Behind The Beat

XI - The Reflection

The rehearsal space buzzed with activity as crew members packed up gear and bandmates exchanged thoughts on their set. Rozalie lingered near the edge of the room, her guitar slung over her shoulder. She wasn't sure where to stand or what to say, so she kept quiet, listening to the murmur of conversation around her.

Chris's voice cut through the chatter, louder and more pointed than the rest.

— So, are we just gonna ignore the fact that we threw someone on stage last-minute and hoped for the best?

The room stilled for a beat, tension creeping in as everyone turned to look. Chris leaned against a speaker, his arms crossed, a smirk tugging at the corner of his lips.

— What's your point, Chris? — Val asked, her tone sharp, a warning edge to her words.

Chris shrugged, pushing off the speaker and gesturing loosely toward Rozalie.

— My point is, it was a risk. A big one. She pulled it off, yeah, but what if she didn't?

Rozalie's stomach sank. She stared at the strap of her guitar, her knuckles whitening as she gripped it tightly. Maybe she was a liability. Maybe this was all too much, too soon.

Mike stepped forward, his expression calm but firm.

— And what exactly are you trying to say?

Chris scoffed.

— Just that we should think twice before putting someone inexperienced on stage.

Rozalie's mind flashed back to the panic she'd felt before stepping on stage, the way every movement had felt scrutinized and wrong.

Val's eyes narrowed, and she crossed the room in a few quick strides, stopping just shy of Chris.

— You mean like the time you forgot the entire intro to your own song at our first show? Or when you froze up during soundcheck and we had to push the set back an hour?

Chris's smirk faltered, his posture stiffening.

— That's not the same.

— No, it's not — Val interrupted, her voice rising slightly. — Because she handled it. She didn't freeze or make excuses. She got up there and did the job.

Val's voice dropped slightly, her eyes narrowing as she stepped closer to Chris.

— You can question me all you want, but don't stand here and belittle someone who just saved our asses. She's one of us now. Get used to it.

The room was silent, the weight of Val's words hanging heavy in the air. Chris muttered something under his breath, avoiding her gaze.

— Thought so — Val said, stepping back. Her eyes flicked to Rozalie, softening slightly as they met her anxious gaze. — Let's take five.

The cool night air hit them as they stepped outside. Rozalie followed Val and Mike silently, her thoughts swirling from the confrontation with Chris. The tension in the rehearsal space had eased, but not enough to shake the unease that coiled tightly in her chest.

She sat on the concrete step, curling her legs to her chest, her arms wrapped protectively around her knees. The chill seeped into her like a quiet counterbalance to the storm of thoughts in her head, but she didn't mind.

Mike leaned against the wall a few feet away, his hands shoved deep into his pockets. Val sat down beside Rozalie, close enough that their shoulders almost brushed. She lit a cigarette with practiced ease, taking a slow drag before exhaling, her head turning deliberately away from Rozalie so the smoke drifted harmlessly into the night.

Rozalie caught the gesture, and it sent a faint warmth through her despite her nerves.

Val rested one arm on her knee, the other hand lightly settling on Rozalie's, as if anchoring her.

— You okay?

Rozalie hesitated, her gaze fixed on the cracked concrete beneath her feet.

Val's thumb moved back and forth against Rozalie's knee, a steady, deliberate stroke that felt more like a silent reassurance than a casual touch. The motion wasn't rushed; it was careful, almost grounding, like she was trying to smooth away the tension Rozalie couldn't hide.

— I'm fine — she said softly, but her voice lacked conviction.

Mike studied Rozalie for a moment then let out a low sigh.

— Don't let Chris get to you, kiddo — he said, his tone calm but steady. — He talks a lot, but most of it's just hot air.

Rozalie shrugged, her fingers absently picking at a loose thread on her sleeve.

— He wasn't wrong, though.

Val's jaw tightened, and her hand gave Rozalie's knee a gentle squeeze.

— The hell he wasn't — Val said, her tone carrying a quiet edge. — Look, Rose, you're here because you earned it. You've been putting in the work, and it shows. Chris just doesn't like when the spotlight's not on him.

— She's right — Mike chimed in. — You handled that show better than most would've in your position. That's what matters.

Rozalie bit her lip, the tension in her chest easing just slightly, though her doubts still lingered.

— I don't know. It just... feels like I'm always one step away from screwing it up.

Val exhaled another drag of her cigarette, turning her head away again before flicking the ash to the ground. Her gaze softened as she looked back at Rozalie.

— You're not. And even if you were, so what? That's part of it. None of us are perfect, least of all Chris.

Rozalie gave a faint, shaky laugh, the sound more out of reflex than amusement.

— He's got a point, though. It was a risk putting me up there.

Mike crouched down slightly to her level, his tone even and reassuring.

— It was a risk, yeah. But every show's a risk. Every time we get on stage, we're gambling—on the sound, the set, the audience. That's what makes it worth it.

— And you rose to the occasion — Val added, her voice softer now, her thumb brushing over Rozalie's knee.

Rozalie glanced at Val's hand, the small gesture grounding her in a way she couldn't explain. The intimacy wasn't overwhelming; it was comforting, steady.

— Thanks — Rozalie murmured, though the tightness in her chest hadn't entirely gone away.

Mike straightened, brushing his hands on his jeans.

— Let's head back in. Chris'll think we're plotting against him if we stay out here too long.

Val laughed lightly, standing and snubbing her cigarette out on the edge of the step. She stood for a moment, her gaze lingering on Rozalie as if gauging her state of mind.

— Come on — she said softly, holding out her hand.

Rozalie hesitated for a second before placing her hand in Val's, letting her pull her to her feet. As they turned toward the door, Val's arm slid comfortably around Rozalie's shoulders, her fingers brushing against the fabric of Rozalie's sweater in a quiet, steadying rhythm.

The touch wasn't heavy—it didn't weigh Rozalie down—but it was present, a tether she didn't realize she needed until it was there. The warmth of Val's arm radiated through the chill of the night air, easing the knot in her chest just a little.

As they stepped back into the rehearsal space, the hum of activity greeted them again, but Rozalie found her gaze drifting to Val. Val's arm didn't leave her shoulders, staying firm and reassuring even as the room began to fill with noise and motion once more.

For the first time since the confrontation, Rozalie felt a flicker of relief, like she could breathe a little easier with Val there. She wasn't sure what to say or how to thank her, so she didn't. She just let herself be held, even in the chaos of the rehearsal room.