Chapter Text
Sebastian was already five cigarettes deep and it wasn't even noon yet.
After dinner the night before, he'd spent the rest of the evening trying figure out what to do with his hands, a persistent buzzing of nerves inside him. He'd fished out his stash of tobacco and rolling papers from underneath the loose floorboard in his bedroom — Robin would have never thought to move the comic chest that sat atop it — and perched himself at his desk, his leg bouncing as his fingers deftly packed the papers, his tongue sliding along the edge to seal them. His tobacco had run out just as he had filled the battered pack he'd kept them in, and he'd crept outside into the cool night air to smoke one.
Fuck, he was nervous — so much so that he'd barely gotten three hours of sleep. Uncontrollable thoughts of the next day had flooded his mind, tossing him back and forth between sheer eagerness and an almost crushing fear that something would go awry and he'd make an absolute idiot of himself on stage for everyone to see. For Lyra to see.
As Sebastian laid in bed, his eyes glued to the darkness of his ceiling and his right hand shoved idly in the waistband of his boxer briefs, he'd begun to run through a mental checklist of everything that could go wrong. Sam could play his guitar too loudly and blow out the speakers, one of Abigail's cymbals could crack, the smoking could finally catch up to Sebastian and he could lose his voice, the microcontroller in his keyboard could short circuit. The list grew ever more concerning the longer he spiraled, and it only worsened when his mind shifted to the fact that he was planning on taking his bike out for the first time in months.
He'd already been awake when his alarm blared, sleep having evaded him for two hours prior, and decided to try to fight off the jitters with his tried and true method: standing in the shower, one hand pumping his cock and the other curled into a fist in his wet hair, giving the strands rhythmic tugs. The anxiety of the day was proving to be too much; pleasure gave way to frustration, which did nothing but add fuel to the fire of the tightly coiled tension inside him.
In a desperate, last-ditch effort, he'd shut his eyes tightly, imagining that it wasn't his fingers pulling the stinging pain from the roots of his hair, but Lyra's.
Fucking finally — there it was. That sensation deep inside him, nearing the base of his cock. He'd pushed out a ragged breath, picturing her full lips parting for him, taking the length of him with a surprised gag as the head hit the back of her throat. His hand had begun to pump faster, and he'd been thankful that his sharp pants were muted by the hissing stream of the shower.
He'd thought of what she'd look like sprawled out naked on his bed, his arms holding her thighs in place as he devoured her. The peak of her nipples, the flush of her face as pleading whines and moans bounced off the walls of his bedroom.
That had done the job. Sebastian, releasing his hair to bite into the flesh of his palm, had begun to tremble as warm milky-white strands surged from his tip. He'd stayed half-bent against the shower wall to catch his breath, unsure if the hint of guilt he had felt about getting off to the idea of tongue fucking Doctor Harvey's cousin was warranted.
"Dude, you're smoking again? I just finished breaking down the drum set, so we need to load it up."
Sam's voice yanked Sebastian from his reverie, and he turned away from his friend to pretend to inspect the side of Robin's pickup truck to hide that fact that the front of his pants felt tighter. Lifting his foot, he plucked the cigarette from his mouth and dragged it across the bottom of his boot before shoving the butt back into the pack.
"Just making sure the tires are fine after that flat she had last week," he lied, sort of.
Robin had run over a nail the week before and, even though it had been thoroughly patched, had been slightly hesitant about letting Sam drive it to Zuzu because of it. She'd offered to drive instead of taking the bus with Maru, but Sam declined, promising to take extra care of her truck. There were two things he was neurotic about in life: his guitar and his skateboard. The only person he trusted enough for safe transport of either was himself.
"They look all right to me," Sam said, arching a brow. "You doing okay? You look even more tired than normal."
Was it that obvious? "Just nerves." Sebastian looked Sam up and down, noting the frantic gleam in his eyes and the way his blond hair seemed a bit more disheveled than it usually was. "Are you doing okay?"
