The sun always hits Axel first.
I don't know why.
Maybe it's the way he sits — slightly forward, guitar balanced against his knee like it belongs there more than his own hands. Or maybe the universe just knows he's the one holding everything together.
The light turns his gray hair almost silver.
Laura says it makes him look dramatic.
He says nothing.
He never says much.
I like that about him.
The park is quiet this afternoon. Not empty — just the kind of quiet that hums. Birds settling. Wind combing through the trees. Someone laughing far away near the fountain. It's the kind of quiet that makes you feel like you're inside a song before it begins.
Axel strums something soft. Not a full melody. Just fragments. Testing the air.
Laura sits straight beside him, hands folded neatly in her lap. Even outside, even on grass, she looks composed. Her purple hair falls perfectly down her shoulder like she planned it that way.
She didn't.
She never plans that part.
But it still happens.
"That one," she says calmly, nodding toward the chord progression. "Play it again."
Axel does.
Of course he does.
I'm sitting on his other side, knees pulled close, leaning just slightly into his shoulder. Not because I need to.
Just because I can.
His shirt smells like clean laundry and cedarwood.
It feels safe here.
Like this.
Like we've always been sitting here.
Like nothing bad could reach us if the three of us stay close enough.
Laura tilts her head, listening carefully. She's already thinking about structure. About transitions. About how to turn this small thing into something bigger.
I'm thinking about how the sunlight looks through Axel's hair.
And whether the breeze would ruin the audio if I filmed this.
And whether I should've brought snacks.
I probably should've brought snacks.
Axel glances down at me. "You're quiet."
"I'm observing," I say.
Laura smiles faintly. "She's always observing."
It's true.
I like watching them.
Laura, with her calm precision.
Axel, with his steady hands.
They look like they were born knowing what to do.
I wasn't.
I just kind of… ended up here.
Axel shifts the chord again, and something in it feels unfinished.
Like it's waiting.
Laura hums softly, testing a harmony.
It fits.
Of course it fits.
I hum too.
Without thinking.
Just a tiny thread of sound, barely there.
Axel pauses.
Laura turns her head slightly.
I freeze.
"What?" I ask quickly.
"Nothing," Axel says.
But he doesn't start playing again right away.
Laura studies me with that quiet, unreadable look she has when she's noticing something but choosing not to say it.
I laugh and wave it off. "It was just random."
Axel resumes playing.
The moment passes.
The sun dips lower.
And I rest my head against his shoulder fully this time.
Safe.
Warm.
Loved.
Sometimes I think about how lucky I am.
To sit between them.
To belong here.
To help.
I don't think I'm the important part.
But that's okay.
Every harmony needs something soft in the background.
The light turns gold.
And for a while, we just sit there —
like nothing is missing.