- The Calm Night -

The sun was sinking low, staining the sky in bruised shades of orange and violet. Its last light slipped through the half-open curtains, stretching long shadows across Jason’s bedroom floor. Jason lay slumped on his bed, his ginger hair a tangled mess against the pillow, his face buried deep as though the fabric could swallow him whole. The room was quiet, too quiet, except for the faint, uneven sound of muffled sobbing.

He tried to keep it down. He always did.

A few feet away, Penta stood awkwardly near the desk, his bass guitar still strapped to his shoulder. He wasn’t sure whether to speak or stay silent. Penta had never been good at moments like these moments where emotions filled the air so thickly, they felt heavier than sound. He adjusted his glasses, fingers tightening around the neck of his instrument, and waited.

Jason had invited him over to play music together, just like they had planned days ago. Loud music. Raw music. The kind that made feelings easier to handle because they could be buried under distortion and drums. Penta had arrived early, excited and nervous as usual, hoping today would be another step toward his dream of becoming a real musician; not just a student pretending to be one.

Jason was always supportive. Too supportive, sometimes.

“Penta,” Jason suddenly muttered, lifting his head just enough to speak. His voice was hoarse but determined. “Don’t be shy. My uncle and I got your back. Always. Come on, bring that bass on.”

Penta hesitated only for a second before nodding. He stepped closer, setting his bag down carefully, as if afraid of taking up too much space. Music soon filled the room in a hard, loud, and unpolished rhythm. Jason’s guitar screamed through the small speakers, drowning out the earlier sobs, while Penta followed closely, fingers flying with surprising confidence. In moments like this, Penta forgot his nervousness. He forgot classrooms, exams, and lonely apartments. There was only rhythm.

The door creaked open.

Boris stepped inside quietly, as though he didn’t want to interrupt the harmony. He was carrying two cold cans of soft drink, condensation beading down his fingers. He set them gently on the desk.

“You boys sound great,” Boris said warmly.

Penta flinched slightly, then relaxed. He pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose and reached for one of the drinks with both hands. “Th-thank you, Uncle Boris,” he said, bowing his head a little out of habit.

They had known each other for almost two years now. Jason and Penta had met in the same university classroom, bonded over music and shared exhaustion. Penta had come from another province alone, chasing a better education and a fragile dream of becoming a musician. Jason and later, Boris had welcomed him without hesitation. Family, they called it. Penta had never corrected them.

“Penta, are you okay, my boy?” Boris asked gently.

“Just a little tired,” Penta replied with a soft giggle. “I had to clean my apartment.”

Jason suddenly struck a loud chord” WHAM!” and laughed. “Enough seriousness! Guys, today is Penta’s birthday!” He grinned wildly. “Happy birthday, buddy!”

Penta froze.

His cheeks burned red instantly, his mind scrambling for a response that wouldn’t sound stupid. He hadn’t expected anyone to remember. He hadn’t even planned to celebrate.

“I-uh-thank you,” he finally managed, voice barely above a whisper.

“My boy,” Boris said after a pause, his tone smooth and reassuring, “you may rest here tonight.”

Jason didn’t even hesitate. “Yeah! Come on, Penta. We can browse more music, plan our next practice.”

Boris smiled at Penta, a calm, patient smile, as if offering permission rather than insisting. Penta looked from Jason to Boris, then down at his shoes. After a moment, he nodded.

“Okay,” he said softly.

Outside, the sun finally disappeared beyond the horizon. The shadows in the room stretched just a little longer.