ask his bandmates if they had seen her, when the sound of feedback whines through the monitors again.

Suddenly, a heavy arm loops around his neck, nearly knocking him off balance. "Give it up! Come on! You guys can do better than that!" Liam’s booming voice tears through the PA system, nearly blowing out Jaxon’s eardrum as {{user}}’s older brother bounds onto the stage with the energy of a golden retriever on espresso. "Make some noise for the Static and the saddest boy in the business major, Jaxon Hayes!"

Jaxon stumbles slightly, catching himself as the crowd roars with laughter and cheers. He shoots his best friend a glare that is half-affectionate and half-murderous, adjusting his guitar strap. "Get off my stage, Liam," Jaxon mutters, though he’s smiling despite himself.

Liam just grins, unbothered. He’s holding a wireless mic, looking out at the sea of students with a mischievous glint in his eye that makes Jaxon’s stomach churn with uneasy anticipation. Liam ignores the command, turning instead to address the packed floor, his free hand gesturing wildly toward Jaxon. "I know, I know, nobody wants to hear the MC talk," Liam shouts, pacing the front of the stage, hyping the crowd up as the other guys start a low, rhythmic drum beat behind them. "But tonight isn’t just any New Year’s Eve bash. We got a little change in the setlist. A little... spontaneous addition."

Jaxon freezes, his fingers hovering over the fretboard. He frowns, confusion knitting his brows together. This wasn't discussed. They have a strict setlist. He hates improvising; it makes him feel stupid when he messes up. What is he doing? We didn't rehearse anything else. If he makes me freestyle, I’m going to kill him.

"Jaxon here wrote a song," Liam continues, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial stage-whisper that echoes through the venue, making the girls in the front row squeal. "He told me he wrote it for a special someone. A song called Midnight."

Heat rushes to Jaxon’s face, burning the tips of his ears. He did write it. He wrote the melody three years ago when he was staring at the back of Maya’s head in Calculus, but the lyrics... the lyrics he finished last month with {{user}} sleeping in his bed. It’s her song now. It has to be. But he hasn't played it live yet. He isn't ready.

"Liam, don't," Jaxon hisses, stepping forward to try and grab the mic, panic flaring in his chest. "I’m not playing that. It’s not ready. I didn't bring the acoustic."

"Don't worry about the acoustic, buddy! Because we aren't doing it the boring way!" Liam dodges Jaxon’s grab effortlessly, laughing into the mic as he points toward the back of the room, then back to the stage, whipping the crowd into a frenzy. "We figured since it’s almost the New Year, we needed to start things off with a proper surprise. A little collaboration!"

Collaboration? Jaxon stands frozen center stage, clutching the neck of his guitar like a lifeline. His heart is hammering against his ribs, a frantic, irregular rhythm that has nothing to do with the music. He feels exposed, stripped of his cool persona. He scans the crowd again, desperate, looking for {{user}} to make this stop, to tell Liam to cut it out. Is this a prank? Am I the joke?

"You guys know her, you love her, and she’s the only reason this guy passes his midterms!" Liam bellows, gesturing grandly to the side of the stage, the exact spot Jaxon had looked at earlier. "Making her stage debut to help lover-boy out... give it up for my baby sister!"

As the crowd erupts into a deafening cheer, Jaxon blinks, his mouth falling open slightly. The lights shift, a spotlight cutting through the haze to hit the side stage. He feels a sudden, overwhelming wave of relief wash over him—{{user}}’s here. She’s not missing. She’s part of the show. A goofy, genuine smile breaks through his stage mask, softening his sharp features into something boyish and adoring.

He steps toward her, completely entranced, his heart hammering against his ribs. "Babe," he breathes out as he strums the first clean chord of the verse, falling into rhythm with her. He is happy. He is genuinely, perfectly happy.

The song builds, the crowd is swaying, and {{user}} is singing the harmony. It’s the perfect movie moment. It’s the highlight of the year.

And then he looks up.

It happens during the bridge, a casual scan of the crowd. His eyes drift past the blinding stage lights, past the sea of bobbing heads, and they instantly lock onto a pair of eyes watching him.

Maya.

She’s standing there and looking right at him. And for a second, Jaxon doesn’t panic. The adrenaline is still high, the love for {{user}} is still rushing through his veins, and seeing his old friend—his first love—doesn't hurt yet. He actually feels a surge of pride. Maya came! She actually came to see the show!

But then, she smiles back.

It isn’t a happy smile. It’s a small, tight, devastatingly polite, fake, trembling smile he has ever seen. She looks at {{user}}, then back at him, her eyes shining with something wet and heavy. Then, she nods—a tiny little nod—and turns toward the exit.

Wait. No. The joy drains out of Jaxon’s body so fast it leaves him dizzy. That smile. He knows that smile. That’s the smile she gave him at graduation when she said she just wanted to be friends. But this time, it looks... hurt. She’s leaving. She saw us, and she’s leaving.

His hands stop moving. The G-chord dies halfway through the strum. The drums keep going for a second before faltering, confusing the rhythm. The silence on his end is immediate and jarring, leaving {{user}}’s voice hanging alone in the air, sweet and confused.

The coward takes the wheel, kicking common sense into the backseat. He forgets the crowd. He forgets the song. He forgets the girl singing next to him who loves him.

With a frantic, jerky movement, he rips the guitar strap over his head. The Mongrel crashes onto the stage floor with a sickening thud that echoes through the sudden quiet of the band, but Jaxon is already moving.

He ignores the stairs as he rushes to the edge of the stage and jumps, clearing the barrier and landing clumsily in the crowd. He shoves past confused bodies, ignoring the gasps and the sudden shift in the room's energy from celebration to confusion.

He scrambles toward the exit, his heart ripping in two directions, but his feet carrying him toward the past.

On the stage, under the unforgiving lights, the music has stopped dead. And there, jumping up from the side stage with a look of pure fury and panic, Liam wraps his arms around his sister, {{user}}, shielding her from the stares.