Sam hauled in a hefty breath, gathering himself before admitting, "I think I'm just nervous too. This is the first paid gig I've managed to land, so I want to make sure everything goes smoothly."
That made two of them. "I didn't know we were getting paid."
Sam cocked his head to the side. "Yeah, dude, I told you and Abby the other day at the saloon. Five hundred gold each."
That's right, Sam had mentioned it during their game of pool. Sebastian had barely registered anything that had been said to him that night; aside from the usual forgetfulness that came with being violently high, his brain had been so fogged with Lyra that there had hardly been space for anything else.
With a laugh, Sam clasped Sebastian on the shoulder before turning back toward his house, where Abigail was waving them over to help with the drum set. "I get it, man," he said. "Pretty girl shows up and bats her eyelashes at you, and all of a sudden, you're a smitten kitten." He let out an airy sigh. "Can't say I blame you, though. If she wasn't already super into you, I'd try to make my move."
Sebastian scoffed. "She's not into me," he rebutted, hoisting the bass drum onto his shoulder. "She's just friendly. And I'm not a smitten kitten."
"Are you blind?" Abigail walked past him, a cymbal tucked under each arm. "I haven't had the chance to have a proper conversation with her and even I can see she's got the hots for you."
Delicately placing the drum onto the moving pad in the bed of the truck, Sebastian reiterated, "She's just friendly."
"Sucks that she doesn't live here," Sam commented. He slid the cymbals out from Abigail's hold, settling them side-by-side next to the drum. "You two would make a cute couple. Where does she live anyway? Maybe you guys could do the whole long distance type of thing."
The question stopped Sebastian short. "I… don't know," he answered, feeling a bit dense. He should know this — they'd talked for hours yesterday about comics and bands and different types of motorcycles. Lyra had thrown question after question at him, digging curiously into the different parts of him, and avoided providing any too-personal information about herself so efficiently that he hadn't even noticed at the time. Somehow, the conversation had always come back around to him.
"She's coming today, right?" Abigail inquired. "You should try to catch her after the show and spend some time with her to get to know her. We'll take care of the break down and loading back up, right, Sam?"
"Sure thing."
Though he'd allow himself to be raked over hot coals before ever admitting it, Sebastian adored his friends. They annoyed him to no end sometimes, sure, but they always looked out for him and had his best interest at heart. Even back in high school when Alex and his oafish gridball buddies would provoke him, Sam and Abigail stuck by his side, throwing back insults and punches and sitting in detention with him without complaint, the trio sporting matching black eyes and split lips.
Thank Yoba they'd all grown up and grown past that now. Even Alex flashed him a wry smile instead of a middle finger when they passed each other in town or at community events. Still, it was nice to know he'd always have Sam and Abigail in his corner.
Which was why he felt a tinge of remorse that he hadn't — and didn't want to — disclose to them that he'd already spent time with Lyra, enough to notice the freckles dotting her cheeks and the way her mouth pushed into a slight pout when she concentrated on something. She'd been in his bedroom, had been invited to dinner by his mom, and was starting to seep into every intimate thought he had. The selfish side of him relished in the fact that there was a bubble of time and space around them that only the two of them had access to.
Sebastian, Sam, and Abigail finished loading up their instruments and equipment into the truck bed, securing it all with more tie-down straps than Sebastian thought was necessary, but Sam insisted upon. They shared brief parting words, Sam eager to get on the road for the hour-long drive to the city, and Sebastian tore himself from them, his hands preparing another cigarette for his walk back home.
He felt a swell of pride in his chest as he lifted the garage door and gazed at his motorcycle. Sebastian had put more time and effort in it than he had anything else in life. It was his escape during the evenings that sat too heavily on his shoulders, his preferred way to run from this suffocating town when all he wanted to do was feel the wind lashing his hair and shout into the roar of the engine.
As he zipped open his riding backpack and filled it with his spare helmet, he resisted the urge to light up another cigarette. If he kept going at this rate, he'd run out by the time he got to Zuzu.
Fuck, he was nervous.
~ ~ ~
Lyra couldn't decide.
