Morning came slower this time, or maybe it was just that they noticed it more. The sun's gold spilled into Vale Studio like liquid honey, catching on the dust motes that danced lazily above the equipment. Outside, the city roared on — fans, streams, headlines — but inside, there was only the hum of instruments, the scent of brewed coffee, and the faint trace of last night's electricity.
Rian stretched against the console, still in yesterday's clothes, hair mussed and eyes bright with an energy that hadn't yet worn down. Lian perched on the edge of the couch, one leg tucked beneath him, scrolling through the comments on their new track. His phone vibrated continuously, each notification a reminder that the world outside had caught up to them — and fast.
"They… actually get it," Lian said softly, more to himself than to Rian.
"Who?" Rian asked without turning, strumming a lazy chord on the guitar.
