“What do you mean?” His brows lifted, curious but edged with challenge.

“Well,” I said, holding his gaze, “as you’ve been saying for centuries, songs should have meaning. And for them to have meaning, you have to figure out what you want to write. So—pick a topic.”

He actually went quiet, the smugness slipping just enough for thought to show.

“I guess… how demons are perceived.”

“Okay. And how do you think they’re perceived?”

He scoffed, the sound low. “Is that really a question? People see demons as nothing but sin-filled creatures without feelings.”

“Alright then, how about this?”

I leaned back slightly, letting my eyes fall shut as I hummed a melody. The notes curled warm and low in my chest before spilling softly into the space between us.

“They see our flames as proof of sin, A storm of vice that roars within. But shadows lie—they twist, they bend, Our fire’s the truth they can’t comprehend.”

Kael’s grin was slow, almost genuine. “I actually like that.”

I snorted. “Actually? I’m insulted.”

His grin widened, something almost dangerous in it, as he jotted the words down. Then, without warning, his voice filled the room, smooth and rich as he started to sing.

"They crown us wicked, hearts of flame, But never bother to learn our name. In every ember, a truth concealed, Not sin, but scars they’ve left unhealed."

As he sang, his voice carried a fierce, unyielding emotion that stirred something restless inside me. When his song ended, the quiet between us felt like a weight pressing down. I didn’t want to speak for him or anyone else. I just needed to let out what was burning beneath my skin—words I never dared say aloud.

I closed my eyes and breathed in, then let the melody rise, low and steady, like a secret whispered only to myself.

"We fight for a place they say we can’t claim, Standing alone in the weight of their blame. They’ll never see what they’ve thrown away, We burn, we bleed, but we still stay. They call us monsters, sharpen their lies, Never look past what meets their eyes. Their doors stay closed, their voices cold, But still we sing what can’t be told. We’ve walked in rooms that turned their face, We’ve felt the sting of their quiet disgrace. Not wanted there, but we still remain, Our fire survives through all their chains. We fight for a place they say we can’t claim, Standing alone in the weight of their blame. They’ll never see what they’ve thrown away, We burn, we bleed, but we still stay. Let them decide what they want to see, Their truth can’t touch what we choose to be. Through every shadow, our fire remains— A voice that sings beyond their chains."

The silence between us felt heavier than any lyric I’d ever written, thick with emotions I didn’t dare name. Kael had leaned in as I sang, almost unconsciously, and I hadn’t realized just how close he’d gotten until the final note slipped from my lips. Those same lips now hovered less than two inches from his—close enough that I could feel the faint heat of his breath mingling with mine.

His gaze locked with mine, eyes deep and unreadable, holding a storm I wasn’t sure I wanted to understand. Or maybe I just didn’t want to. My pulse thrummed in my ears, traitorously loud.

Before I could think better of it, I turned my head, breaking the invisible thread between us, my eyes dropping to the notebook still clutched in his hand.

“You haven’t written the rest of the song down,” I murmured, my voice lower than I intended, almost breathless.

At my words, he shifted back, putting a little distance between us as his attention dropped to the notebook in his hands. The air between us, once thick with unspoken things, now held only one sharp, undeniable emotion—embarrassment.

I didn’t have long to dwell on it, because my stomach twisted in panic when a knock rattled my door.

“Kael, you in there, man?”

In an instant, Kael was on his feet, moving toward the door like he fully intended to answer it. Before he could do something reckless, I caught his wrist. His eyes snapped to my hand, a questioning brow arching.

I quickly let go, pointing toward the small door beside my desk.

“Bathroom. It connects to the main room.”

I watched him slip out, telling myself I was only doing it to make sure he actually closed the door behind him. That was the excuse I clung to, anyway.

I felt her gaze on my back as I left, sharp and lingering, like she was trying to read something she wasn’t supposed to see. It made me want to glance over my shoulder, to catch her in the act—but instead, I forced my feet to move, shutting the door that connected our rooms before slipping out the second one.

Akel’s eyes immediately locked onto me. He glanced between the door he was standing in front of and the one I had just emerged from, suspicion flickering in his expression.

“I could have sworn you went in this door earlier,” he said slowly.

“I did,” I admitted without hesitation. No point in lying—it would only make him dig deeper. “Thought it was the bathroom. Turns out it was the Celestial Being’s room. She was gracious enough to direct me to the actual bathroom, which just so happens to be connected to her chambers.”

“So you spent half an hour in the bathroom?” His tone made it clear he wasn’t buying that for a second.

“After exchanging a few words with the Celestial Being herself,” I added with a lazy smirk.

He chuckled, one brow rising. “How was that?”

“Amusing,” I drawled. “It’s almost too easy to ruffle their perfect white feathers.”

A dull thump echoed from the door, sharp enough to make both of us pause—like someone had just hurled something at it.

Akel’s grin spread slow and deliberate. “I think she heard us.”

“Probably,” I muttered, lips twitching. “We should get back to the main room before she steps out and skewers us with that holy glare of hers.”

That earned me a deep chuckle as we moved down the hallway. The main room greeted us with the flicker of a muted TV, Vel, Caith, and Tek sprawled lazily across the couch. Reruns of our last concert played on the screen, the sound low enough to make the distant applause seem like it was happening in another world.

They’d all dropped their glammers, and their demon forms were on full display—horns catching the light, skin in tones no human could carry, eyes that gleamed like molten metal. I thought about putting mine back up in case any angels were lurking, but like Celeste, they seemed to have retreated to their rooms, avoiding this part of the bus entirely.

As I heard him walk away, the faint sound of his boots against the floor fading, my lips curled into a scoff. He loves to talk about how fake I am, like I’ve built my life out of carefully crafted lies. But then he turns around and does the exact same thing. Pretending. Performing. Acting like the truth is just another song lyric to be rewritten.

Not that I expected him to be honest—not with me, not with anyone. I didn’t want him to be; too much honesty between us would tangle both our bands in knots we’d never get free from. But still… hearing him smooth it over like that made him every bit the fake asshole he accuses me of being.

I pushed the thought aside before it could dig in deeper.

Standing, I slid my notebook onto the desk’s surface, the weight of it familiar in my hands. My fingers found the key hanging against my collarbone, cool metal warmed slightly by my skin. Kael might have thought he’d found my personal notebook earlier, but he hadn’t—not even close. That one had been nothing but songs I’d be willing to share if I ever got the choice.

The real one—this one—was tucked away. I slid the key into the lock, the click soft but satisfying, and pulled the drawer open.

Inside lay a single notebook, its spine worn, pages so full they bulged against the cover. Tucked between them were folded scraps of paper, each one stuffed with words I couldn’t let go of. The front bore a faded crayon heart with “Celeste Moments” scrawled across it.

Every song inside was a memory—mine.

I set it gently on the desk, pulled a fresh sheet of paper from the drawer stuffed with blanks, and reached for one of the countless pencils scattered across the surface.

Then, with the slightest catch in my breath, I touched the tip to the page and began to write.