She'd curled her hair, allowing it to cascade down her back and over her shoulders before grabbing a hair tie to pull it up into a ponytail, leaving out just enough to frame her face. After inspecting her reflection in the mirror, turning to check her profile and holding her phone up to awkwardly look at how the backside appeared, she yanked the piece of elastic out with a wince of pain, shaking her head side to side.
The apartment looked as though a tornado had torn through it; her suitcase and the tiny closet had been emptied, her clothes scattered from the bed to the couch and everywhere in between. She had no clue what to wear. A summer dress seemed like a good idea until she put it on and inspected it. The ghost of a red wine stain blotted the front and she remembered with a groan that in one of her drunken stupors back home, she'd used the dress as a rag to wipe up one of her many spills and didn't wash it in time.
"Why did I even pack this stupid thing?" Lyra whispered to herself as she pulled it off over her head and tossed it toward the trash can, where it landed a foot away.
Fuck, she was nervous. Her palms were incredibly clammy, to the point where twisting open her mascara was a struggle. She couldn't decide on that either — how much makeup was too much? Should she stick to a more natural look, or take a chance on something bold?
Aside from the the routine eyebrow sculpting and manicures, she couldn't remember the last time she'd put this much thought into her appearance. She hardly wore any makeup these days, just couldn't bring herself to care enough to.
Today, however, she wanted to look good, to turn heads. Well, one head specifically, topped with raven hair.
The thought of Sebastian sent a flutter through her chest. She lowered the tube of lip tint she'd been applying onto the bathroom counter, breathing in deeply through her nose.
"Chill out," she told her reflection before reaching for her deodorant again. "Why the hell am I so sweaty?"
She blamed it on the weather, and definitely not on the anticipation of seeing Sebastian again.
Wiping her palms on the jeans she'd settled for, she attempted to open the mascara again, having to only try twice before the cap came loose. She leaned closer to the mirror, her mouth opening automatically as she ran the brush up the length of her eyelashes.
A knock sounded at the door, and she flinched.
"Shit!" Lyra hissed, her left eye watering at the painful poke of the bristles.
With a wadded up piece of toilet paper held underneath her eye, she padded over toward the door. As expected, Harvey and Estelle stood waiting on the other side, donned in matching shirts with the GOBLIN DESTROYER logo displayed in a chaotic, cracked font. Their welcoming, bright grins simultaneously fell.
"Are you okay?"
"Why are you crying?"
Lyra shuffled to the side, allowing them past. "I'm not crying. Just jabbed myself in the eye with my mascara."
With a hint of a smile, Estelle teased, "It's supposed to go on your lashes, silly. Not in your eye."
"Oh, that's what I was doing wrong," Lyra shot back, her own lips pulling into a curl. "And here I was thinking I should try eating it next."
Estelle laughed and began to wander about the apartment, her gaze stalling on places that seemed to spur memories: the far corner below the window where Harvey's shortwave radio setup once sat that was now cluttered with moving boxes, the couch that served as Lyra's clothing pile holder, the unmade bed, which Lyra forced herself not to think about. Her smile didn't fade, but there was a soft melancholy glimmer behind her eyes.
"It's been a while since I was here last," she murmured and clasped her hands behind her back. She peered to Harvey. "Remember that first night I stayed here, when you invited me over for dinner?"
Harvey chuckled, his fingertips dancing along the planes of her hair before he settled a hand on her shoulder. "How could I forget? I'd been so anxious that I'd completely forgotten that I had no way to actually prepare a homemade meal here."
She turned to face him, snaking her arms around his neck. "That pizza we ended up ordering from the saloon was the best pizza I've ever had," she told him before pressing her lips against his.
Deciding it best to give them their personal space, Lyra retreated back to the bathroom to finish applying her makeup. She'd settled on a simple style, nothing too flashy, but an apparent effort. She gathered her hair up once again to tie it back, but stopped, releasing it and slipping the hair tie onto her wrist. They'd be late to the bus stop if she kept messing with her hair, and she didn't need the guilt of that sitting on her chest as well.
