Yuna's POV
The others were still arguing about lyrics, melody, and whether or not this even counted as a proper picnic anymore.
Leo had abandoned his makeshift drumming to steal food from Ethan's plate, Noah and Milo were engaged in some weird debate about poetic metaphors, and Erika looked about three seconds away from grabbing them all by the collars and shaking some sense into them.
I, on the other hand, took the opportunity to slip away.
Not far—just a few steps away from the chaos, where I could actually hear my own thoughts for once. I sat down on the grass, stretching my legs out as I tilted my head back to watch the sky.
It was a warm, lazy Thursday, the kind that made you want to lie down and let the world move around you.
The breeze was soft, the clouds drifting aimlessly across the pale blue, and for a moment, I just let myself exist.
Then, before I could stop it, the thought crept in.
What if I just… tried?
Singing, I meant.
I wasn't stupid—I knew I could sing. Kai knew it. Everyone probably knew it. I just… never did. Never let myself be part of the music the way the rest of them were.
But what if?
I frowned at the thought, shaking my head.
No. No way. That wasn't me. I wasn't like them.
I let out a slow breath, pressing my palm flat against the grass. The thought didn't leave right away, though. It stayed, lingering at the edge of my mind like an echo of something I wasn't ready to listen to yet.
Behind me, someone yelled—probably Leo getting what he deserved for stealing food—and the moment passed.
I shook off the strange feeling, pulling my hoodie tighter around me, and turned back to the group.
Time to rejoin the chaos.
I spent the rest of the picnic perfecting the fine art of not thinking about things.
Every time the conversation even hinted at music, I expertly redirected it. Someone brought up a song? I suddenly remembered a funny video I saw last night. Kai started talking about vocal techniques? I conveniently got up to steal the last sandwich before Leo could.
When Noah started rambling about lyrics, I fake-complained about my tragic lack of dessert until Erika sighed and shoved a cookie at me.
It was a skill. A talent, even.
And by the time lunch ended, I had successfully avoided any and all serious discussion about the band's vocalist problem.
But that night? Yeah. That was a different story.
Lying in bed, staring at the ceiling, I replayed Kai's words over and over.
"We wouldn't be struggling this much if someone cough had a decent voice."
The way he said it, so casually, like it wasn't some huge thing. Like it was obvious.
I groaned and flipped onto my side, stuffing my face into my pillow. Stupid. It was stupid. I wasn't going to think about it.
Definitely not.
The next day, band practice was, in a word, painful.
The moment Milo strummed the opening chords of one of their older songs, the problem became glaringly obvious.
There was no singer.
Of course, the instrumental part was solid—Kai on guitar, Milo on bass, Ethan on keyboard, Leo on drums. The music itself was good. Great, even. But without vocals, it felt empty. Incomplete.
I sat against the wall, arms crossed, as I watched them try to push through it.
They played the full song, and when the final note faded into silence, nobody said anything.
Then—
"That sucked," Leo announced bluntly, tossing his drumsticks onto his lap.
Noah sighed, rubbing the bridge of his nose. "It didn't suck. It just…"
"Had a massive, gaping hole where the vocals should be?" Ethan supplied dryly.
"Yeah. That."
Milo frowned, absentmindedly adjusting the strap of his bass. "We need to figure this out. Fast."
Kai, who had been oddly quiet the whole time, leaned back against the amp and gave me a look.
That look.
The one that said, I know you're thinking about it. The one that made me want to throw something at his head.
I ignored him, obviously.
Instead, I focused very hard on my phone, scrolling through absolutely nothing of importance.
This was fine. Everything was fine.
Definitely not thinking about it.
"We're stuck." Erika groaned, rubbing her temples as she paced in front of us like a stressed-out teacher dealing with a room full of failing students.
"Seriously. It's been weeks. No vocalist. No progress. Nothing."
"Wow, thanks for the motivational speech," Ethan said, deadpan.
Leo spun a drumstick between his fingers. "We could always just become an instrumental band."
"You know that's not happening," Erika shot back, then turned to Noah.
"Do you have anything?"
Noah, our designated poet and songwriter, sighed. "I mean, I have lyrics, but they kind of require, you know… singing."
Everyone collectively looked at the floor like the answer to our problems might be written there.
I just sat there, arms crossed, doing my best impression of a completely uninvolved bystander.
"Yuna," Kai said casually.
I froze.
"You ever think about—"
"No," I said immediately.
Milo snorted. "Damn, didn't even let him finish."
Kai just grinned, way too entertained. "I was just gonna ask if you—"
"No."
"You don't even know what I was gonna—"
"Nope."
Erika pinched the bridge of her nose. "Can you two not do this today?"
