Brandon's POV
"It's a wrap, guys!"
Oliver's voice echoed across the rehearsal studio the moment his drumstick struck the final beat. The sound bounced briefly off the high walls before fading into the familiar hum of amps and cables.
Pete let out a low whistle, lifting his bass slightly as he looked at me. "That was sick, man," he said, shaking his head in genuine admiration. "Seriously… how did you come up with those lyrics?"
Jason leaned back against the keyboard stand, nodding enthusiastically. "Yeah, I'm with Pete on this one," he added. "I swear I haven't been able to get that song out of my head since you first played it for us."
I managed a quick nod, already moving. "Thanks, guys," I muttered. My hands were packing up my guitar, movements quicker than usual—too quick, probably. I slid the instrument into its case and zipped it shut with practiced efficiency, tossing my notebook and spare picks into my backpack.
All I wanted was to leave. Now.
