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sᴛᴀɢᴇ sᴏᴜɴᴄʜᴇᴄᴋs & sɪʟᴇɴᴄᴇs ᴡᴏʀᴛʜ ᴋᴇᴇᴘɪɴɢ

Tour life had rhythm now. Less like a riot, more like a pulse; but it didn’t start that way.

Amy joined first, she stood beside Riot like she’d always been part of the band. Race didn’t know her well yet. Just knew the room changed when she entered it, that Riot’s temper steadied when she looked at him. That said enough. He’d known Ree his whole life, but had never seen him this settled.

Then one day Riot sent a text, and Storm arrived. Race had heard plenty from Ryder over the years: Storm was trouble wrapped in charm. Known for starting messes and finishing them with a smile. A little too soft around kids. A little too fast on a motorcycle. The sunshine to Riot’s darkness. He was also a hell of a drummer. Loud in the way the good ones are, equal parts mischief and loyalty.

Race expected fucking chaos. What he didn’t expect was fit. From the first rehearsal, Storm dropped in like gravity. Like some part of The Underworld had just been waiting for him to catch up. Made the drums speak in new ways. Made Riot laugh, which honestly? Was its own miracle. Race didn’t say it out loud, but he liked the guy.

Suddenly the band wasn’t shifting, it was finally settling. And between gigs and gear hauls and too many coffees to count, he kept reaching for her. Karolina. Different band, same cities. And somehow, she’d carved a space between his ribs without even trying. She wasn’t a distraction, she was a reminder. That he could have this life, this fairytale. The place his hands landed when the stage was packed away.

Race still worked too much. Still fought when he shouldn’t. Still played like the strings owed him blood. But now, he texted her mid-rehearsal. Kissed her before flights. He wanted to land just to see her face. Now, she was the after-show he looked forward to most.

Tour was still chaos. Riot was still his asshole-self when Amy wasn't looking. But now, there was rhythm in it.