The tour bus rumbled along the cracked highway. Rain streaked across the windows in crooked lines, turning the neon lights outside into blurred smears of color : gold, blue, and red melting into each other like watercolor.
Luka sat in the very back, curled into the corner booth seat. The shadows softened his features: blue eyes that always gave him away, blond hair falling messily into his face, and a scatter of freckles dusted across his nose,barely visible unless you were close enough to notice. On stage, cameras never caught them, but here in the dim bus light, they showed more than he liked.
He'd been part of the Band Star Alignment for four and a half years now...five boys shoved together by chance and ambition. They'd survived tiny stages, voice cracks, endless rehearsals, cramped hotel rooms, and the madness that followed their first big hit. Somewhere along the way, Luka had become the one everyone looked at first: the voice, the attitude, the main vocalist... the rapper and lead singer. He'd been sixteen, wide-eyed and hungry for anything that felt like freedom. Now the world knew his name in a way that didn't feel like freedom at all.
He wasn't asleep, though he had his headphones in and his hood half-up. He just needed space to breathe space that came hard these days.
The noise up front made that nearly impossible.
Milo, the band's guitarist, was half-lying across two seats, shoes still on, talking animatedly with his hands like he couldn't exist without movement. His dark, wavy hair bounced with every laugh, and the warm tone of his light tan skin glowed under the cheap bus lights. His Spanish accent wrapped around every sentence, sharp and musical. Milo was a sunbeam in human form. Energetic, bubbly, always too alive for the hour.
Beside him sat Kai, bassist and professional chaos magnet. Luka didn't even need to see him; Kai's laugh was unmistakable. Loud and unfiltered, the kind that filled the space until nothing else fit. He ran a hand through his short, light brown curls, green eyes sparkling with mischief even in the dark. Kai laughed like someone who had never learned to doubt himself. Luka envied that more than anything.
On the opposite side of the aisle, legs stretched out, arms folded behind his head, was Ace, their background vocalist. Black hair with dyed red streaks fell over his forehead, brushing dangerously close to his eyes. His gaze was dark and unreadable, the kind of eyes that seemed to watch everything without reacting. He didn't talk much,never needed to. But if someone suggested drinks, he was already grabbing his jacket.
The three of them made Star Alignment feel like something real, something alive. But sometimes Luka felt like he was just orbiting around them.
He watched their reflections in the window, the way the city lights carved golden lines across their faces, highlighting how easily they fit together. They were loud and warm and whole.
Meanwhile, Luka felt like a crack in the glass.
He shifted, the cold from the window seeping into his cheek. The bus smelled faintly of energy drinks, leftover stage fog, and Milo's perfume that he applied way too enthusiastically. Luka's hoodie still carried the scent of the venue a mix of sweat and smoke.
Tomorrow was another show. Another city. Another night where Luka had to be the version of himself everyone expected. The confident rapper, the face of the band, the one who never faltered.
But tonight, he was just tired.
Tired in a way sleep didn't fix.
The bus hit a bump, and Milo twisted around the seat with a grin.
"You alive back there, Luka?" he called out, accent curling around the words. "You look like you're gonna pass out."
Luka forced a quick smile. "Just tired from the show."
Tired.
Tired was always Safe. Always easy, no one ever questioned tired.
Milo nodded like that explained everything and dove right back into whatever chaotic story Kai was telling, the two of them cackling like teenagers. Ace didn't laugh, but the corner of his mouth twitched.
Luka watched them again, the way they moved, the way they talked, how effortlessly they existed around each other. Without thinking. Without rehearsing every version of themselves before speaking.
People always said fame made everything bigger.
And they were right.
But what Luka felt most was the quiet afterward.
The silence when the cheering stopped.
The tiny, empty space inside himself he couldn't name.
He pulled his hood lower, turned up the faint hum of music in his headphones, and let his eyes drift to the rain swallowing the road ahead.
Somewhere between the soft beat in his ears and the rhythm of the highway under the wheels, a thought pressed at his chest, steady and persistent:
Something changed inside of him ... but what ... and why
He pressed his thumb gently against the inside of his wrist, feeling the faint thrum of his pulse. "I just want to feel okay again," he whispered in his mind, a thought too fragile to say out loud. Not strong enough for the world, but too loud to ignore.
When had everything started feeling heavy?
When had waking up begun to feel like climbing out of a fog?
When had the stage become the only place where his mind went quiet?
He tried to trace it back,back to rehearsals, back to long drives, back to endless interviews where every answer had to be perfect. But the truth slipped through his fingers. Maybe it wasn't one moment. Maybe it was all of them. A slow drip of exhaustion until suddenly he was drowning in it.
He rubbed a hand over his face, feeling the weight behind his eyes. "Why do I feel like this?" The thought wasn't desperate...just tired, worn around the edges. Like he'd been carrying a version of himself that was too heavy to hold.
The rhythm of the bus rocked him gently, and his breathing softened. The rain became a steady whisper. The world blurred.
And as his eyes finally slipped shut, the last thought that crossed his mind wasn't a question,it was a hope.
Maybe tomorrow would hurt a little less or maybe he'd feel a little lighter.
Maybe tomorrow… he'd feel like himself again.