"Ready!" she announced, rejoining the couple.
Estelle assessed her, her narrowed eyes scanning up and down, and pursed her lips with a wolf whistle. "Look at you! Sebastian will definitely be checking you out all night."
Lyra's face flushed and she could feel the tips of her ears warming. "That's not — I don't — He'll be too busy playing," she stammered. "Besides, I don't really care if he notices me or not." Her hands found the hem of her sleeve, her fingertips fidgeting with the black lace as she looked everywhere but at Estelle.
"Being bad at lying must run in your family." With a shrug, Estelle added, "Well, even if you don't care, I'm positive he'll end up scoping you out. That guy is so into you."
"Honey," came Harvey's low mutter, a small warning that made Lyra think the two of them had talked about this in private.
"What?" she replied as she held her hands up innocently. "You saw how he looked at her the other day, Harv."
"He's not into me," Lyra insisted. She could feel the beat of her heart slamming in her chest. "He's just really nice."
Estelle gave her a leveled look. "Sure, Seb's nice, but not that nice."
Something about that roused a strange sort of flame in Lyra, a sudden urge to defend Sebastian. It dissipated immediately, though, at Estelle's next words.
"Like I told you before, he's a good guy, but it usually takes him some time to warm up to strangers. A long time. I mean, it took him half a year to remember my name and another half to acknowledge that he actually knew me. But with you…" She sighed dreamily. "It's cute, really. He's a smitten kitten."
Sebastian, a smitten kitten? Because of her? The thought of it was so absurd that she couldn't help but giggle at it. Sebastian was cool. He played in a band, rode a motorcycle, and somehow made smoking cigarettes seem attractive. There was a chest full of comics and a sword hanging on the wall in his bedroom. He had a voice made of rich velvet and a smile that made her feel vaguely lightheaded.
And Lyra was… Lyra. An alcoholic college drop-out who worked a soul-sucking job and whose only real talent was throwing some paint on a canvas, hoping it made a discernible shape, and calling it art. She didn't have a car, she could barely afford to keep her shitty apartment, and she found herself severely lacking in swords on her bedroom wall.
Sebastian was so far out of her league that she began to wonder if Estelle's eyesight was just as bad as Harvey's. Maybe that was something the pair bonded over as well.
Lyra snagged her sunglasses from the kitchen counter, settling them onto her face. "Well, if we're all done being delusional, we should get a move on before the bus leaves without us."
~ ~ ~
A boisterous, lively crowd had already thronged the bus stop by the time they arrived. Lyra recognized a few of the faces: Haley with her camera secured in her hands, Emily chatting with Haley, Maru, Robin, and Vincent, who approached an older woman with a wiggling worm on the tip of a stick.
"Look, Mom! A caterpillar!"
"Vincent, put that poor thing back where you found it."
Estelle lifted herself onto her toes, scanning the mass. "She's late again?" she murmured, frowning.
"Who?" Lyra inquired as she tore her attention away from the way Vincent dejectedly dragged his feet back to the bush he'd kidnapped the caterpillar from.
"Pam, our bus driver. She should be loading everybody up by now."
Harvey glanced at his watch. "Give her some time," he suggested, his other hand idly rubbing soothing circles onto Estelle's back. "She's only five minutes late. Besides, Penny is here. She wouldn't be if something were wrong."
Even so, Estelle nibbled at her bottom lip as she returned the waves of some of the townsfolk who looked their way, her head constantly on a swivel toward the path that led into town. Meanwhile, Lyra busied herself with staring at a man with the most gorgeously flowing ember hair she'd ever seen. Grateful that she'd remembered to bring her sunglasses to partially shield her gawking, she wondered what sort of mystical force drew so many redheads to Pelican Town.
If I moved here, she thought, would I have to dye my hair to fit in?
The nagging, chastising beast inside her began to open its maw, readied to berate her for having such a stupid thought. She could never move here and away from the city; Griffin would expect her to be just where he'd left her and—
"Oh, thank Yoba," Estelle breathed, pressing a hand to her chest. "There she is."