I leaned back in my chair, staring at the ceiling like it held the secrets of the universe. Anything to avoid Kai's stupidly smug expression.
This was fine. Everything was fine.
That night, I made tea.
Nothing dramatic, nothing unusual. Just me, standing in the kitchen, waiting for the water to boil. The soft hum of the kettle filled the quiet, and before I even realized it—
I was humming, too.
A melody I had heard a hundred times before. One of our songs. It slipped out so naturally, like breathing.
Then I froze.
The realization hit me like a slap to the face. I liked this. It felt… natural. Easy.
I stood there for a moment, staring at the kettle, the tune still lingering in my mind.
Then I shook my head. Nope.
Grabbing my mug, I turned off the stove and stomped back to my room like I could physically outrun the thought.
I was not thinking about this.
Not tonight. Not ever.
Weekends were supposed to be peaceful. No school, no band practice, no one waiting for me to do something. Just me, the sky, and nothing else.
I sat on the stone ledge near the garden, arms draped over my knees, staring at the sky. The clouds were slow today, drifting like they had all the time in the world.
A light breeze rustled the bushes, barely making a sound. Aunt Rosa's garden wasn't much—some flowers, a few plants, and just enough grass to make it count—but it was enough.
And then, the peace ended.
The metal gate creaked open.
I didn't even need to look. "You're here again."
Kai's footsteps crunched against the stone path as he walked in, carrying a plastic bag of food with his guitar slung over his back.
"Good morning to you too, sunshine."
Before I could respond, the front door swung open. Aunt Rosa stepped outside, wiping her hands on a kitchen towel.
The second she saw him, she smiled. "Oh, Kai! Visiting again?"
Kai immediately took her hand and pressed it lightly to his forehead "Good morning, Aunt Rosa."
Aunt Rosa beamed, patting his arm. "Such a good boy," she said approvingly.
"Have you eaten?"
Kai held up the bag. "Brought food."
"Good, good. You need to eat well," Aunt Rosa said, nodding.
"Stay as long as you like. I'll bring some snacks later."
"Thank you, Aunt Rosa," Kai said, all polite and proper.
I squinted at him. "You do realize that acting like the perfect guest doesn't cancel out the fact that you keep showing up uninvited, right?"
Kai sat down next to me on the ledge, setting the plastic bag between us. "Relax. I brought food. That makes it a fair trade."
I poked the bag. "Is it poisoned?"
"Only if you deserve it."
I sighed, opening the bag. Sandwiches, some chips, and a bottle of iced tea. At least he had the decency to bring things I actually liked.
"You've been thinking about it," Kai says casually, stepping closer.
I glare at him, gripping the bottle of iced tea in my lap. "No, I haven't."
Kai just raises an eyebrow, the kind of look that says, Really? The way he looks at me—calm, knowing—makes my skin prickle. It's irritating. He doesn't even need to say anything for me to feel caught.
"You're so annoying," I mutter, taking a sip of my drink like that'll somehow make him disappear.
He smirks. "Told you."
I roll my eyes so hard it almost hurts. I focus on the small cracks in the stone pathway, pretending to be deeply invested in them.
"Whatever."
Kai, still grinning, simply plops down beside me like he's got all the time in the world. "You know, for someone who keeps saying 'whatever,' you sure have a lot of reactions."
I kick at a stray pebble near my foot. "I hate you."
"No, you don't," he says, way too easily.
For once, Kai doesn't start teasing me again. Instead, he leans back, staring at the sky. His tone shifts—less playful, more serious.
"You're avoiding music," he says, voice steady. "But it's not working, is it?"
My fingers tighten around the bottle. I don't answer.
"You still care," he continues.
I inhale sharply, my grip tightening. I wish I could say no. I wish I could laugh in his face and tell him he's being ridiculous. But I can't, because deep down, I know he's right.
Music keeps coming back to me. Even when I ignore it. Even when I try to push it away. It's always there—in the songs stuck in my head, in the way I tap my fingers to a rhythm without thinking, in the way my chest tightens when I hear a melody that reminds me of something I lost.
But saying that out loud feels too much like admitting defeat.
I let out a slow breath, staring at the ground. "It's not that simple."
Kai doesn't answer immediately. He lets the words settle between us, the weight of them heavier than I'd like.
"You don't have to pretend with me, you know." His voice is calm, but there's something firm underneath it, like he's daring me to argue.
I stayed silent.
Kai waits, patient as ever, watching me out of the corner of his eye.
I know he's right. I know I'm just running in circles. But it's easier to keep pretending, to act like I don't care.
Because if I admit that I care, then what?
To be continued.