When we stepon stage for the final time asElectric Wounds, it feels like everything we’ve been waiting for. And everything we’ve feared. The lights render me sightless momentarily as they flare to life, leaving only the sensation of the crowd’s screams thrumming through my chest. A mixture of adrenaline and nostalgia course through me.
This is it.
The last time we’ll play under this name. The last time we’ll be this version of ourselves.
Jax walks out with his familiar swagger, but I catch the tense set of his shoulders. He’s come a long way, but there’s still an edge to him, like he’s holding himself together with sheer determination.
Then the first note rings out, and his voice fills the arena, raw and emotional, pulling us all into the moment. We give it everything. Every chord, every beat, every lyric feels like a farewell and a declaration all at once.
Enzo’s bass lines pulse through the floor, while Dylan’sdrums thunder like a living being, driving us forward. My fingers move instinctively over the strings, the music flowing through me like second nature.
Our fans sing along with us; the audience swaying to our words. In this moment, they feel what we feel, their energy amplifying ours. This is why we started. This is why, despite everything, this band matters. This is why someday, when everything settles, we will continue.
When Jax calls Lily on stage to sing, cheers echo off the walls. They already know to expect her. It’s all over the internet in videos, on blogs, in the news. Everyone is obsessed with Lily. Which I can understand because I am too.
She steps out with that quiet confidence she’s grown into, like she has done this a thousand times instead of just a few. Her voice soars over the music, blending with Jax’s in a way that feels seamless, natural. Watching her command the stage, I can’t help but feel proud—of her, of us, of everything we’ve survived to get here.
We don’t leave until we perform two encores. They know, just like we do, that this is a goodbye in some way. When the final chord echoes through the arena and the lights dim, the applause surges, louder than ever. We wave our goodbyes, leaving the stage drenched in sweat but smiling through the exhaustion.
Backstage, there’s a strange quiet between us, not heavy or sad, but full.
We’ve done it. We’ve given everything.
On the bus, our makeshift pile of mattresses is waiting, and we collapse into it like we’ve just run a marathon. The cushions and blankets are a mess, but they’ve become our new normal. Nobody says much as we settle in, limbstangled and breaths steadying. It’s the kind of silence that speaks volumes.
The moment my head hits the pillow, exhaustion washes over me. My body feels drained, but there’s a deep sense of peace in that.
Dylan mutters something half-asleep, and Lily shifts closer, her warmth a quiet reassurance. Jax lies with his arm over his eyes, already out cold, his chest rising and falling evenly for the first time in weeks.
We sleep like that, pressed together, finding solace in the nearness of each other. It’s the kind of sleep you only get when there’s nothing left to prove, when you know you’ve given it your all.
I wake to the sound of the bus pulling to a stop, the familiar jolt of the brakes bringing me back to reality. Morning light streams through the windows, painting the sky in shades of purple and pink. The sounds of plane engines echo through us as we stop in the early morning dusk.
We have arrived at the airport. The tour is officially over.
Lily stirs beside me, her hair a tousled mess as she blinks up at me, a sleepy smile tugging at her lips. “We made it,” she whispers, her voice soft.
“Yeah, we did,” I murmur, brushing a hand through my own messy hair.
The others begin to wake, stretching and groaning as the reality of our final destination sets in. Dylan is the first to sit up, cracking his neck with a wince. “I feel like I slept on a bus,” he grumbles with a smile tugging at his lips.
“Weareon a bus, genius,” Enzo fires back, rubbing the back of his neck as he sits up.
The room fills with laughter, easy and warm, cutting through the lingering exhaustion. It’s a good kind of tired, the kind that comes from pouring your heart into something and leaving nothing behind. And knowing that you are going to be better for all the effort that you’ve put in.
As we pack up, pulling random clothing and gear from every corner of the bus. It finally sinks in. We will never board this bus again. It has been my home on and off for so long, and now I’m leaving it behind for the last time.
Jax is quiet as he loads his bag, but there’s a resilience that wasn’t there before. He catches my eye and nods, and I know he’s going to be okay.
Before we leave, Lily pulls out her phone. “We need a picture,” she declares. “One shot of all of you, together with the bus, for the last time.”
We huddle close, arms slung over each other’s shoulders with our dinged up and scratched bus in the background. Lily takes the photo, grinning as she looks at us through the screen.
Then she waves over the driver. “One with all five of us,” she insists.
He raises an eyebrow but obliges, snapping the picture as we press close. I smile despite the bittersweet ache in my chest.
Boarding a plane to Chicago feels surreal. We’ve done this before, ended a tour, but this time, there’s no set destination waiting for us—no label, no deadlines, no pressure. Just freedom. Lily leans into me as the plane takes off, her head resting against my shoulder. I close my eyes, letting her presence and the white noise of the plane lull me to sleep.
