Finding My Voice

~33~

//A/N//: it is extremely interesting that once i decided i just wanted this to be over, i ended up writing this chapter super fast when it usually takes a million years. would someone pretty please explain that to me? also i definitely will add an epilogue. just cuz i fear this story needs one. 

also look at me go, two chapters in two days. such a baddie.

anyways i have a shit ton of other story ideas so please please please check those out once i release them. mwah!   x   -   s

...

The morning of the finale didn't feel like a dream come true. It felt like my stomach had been tied in knots and my throat was stuffed with cotton. I woke up before the alarm, staring at the ceiling of the hotel room, trying to steady my breathing and remind myself that today was the day. Not just a day—the day. The day we stood in front of millions of people, the day the votes came in, the day Almighty either went down in history as the most unlikely band to win The Voice or as the group that came close but didn't make it. Either way, nothing would ever be the same after tonight.

Jamie knocked on my door before sunrise. His voice was muffled through the wood, a simple, "You awake?" as though either of us had slept. When I opened it, he was already dressed in sweats, a grin tugging at his face like nerves hadn't touched him at all. "Come on," he said, shoving a cup of hotel coffee into my hands. "We're not crashing on the last lap." I followed him down to the lobby, where Anthony and Claire were bickering about whether to eat before rehearsal, Alex trailing quietly behind with his hood pulled up, earbuds in. We looked like any exhausted group of college kids dragging ourselves to class, not finalists about to sing in front of the country.

The drive to the studio was silent except for Anthony's occasional humming, his way of keeping his voice warm. I stared out the window at the Los Angeles skyline still draped in early-morning fog. The car felt heavy with nerves. Even Claire, usually bouncing with energy, was biting her lip.

Rehearsals began the second we stepped through the stage doors. The crew moved like a machine around us—cables, lights, sound checks, makeup schedules. Niall found us in the greenroom, guitar in hand, looking more like a bandmate than our coach. "Alright, my legends," he said with his Irish lilt, flashing that grin that always settled us. "One last run-through, yeah? Let's make it count."

We started with "Through the Dark," our coach performance. The lights weren't fully on yet, just the stark work lamps as we gathered around Niall and his guitar. Alex opened the first verse, his voice shaking a little but steadying as Anthony joined him. Claire cut in, clear as glass. Jamie and I came in together on the chorus, and for a second, despite the nerves, it felt perfect. Our voices clicked into place, and I caught Jamie already watching me with that spark in his eye that always made it feel like more than singing. Niall nodded furiously, strumming harder, egging us on. By the time the five of us came together for the bridge, the crew members had stopped moving, just listening.

"That's it," Niall said when the last chord rang out. "That's the magic. Don't change a thing tonight." He glanced at me. "Pyper, don't think—just sing. You've got it."

Then came "Teeth." The sound check for that one was chaos—strobe lights, fog machines, heavy beats rattling the stage under our feet. We didn't even get through the first chorus before Claire tossed her ponytail and muttered, "This is going to kill us." Anthony grinned, sweat already gathering at his temple. "Worth it."

We ran it again, pushing harder each time, until Jamie and I were practically shouting into each other's faces, daring each other to go bigger. By the end, I was gasping, hair sticking to my neck, and even quiet Alex was red-faced from the energy. The stage manager clapped. "That's the one. That's your closer."