𝐜𝐫𝐲𝐢𝐧' 𝐨𝐮𝐭 𝐥𝐨𝐮𝐝 ─────⋆⋅★𝘥𝘳𝘦𝘸 𝘴𝘵𝘢𝘳𝘬𝘦𝘺

𝟑𝟓. 𝐮𝐧𝐫𝐚𝐯𝐞𝐥𝐞𝐝

The early morning light was just beginning to chase away the remnants of night when Drew drove Suki down to the beach. LA's coast lay before them, calm and quiet, blanketed in the soft hues of dawn. The world felt peaceful here, like a rare, unguarded moment that they could wrap themselves in. There were no paparazzi, no flashing cameras, just the two of them, standing at the edge of the water as if the rest of the world had fallen away.

Suki exhaled, watching Drew as he kicked off his shoes and rolled up his jeans, motioning for her to do the same. She tugged off her sandals, feeling the damp chill of the sand beneath her feet. They walked in silence for a while, letting the ocean breeze tangle through their hair, her fingers brushing against his as they walked through the shallow surf. She felt the weight of words pressing against her, all the things she'd been keeping to herself, all the fears she'd buried.

Finally, she glanced at him, her voice soft, almost breaking through the steady hush of the waves. "I feel like I'm always fighting my way through this life... fighting for my music, fighting against my contract, fighting to keep my sanity." She let out a shaky laugh, staring out into the endless blue, her voice vulnerable. "Sometimes, I wonder if my life is just... too much. Too messy. Too loud. Too everything."

Drew didn't respond immediately. He just walked alongside her, quiet and patient, his eyes watching her closely, taking in every word, every expression that flickered across her face. They kept walking as she spoke, her voice unraveling piece by piece, until her words felt as raw as the ocean air.

"My lawyers think they can help me, but I'm scared, Drew. This contract—it feels like it's got a stranglehold on me. And the label... They want a version of me that isn't real. They want the performance, not the person. I can't keep pretending." Her voice cracked, the strain of holding herself together slipping through. "I'm terrified that the person I really am—the person you're seeing right now—is too much. Maybe even for you."

Drew turned to her then, his brow furrowing as he listened, his hand reaching out to hold hers. His touch was warm, grounding, and when she looked at him, there was no judgment in his eyes. Only understanding.

"You are not too much for me, Suki," he said gently. His thumb brushed across her knuckles, his eyes steady on hers, unwavering. "I want all of your 'too much' to my 'not enough.' Every single part of you. The good, the bad, the brilliant, and the messy. I don't want the version of you that's pretending."

Suki looked down, her gaze fixed on the way his hand fit around hers, how solid and steady he felt against the chaos of her world. Drew moved closer, letting go of her hand to gently tilt her chin up, bringing his forehead to hers. They stood like that for a moment, with the sea curling around their ankles, their breaths mingling, her face inches from his.

"Meeting my family doesn't mean you have to change or hide who you are," he murmured, his fingers tenderly brushing along her jaw. "They're going to love you, Suki. They'll see what I see. Someone real, and fierce, and passionate."

A tear slipped down her cheek, catching the faint glimmer of morning light as it traced its way across her skin. Drew wiped it away with his thumb, cradling her face as though she were something precious, something fragile yet untouchable.

"I don't know how to be someone's... family." Her voice was barely above a whisper. "I don't know what it's like to have one. What if I'm not what they expect?"

Drew's hand slid from her face to the small of her back, pulling her closer, her head resting against his shoulder. "Then that's their problem," he whispered against her hair, his voice steady and reassuring. "You've built something beautiful for yourself, Suki. You've survived, you've created, and you've given so much of yourself to the world. My family... they're lucky if they get to know you."