Sleep pulled him under before he found an answer.
He stood on a stage, but it wasn't one he recognized. The crowd was gone. Only the empty hall stared back at him, ghostly and still. A single spotlight shone down, blindingly white, cutting the darkness in half. Luka's chest tightened. He couldn't move neither could he speak only the faint sound of drums filled the air.
Then, through the light, a figure emerged.
Cody.
The bands drummer.
He wasn't smiling, wasn't even looking at Luka at first. He was sitting behind his drum set, sleeves rolled up, knuckles pale as he played. Every hit of the drum echoed like a heartbeat.
Steady and certain, impossible to ignore.
When Cody finally looked up, Luka froze. Those gray eyes ,so cold and unreadable. Pinned him in place. His lips moved, forming words Luka couldn't hear. But the sound of his voice was rough and seem to vibrate somewhere deep in Luka's chest.
Luka tried to step closer, to ask what he was saying, but his shoes somehow stuck to the stage floor. Cody stood, expression unreadable as he walked toward him. For a moment, their shadows overlapped under the blinding light and then Cody's hand brushed his shoulder. Just a touch. Just enough to make Luka's breath hitch...
He jolted awake.
The van had stopped. Rain hammered the windshield. Luka's heart was still racing, the sound of those drums still echoing in his head. Across from him, Cody sat with one arm propped against the window, earbuds in, staring out like he couldn't care less about the world. His dark short hair unusually messy.
Luka swallowed hard and tried not to look.
What the hell was that?
Out of all people... Cody?
The same guy who barely spoke unless he was snapping at someone? The one who never smiled for photos, who rolled his eyes every time Luka joked around? Why was he the one showing up in Luka's dreams like some kind of movie scene?
Luka rubbed his face, cheeks hot despite the cold morning.
"Get it together," he muttered under his breath.
Cody turned his head slightly, raising an eyebrow.
"You say something?"
Luka blinked, caught.
"Nah..."
Cody shrugged and went back to staring at the rain. Luka exhaled, relief and embarrassment twisting together in his stomach.
The van started moving again, and as they neared the new venue, Luka forced himself to focus on the noise, the lights, the adrenaline of another city waiting for them.
But somewhere in the back of his mind, behind all the music and motion, he could still hear it... that rhythm, that heartbeat of the drums and the memory of gray eyes that wouldn't let him go.
As the tour bus turned the corner, fans lined the streets outside the venue holding signs, screaming names, flashing phones that painted the night with bursts of white light. Luka blinked against the chaos, heart thrumming somewhere between excitement and dread. It should've been the best part of the night! The energy before the stage, but after that dream, everything felt a little too loud.
"Showtime, boys!" a female voice shouted from the front as the bus rolled to a stop.
Lyra there Manager looked at them with an serious expression "Let's expect nothing then the best from ourselves tonight alright? This is our biggest show yet!" She said bevor giving them an exited smile.
Doors slid open. The air outside was electric a mix of perfume, rain, and lights. Luka pulled his hoodie up, forcing a grin as they stepped out one by one, waving at the crowd of waiting fans. Cody didn't even look up, just shoved his drumsticks into his pocket and kept walking, face hidden under his cap.
Luka tried not to stare.
Inside, the venue was a maze of cables, lights, and crew rushing around with clipboards and headsets. The walls trembled faintly from bass tests, the scent of smoke machines already thick in the air. Luka ran a hand through his hair, trying to focus.
He found his corner in the dressing room, a mirror surrounded by bulbs, his mic on the table, bottles of water lined up in neat rows. He stared at his reflection, at the faint shadows under his eyes, the restless flicker in his pupils.
"Hey," a warm voice came from behind.
Luka turned to see Milo leaning against the doorframe, guitar pick spinning between his fingers. His dark curls framed his tanned face, and his usual easy grin softened a little when he saw Luka's expression.
"You okay, hermano? You look like you just woke up with a huge hangover."
Luka let out a shaky laugh. "Just… nerves, I guess."
Milo stepped closer, setting the pick behind his ear. "You've done this a hundred times. They love you out there, man. You're gonna kill it like always."
Luka smiled weakly. "Yeah. I know."
But Milo didn't buy it. He crossed his arms, his dark eyes narrowing just enough to make Luka feel seen. "You sure it's just nerves?"
Luka looked away, pretending to adjust his mic strap. "Yeah. Promise."
Milo sighed, the hint of his Mexican accent wrapping around the word like warmth. "You worry too much, Luka. When you're up there, it's just you and the music. That's the part that's real, sabes?"
Something about that stuck. Luka nodded, forcing a real smile this time. "Yeah. Thanks, man."
Milo patted his shoulder before heading toward the stage entrance, calling over his shoulder, "Don't forget to breathe before the lights hit, okay? You always forget to breathe."
As he disappeared into the noise, Luka glanced toward the far end of the room, Cody was sitting alone on a crate, drumsticks tapping out a quiet, steady rhythm against his thigh. His gray eyes flicked up for half a second, meeting Luka's before darting away again.
Luka's pulse stumbled. He swallowed hard and looked back at the mirror.
The show was about to start and he couldn't decide what scared him more: the thousands of people waiting outside… or the way one person in this room could make him forget how to breathe at all.