𝙏𝙝𝙚 𝙏𝙧𝙤𝙪𝙗𝙡𝙚 𝙒𝙞𝙩𝙝 𝙊𝙥𝙚𝙣𝙞𝙣𝙜 𝙐𝙥.

Don't Cross The Line.

West rubbed the sleep from his eyes as he crossed campus, still feeling the four-hour nap he took after he arrived in the early morning clinging to his body like fog. His limbs were loose, like they hadn't figured out he was upright yet. He'd survived his afternoon classes on autopilot, letting the lectures blur together. His mind had already checked out... checked in somewhere else entirely.

The theatre.

That was the heart of it all. If Lia and Franny were anywhere, it'd be there.

He pushed open the heavy door, and the faint, echoey hum of piano scales floated out to greet him. The place smelled like sawdust, dry curtains, and leftover ambition.

There they were... Lia, perched sideways in one of the front-row seats like she owned the place, and Franny hunched over the grand piano, scribbling into a book that looked like it'd been through a war.

"Hey." West called out, lifting a hand. "I'm here."

Lia turned, squinting like she was trying to place him.

"Oh. I forgot about you." She said, deadpan. "Totally forgot you even existed."

West smirked, unfazed. "You would like that, wouldn't you?"

Franny snorted without looking up. Lia rolled her eyes, but the corner of her mouth betrayed her. She was amused. Barely.

"Hey, don't take that tone with me, young man." Lia chided, crossing her arms.

Franny abandoned the piano and dropped down beside her.

"We'll give you a shot." She said, like it was no big deal.

West blinked. "Seriously?"

"Seriously." Franny echoed, gesturing toward center stage. "Go on. Audition. Right now."

"I didn't bring my guitar." He admitted, hands raising in surrender.

"Then what the fuck are you doing here?" Lia asked, annoyance very evident in her tone.

"I can sing." West offered. "I mean--I can play guitar too. Like, really well. But if singing's all I've got right now..."

Franny gave Lia a look. Lia gave one right back. An entire conversation passed between them without a word.

Then Lia waved a dismissive hand. "Fine. Do your little performance, rockstar."

West stepped forward, clearing his throat, trying to summon a voice that didn't sound as tired as he felt.

Then the door creaked open.

Someone stepped inside.

West's eyes flicked toward the entrance... and there he was.

Roy.

Their eyes locked across the space, and for a moment, neither of them said a word.

Just silence.

West stood there, frozen mid-step, and Roy stood by the door like he wasn't sure if he should get in or just turn around and leave. The tension wasn't loud. It was quiet... tucked under their skin.

Then Roy cleared his throat.

"Hey." He greeted, voice low, trying too hard to sound casual. "Didn't know you'd be here."

West tilted his head, then gave a small nod. "Yeah. I'm back."

Lia raised an eyebrow but didn't say anything. Franny was less subtle. She straight-up turned her head to observe the moment, lips pressing into a smirk.

Roy wandered in, hands shoved in his pockets. He moved like he wasn't watching West, but he was. He totally was.

"How was your weekend?" He asked, nonchalant, like he was asking about the weather. He knew who West had gone to see back home, and it stung.