62 and 63-Tomika and freddy-school of rock

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by Ameliashepherdwife

by Ameliashepherdwife

Tomika sat on the edge of the rooftop, her guitar resting against her knees. The city lights twinkled below, a symphony of chaos and melody. She'd always found solace in music—the notes weaving stories of love, loss, and longing.

Freddy appeared beside her, his eyes searching hers. "Tomika, we need to talk."

She sighed. "Can't it wait? I'm trying to write a song."

He sat down, their shoulders brushing. "It's about the song, Tomika. About us."

Her heart skipped a beat. "Us?"

Freddy's fingers traced the strings of her guitar. "Remember when we first met? You were this fierce girl with a voice that could shake the walls."

"And you," Tomika said, "were the drummer who never missed a beat."

They'd clashed—musical battles, witty banter, and secret glances. But beneath it all, something simmered—a harmony waiting to be discovered.

Freddy took a deep breath. "I've been writing lyrics. About you."

Tomika's pulse quickened. "Lyrics?"

"Yeah." He cleared his throat. "About how your voice is like sunlight breaking through storm clouds. About how your laughter is my favorite melody."

She blinked back tears. "Freddy..."

"I've been an idiot," he confessed. "I pushed you away, thinking it was easier. But it wasn't. It hurt."

Tomika's fingers found his. "Why now?"

"Because," Freddy said, "I can't keep pretending. Not when every note I play, every rhythm I feel—it's all you."

The wind carried their words, wrapping them in a cocoon of vulnerability. Tomika leaned closer, her lips brushing his cheek.

"Freddy," she whispered, "I've been writing too."

His eyes widened. "You have?"

She nodded. "About how your drumsticks dance across the cymbals. About how your heartbeat syncs with mine when we play."

And then, without thinking, she kissed him—a soft, tentative press of lips. Freddy froze, then responded, his mouth molding against hers. The rooftop faded, the city disappeared. There was only the taste of promise, the rhythm of their hearts.

When they pulled apart, Freddy's eyes were wide. "Tomika, I—"

She silenced him with another kiss. "Shut up and play your drums, Freddy. Let the music speak."

And so, under the moonlight, they played—a duet of love, forgiveness, and second chances. Their notes soared, entwining like vines, creating a melody that echoed through the night.

Tomika and Freddy—their love story was no longer hidden in lyrics. It was alive, pulsing, and harmonious.