"I'm coming, I'm coming!" the approaching woman shouted, her words laced with a rattling wheeze. She waved a hand through the air, the afternoon sunlight glinting off the key ring she held.
Pam strode past Lyra, nearly knocking into her. A heady scent of ale and sweat trailed after her, and Lyra turned to Harvey, embarrassed at the fact that her first concern was that if the venue they were heading to had an open bar.
She voiced her second concern in a hushed whisper, "That's the bus driver?"
"The one and only," Harvey murmured back, "unfortunately."
That couldn't be right. Lyra definitely would have remembered if the bus driver who had driven her into Pelican Town reeked of booze. The confusion must have been evident on her face.
"Pam only drives as far as Zuzu City," Harvey explained, shuffling behind her as the gathering began to form a line to board the bus. "When she shows up for her shifts, that is."
Not that she'd ever driven while drunk — the lack of a car ensured that — but she felt a bit hypocritical as she asked, "And we're all okay with this? Letting this lady who's clearly been hitting the bottle today drive a giant bus full of people?"
"I'm sure she's sobered up," Estelle piped up. "Pam has an impeccable driving record."
"So far," Lyra said under her breath, inching forward as Emily practically danced up the stairs of the bus.
The closer she got to the door, watching Pam wave everyone through, the more her stomach clenched into tight knots. She fought back a shiver as a bead of sweat slithered its way down her back. Maybe this was some divine karmic consequence for all the terrible things she'd done in her life. An ironic twist of fate, to die in a crash caused by the one substance that brought her a backhanded comfort during her lowest point in life.
"You're new," Pam stated as Lyra placed her foot on the first bus stair.
She took this chance to really look at Pam, from the vibrant magenta of her eyeshadow to the wild curls of her honey hair. Her eyes seemed clear enough; they didn't have that heavy glaze of someone who was plastered.
Swallowing her relief, Lyra replied, "Oh, yeah, I'm Doct—"
"Keep it moving," Pam snapped, giving her a light push between her shoulder blades. "We're already running late."
Lyra stumbled up the rest of the stairs with a shocked squeak and made to turn to tell Pam that if they were late, she was the reason why.
"Lyra!"
Maru waved her over, sitting in a seat near the back of the bus. Lyra's gaze flicked to Estelle, who had already perched herself toward the front, and assumed she and Harvey would be sitting together.
"I feel like it's been forever since I've seen you," Maru commented as Lyra joined her on the bench seat. "I came in to work for a few hours this morning and I thought you'd come down while I was there."
Maru didn't seem like the type to judge, so Lyra explained as she pushed her sunglasses to the top of her head, "I, um, got my hands on some comics I've been looking for, so that sort of took over my entire morning."
"Oh, that's nice! My brother reads comics, but I don't know—"
The bus lurched with a deep hiss and Lyra grabbed onto the back of the seat in front of her, her grip adding a new small crack in the faded navy faux leather.
"It has its quirks," Maru said with an awkward smile, "but it hasn't broken down in a long time."
"That's great," was all Lyra could manage to say through the sudden panicked buzzing in her brain.
I am definitely going to die on this bus.
Fortunately for Lyra, Maru was a talker and — whether she knew it or not — did a fantastic job at distracting her each time the brakes squealed with an abrupt stop, or Pam hit a painful pothole, or when Lyra was absolutely sure that they were traveling well above the speed limit. Maru told her of all the projects she was working on, and although most of the terms she used went completely over Lyra's head, Lyra found her fascinating. She nodded along politely and chimed in when she could to ask what an angle grinder was or to throw in her inexperienced opinion of the handling differences between aluminum and steel.
Maru was incredibly intelligent, Lyra realized, and there was something familiar about her that she couldn't quite put her finger on.
While listening to Maru describe a new robot prototype she'd spent the past week designing, Lyra couldn't help but eavesdrop on the conversation happening behind them where Robin and Vincent's mother sat.
