The Spotlight

Chapter 43

The rehearsal studio feels different today. Smaller somehow, like the walls are closing in with the weight of what's coming. Tomorrow night. The finale. After everything that's happened this week-the careful distances, the professional politeness, the way Gary and I have been orbiting each other like planets afraid to collide-this is our last rehearsal together.

I adjust my microphone stand, hyperaware of every movement, every breath. Gary sits at the piano across from me, close enough to perform but worlds apart in every other way. We've perfected this dance over the last four days: arrive, rehearse flawlessly, leave without a personal word. We communicate only through the music, maintaining the physical distance between us-a chasm filled with unspoken words and careful indifference.

It's exhausting.

"From the bridge," Gary says, his voice professionally neutral as his fingers find the keys.

I nod, clearing my throat. We launch into the final section of our duet, our voices blending with the same effortless chemistry that's been torturing us both. The song builds to its crescendo, our harmonies weaving together like they were meant to exist this way, and for a moment I forget about everything except the music.

The final note of our duet hangs in the air of Fountain Studio, suspended between us like a fragile glass ornament neither dares to touch. Gary's fingers still rest on the keys while I stand across from him, the last echoes of our harmony fading into silence. Our last rehearsal together, over just like that.

The silence crushes in, heavy and thick.

"You sound good," he finally says, not looking up from the piano. "Ready for tomorrow."

"Thanks," I respond, my voice equally flat.

His eyes flick briefly to mine before darting away. "See you tomorrow, then."

"Yeah. Tomorrow." Our final performance. The last time we'll stand on stage together.

The weight of that reality settles over me like a shroud. Tomorrow night, everything ends. Win or lose, this chapter closes forever, and Gary disappears from my life completely.

I don't wait for anything else. I just give a small nod, grab my jacket, and walk off the stage. My footsteps echo through the empty space, each step marking another moment in this cold war we've perfected.

As I push through a set of double doors into the main corridor, I almost collide with Robbie, who's just arriving. He's cheerful and energetic, a stark contrast to the mood I just left behind.

"Oi, Scott! Running away already?" He pulls me into a quick, friendly hug.

The casual warmth of the embrace feels foreign and almost makes me flinch. After days of careful distance with Gary, any kind of physical contact feels overwhelming.

I force a smile, trying to shake off the residual tension from the rehearsal. "Just finished."

"How are you?" His eyes search my face with concern. "You look like you could use a proper meal and a good night's sleep."

"Is it that obvious?" I try to laugh, but it comes out strained.

"Nah, just recognizing the look. Had it myself once or twice before big shows." He leans against the wall, studying me with that intuitive way he has. "Heard your rehearsal through the door though-sounded bloody fantastic."

"Thanks." I tuck my hair behind my ear, suddenly self-conscious. "David's been practicing non-stop for your duet."

"He's a machine, that one." Robbie grins. "You two ready to battle it out tomorrow?"