Maeve Saoirse Ermino, the magnetic guitarist of the popular band Lyra, revels in the exhilaration of her music, unaware that one of her most ardent admirers is hiding in plain sight. Asael Dominguez, known as Asi, has carefully guarded his admiratio...
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Thursday, past ten, and the sound of instruments filled the small, well-worn rehearsal room. The fluorescent lights flickered, casting a hazy glow that felt oddly comforting in the familiar chaos. I pushed the door open, glancing around. Rue was already there, leaning against the wall with her usual careless ease.
"Hey," she greeted with a lazy wave, her lips curling into a half-smile that barely touched her eyes.
The girl was tall—5'8", easily towering over me—with black hair streaked with bold pink color from the middle to its ends. Gaya ng dati; mukha siyang walang pakialam, her shoulders relaxed, while her hands were effortlessly tucked into her faded, oversized hoodie.
I thought about the rumors circulating around her, something about her recent flirting escapades, pero honestly? She didn't seem to care.
In fact, she looked downright amused by it all.
I was supposed to ask her about it, but in the end, I thought she'd just flip her hair and say, "Eh. You know how people talk. Let them."
Rue's indifference was something to admire, really. Wala siyang pakialam sa sasabihin ng iba, and she wore it proudly, like a badge.
I let out a breath I didn't know I was holding, feeling a little lighter knowing that she was as unconcerned as ever.
If she wasn't bothered, maybe I didn't need to be either.
Ilang sandali lang ay bumukas muli ang pinto ng studio, and Sylvie entered, clipboard in hand, her gaze as sharp as ever. Sylvie Briggs, our manager, was all business. At 35, she had an almost intimidating presence, her strict demeanor made clear by the way she scanned us, looking for the smallest flaws.
"Alright, you know the drill," she announced, her eyes narrowing at the equipment scattered around. "I want everything perfect. No slip-ups tonight." She barely gave us a chance to warm up before making us run through our setlist, her sharp tone cutting through any small mistake.
Every missed note, every offbeat was met with a pointed remark and a brusque demand to start over. Nonchalantly rude, just the way she was, like a drill sergeant who'd seen it all before.
Wave stood at the front, her voice powerful yet steady, guiding us with a quiet but grounding presence. Aza tuned her bass, her fingers deft and focused. Ashi sat at the piano, his fingers dancing over the keys with practiced ease. Rue settled behind her drum kit, twirling a drumstick as if in her own world, while I adjusted my guitar strap, mentally bracing myself.
"From the top!" Sylvie barked, snapping us back to attention. Her tone left no room for arguments.
The music flowed again, seamlessly, filling the room with layers of sound. The rhythm took over as we played, and for a moment, I felt the weight of my worries lift away. Pero sa tuwing iniisip namin na nakuha na namin, may pupunang mali si Sylvie; iyong halos hindi na mapansing detalye, na siyang magiging dahilan ay magpapaulit-ulit sa amin hanggang sa ramdam na namin ito hanggang sa aming kalamnan.