"I hope there's a good turnout this time. Sam was so disappointed that only a handful of people came to the last show."
"Oh, poor Sam. Seb didn't come out of his room for two days after that show. Said he was working on a tight contract deadline when we finally did see him again, but I think he was a little upset about it too."
"Is he still planning to…?"
Robin sighed. "He says he is. I wish he wouldn't, but who am I to try to persuade him not to, Jodi? I did the exact same thing after I married Demetrius."
"That's big of you. I know it's hard. I couldn't imagine what I'd do if Sam decided to take that route, how I'd explain it to Vincent. He loves his brother."
"And especially considering what he's been through with Kent."
Maru's voice cut through the space between the two of them, yanking Lyra back to their shared seat. "So, what do you think?"
"Um, I think…"
You nosy idiot, her mind screeched. Why can't you just mind your own business?
"I think," Lyra repeated with a hint more confidence, "that it's a great idea." A safe response, she assumed, since every idea that had come from Maru's mouth had been great.
Maru nodded, pure determination gracing her features. "Aquatic it is. I've never attempted something like that before, so it'll be nice to test what I can really do."
From there, their conversation focused on more common topics, things Lyra could better relate to. She learned that one of Maru's guilty pleasures was tuning into one of the reality shows her mother raved about, and Lyra told her between a series of giggles that she'd watched them as a kid, so when she grew up and stepped foot into the real world, she was surprised to learn that life wasn't as dramatic as those shows made it out to be.
They talked about men and Maru's lack of interest in them when Lyra asked if she had a boyfriend. "No, I'm single," Maru explained. "Men aren't really…" Behind her glasses, her gaze found the ceiling of the bus. "Let's just say I haven't found the right woman yet. And what about you? Do you have anyone waiting for you back home?"
Did she have someone? Not really, not at the moment. She'd screwed that up months ago. Was he waiting for her back home? She thought of what she'd do if she returned to her apartment, opened the door, and found Griffin waiting there for her on the couch. She pictured his cocky grin, the way his eyes narrowed as if he were looking straight through her. Her mouth went dry.
"Super single," Lyra admitted, which was the first time she'd used that word to label herself since he left.
"You should meet my brother. I think you two would get on well. You both like comics, and I'd love it if he met a nice girl like you. I think our parents would, too."
"Oh, I — I don't know. I'm not really girlfriend material right now." Had she ever been? "Besides, I'm leaving in a few days anyway."
Three days, to be exact. The reminder sat like a jagged stone in her stomach. Three days until she had to say goodbye to this sleepy little coastal town, to Harvey and Estelle, to Sebastian, though she was already planning on saying her goodbye to him tonight, if she could manage to catch him. There would be no other reason for her to see him before her departure, and it would be rude not to say anything at all.
Alongside her goodbye, she'd decided she was going to thank him as well for so many things: his interest in her silly little painting, the sunglasses, for offering to allow her to lounge at his house while he worked on his bike. Sebastian was kind and patient and as intriguing as Maru, if not more so. Lyra would miss him, which struck her as odd because she hadn't missed anyone aside from Griffin and Harvey, one of whom she'd known for years, the other her entire life. She'd only known of Sebastian's existence for less than a week.
"I hope you'll come back someday," Maru told her, her eyes wide and clear with hope.
The sight of it tugged at Lyra's heart. "Yeah," she replied. "Me too."
Outside, the rolling hills and vivid pastures yielded to cracked concrete, blinking traffic lights, and the blaring honks of cars being impatiently driven. The smell of fried food permeated the inside of the bus, and Lyra's stomach rumbled as she peered past Maru and through the window, watching a hotdog street vendor go by. Pam turned a sharp corner and a sign came into view, snagging Lyra's attention.
Most of the lettering had been faded with time and sun exposure, but she could still make out the majority of the advertisement for the Zuzu Apartments.
"Cheap rooms," she muttered to herself, then thought, How cheap is Zuzu City cheap?
