Minutes before the rest of them even showed up, Elijah had been in the rehearsal room alone. He hadn't touched his coffee—he sat in the middle of the worn couch, notebook open on one knee, his guitar pressed against his ribs like it was the only thing keeping him upright. The room was dark and heavy with unspoken thoughts.
When Ryan finally arrived, he bounced in, tossing a bag of crisps onto the amp. "Morning, Romeo."
Josh came next without a word—only raising an eyebrow as he plugged in his guitar like he sensed a storm was coming. For a while, it was just the three of them: Elijah, Ryan, and Josh, each wrapped in their own quiet concerns.
Elijah couldn't hold it in any longer. He blurted it out, his voice low and dry:
"I kissed her."
Ryan froze, mid-toss. Josh stopped tuning his guitar entirely. The room seemed to pause, every sound waiting. Elijah's eyes, distant and pained, met theirs for a moment as he continued:
"I kissed Ophelia. We were laughing about one of Lou's dating disasters—she was turning it into a song—and then I looked at her, and I just... forgot everything. I kissed her."
A heavy silence fell over the room.
Ryan's brow furrowed. "Wait... you kissed her? And then what?"
Elijah's voice grew quieter. "She kissed me back. For a second. Then she pulled away and left. Just like that—without saying a word."
Josh let out a soft exhale. "Damn, man."
Ryan's voice was low, laced with concern. "So, what now? I mean... did anything change?"
Elijah shook his head slowly, rubbing the side of his face as if trying to erase the memory. "I thought it'd be different this time. I thought we'd finally break the cycle. But... it's like we're stuck, you know? We get close for a moment, then she's gone—every single time."
Ryan's eyes were thoughtful. "Sounds like you're both circling the same ghost, never really landing."
Elijah glanced at Ryan and then at Josh. "Yeah... exactly that. It feels like we're flying around each other, always in mid-air, never landing. Like... we're caught in a storm."
Before Josh could reply, the door banged open with a dramatic crash. In burst Robert—late as usual—his trademark sunglasses perched on his nose despite the dim light, and a half-eaten sausage roll clutched in one hand. He strolled in as if he hadn't a care in the world.
"Alright, lads!" Robert boomed, nonchalantly dropping a chair beside the couch. "Sorry I'm late—I needed my morning sausage therapy. What's got you all looking like you just lost your best friend?"
Ryan shot him a half-amused, half-exasperated look. "Robert... you missed the whole thing."
Josh just shook his head slightly as Robert plopped down, already taking a hearty bite from his roll.
Elijah took a steadying breath before repeating, "I kissed her. I mean, I kissed Ophelia—and she kissed me back, for one second, and then—she left."
Robert paused mid-chew. His sunglasses shifted as he processed the words. "Ophelia, huh?" he drawled slowly. "You know, that sounds like classic bird behavior."
Elijah frowned. "Bird behavior?"
Robert set his half-eaten sausage roll down, leaning forward with unexpected intensity. "Yeah, listen. Imagine two birds—pigeons or swallows, doesn't matter—which are forever circling a power line. They get close, they try to land, but it never works. One swoops down, the other takes off. It's a perpetual dance. You two—your pattern, your kiss—it's just like that. You think you're about to settle down, to finally land, but then she pulls away and you're back in the air, stuck in the same damn cycle."
Ryan snorted at the absurdity and truth combined in Robert's words. Josh's eyes softened with understanding. Elijah stared at Robert, surprised that the normally irreverent, annoying guy could be so piercingly poetic.
Robert flashed a mischievous grin. "You see it, Eli? You're like one of those birds, forever caught in your perfect storm. You just keep circling, hoping to find a safe landing—and never do."
Elijah managed a small, rueful smile. "I guess I do."
Ryan, still processing, added quietly, "It's like no matter how hard you try, you just can't escape the wind."
Silence fell again, heavy but now laden with a shared understanding. Slowly, Elijah picked up his guitar again, his fingers finding the familiar comfort of the strings. He strummed a few quiet chords and began singing, his voice raw and unvarnished:
"There's something in the room with us tonight It's caught between the dawn and morning light Something that you said that drove it home Left me underneath in your perfect storm..."
The band leaned in to listen, the words wrapping around the shared ache in the room. Elijah continued, letting the melody carry his truth:
"Something that you said that changed the tide Tangled in the weight of our own lies Is everything we had as good as gone? Lying in the wreck of your perfect storm..."
When the last chord faded, Elijah didn't look up immediately. The storm was still swirling inside him. Finally, Ryan broke the silence with a soft remark: "It's a good song, man."
"Yeah," Josh agreed. "It's more than a song—it's what you're feeling."
Robert raised his cup in a quiet toast. "To pigeons and power lines—and to the messes we write ourselves into."
Elijah managed a crooked smile. "You're an idiot."
"An idiot who's right," Robert replied with that familiar wink.
In that moment, the tension eased into something resembling understanding. Though the storm still raged, for a few shared minutes they all knew the cycle all too well—and sometimes, even in the chaos, a bit of truth could be found.