They passed through intersection after intersection, weaving their way deeper into the maze of the city. Imposing skyscrapers rose to meet them, their architectural diversity drawing Lyra in and holding her tight. Some buildings were windowless — simply grey structures that piqued her curiosity and left her wondering what they had been built for, while others left nothing to the imagination; she could see office workers milling about, their arms full of folders and paperwork, or hunched over miserably in front of their computers.
Zuzu City was huge, much larger than Meadow Wood City. Lyra felt incredibly small here, an ant falling into formation with the rest of the bustling colony, and a part of her relished in it. Aside from the handful of people she'd met in Pelican Town, nobody here recognized her. She was just as faceless as the stranger hobbling down the sidewalk.
A spark lit inside her. She could start over here, find a job — there were a plethora of "help wanted" signs hanging in windows — and reinvent herself, figure out who she was again. She wouldn't even need a car; bulky busses and taxis were abundant, and there were even tramway tracks built into the ground.
And she'd only be an hour away from Pelican Town.
Don't be stupid.
Even if her mind couldn't seem to fully wrap itself around the idea, Lyra couldn't let go of the trickle of hope that had found its way to her.
The bus chugged to stop and an electric energy began to charge about the passengers. Vincent let out an excited holler from somewhere behind where Lyra sat, and she heard Jodi respond with a sharp shush. She caught sight of Estelle turning to beam at Harvey, whose mustache curved with his smile. Even Lyra couldn't help but grin as the soles of her feet bounced on the metal floor. She wanted to get off this bus and stretch her legs and track down the nearest bar to chug a beer before the show started.
She caught up with her cousin and Estelle as she hopped off the last stair of the bus and lifted her arms over her head in a great stretch. "We survived!" she announced with a laugh.
"The hell's that supposed to mean?" Pam snapped from the driver's seat.
Lyra pretended not to hear her, though she was sure everyone else did, and took in the sight before them. Pam had dropped them off at an empty lot next to a brick-and-mortar pizza shop. Haphazardly thrown pieces of rubbish sat in indents of overgrown patches of grass. An old tire served as a flowerbed for tall stems of weeds that looked sharp to the touch. Erected against the wall of the shop, a concrete-base stage stood proudly, lighting fixtures in the shapes of orbs hanging from the wooden overhead canopy.
A drum set, an electric guitar nestled in its stand, and a keyboard paired with an electric piano had been set up on the stage, though their players were nowhere to be found. The crowd, however, was growing by the minute; city dwellers flocked from nearby alleyways, some parked on the side of the street to wander toward the stage, and employees from neighboring businesses opened their windows to perch themselves on the sills to get a better look.
Lyra squeezed in closer to Harvey and Estelle, noticing Maru had disappeared into the mass at some point. After the day they'd had yesterday, she was hesitant to ask Harvey about places she could sneak away to find a drink. She observed the others around them and grimaced; not a plastic cup or a metal flask filled with alcohol in sight.
Estelle gasped, her hand finding Lyra's arm and gripping hard. "There they are!" she chirped. "Oh, Lyra, you're going to love this!"
Raising herself onto her toes, Lyra watched as Sam, Abigail, and Sebastian rounded the corner of the pizza shop, strolled up the rickety stairs onto the stage, and took their places behind their respective instruments. Sam visibly trembled as he lifted the strap of his guitar over his head and closed the distance between himself and the microphone stand. Abigail stared out into the crowd like a deer in headlights, her chest rising and falling with heaving breaths.
And Sebastian…
Lyra swallowed thickly as she took him in. Even through the shading of her sunglasses, she could see that his skin was paler than it had been in the time she'd known him. Like Abigail, his eyes were wide and frantic as they darted about the audience, desperately searching, and like Sam, his hands shook as he adjusted the smaller microphone attached to the keyboard.
The lights flickered on, not illuminating much in the steadily waning daylight. Recognition flashed across Sebastian's face as his gaze found Lyra and his shoulders dropped an inch as she lifted her hand in an acknowledging wave. Their smiles mirrored each other's.
Estelle was right; she was going to love this.