I blinked and looked up at him.
“Huh?”
He grinned, and his hand left my knee to wrap around mine, gently tugging the strand of hair free from my fingers.
“I was scared when it came to the label,” he admitted with a shrug. “They kept taking more and more from us, but they also gave us so much in return that fighting back felt... ungrateful.”
Bodhi leaned forward until his forehead rested against mine.
“I stayed silent, and somewhere along the way, I lost sight of the Noctis I loved. I let them shape us into the version the world wanted, and the music stopped meaning what it used to.” He exhaled slowly. “It just wasn’t fun anymore.”
I threaded my fingers through his and squeezed, saying nothing. Just listening. Quietly supporting.
“The band had a meeting today,” he continued. “Just us. No Clara.”
I lifted my brows. “Really?”
He nodded. “Turns out we all feel the same way. We’re done pretending everything’s fine. We’re going to talk to the label after the tour.”
“A talk?” I echoed.
“Yeah.” His mouth curved. “We’re gonna figure out what we actually want and lay it all out for them.”
I huffed a laugh. “Sounds like a hostage negotiation.”
“Thump said the exact same thing,” he said, amused. “If they won’t meet us halfway, we walk.”
I jerked back slightly. “You’ll what?!”
“We’ll look at other labels,” he said, like the answer was simple. “Riff even floated the idea of going independent.”
“Is that even possible?”
He shrugged. “Apparently. We’ve built something big enough that we don’t need the label the way we used to.”
I smirked and bumped my shoulder against his chest. “Hey,if Taylor Swift can re-record her entire discography, I’m sure Noctis can survive on its own.”
He laughed and kissed my temple. “Thanks for the vote of confidence, Iggy Pop.”
I really looked at him then.
He didn’t seem nervous. If anything, he looked lighter than I’d ever seen him. His shoulders weren’t drawn up around his ears anymore. His eyes were brighter, still tired, still marked by everything he’d been carrying, but no longer guarded. No longer braced for impact.
He looked happier.
And it suited him.
I imagined this was how he’d looked in the early days. Before contracts and expectations. Back when it was just him and Riff and the reckless idea to start a band. When it didn’t matter how many people were listening, only that someone was.
I wrapped my arms around his neck and pulled him in, pressing a soft kiss to his lips. It felt gentler than anything we’d done before. Somehow more intimate than our heavier make-out sessions.
“I’m proud of you, Just Bodhi,” I whispered.
His hand slid to the back of my neck, fingers threading into my hair. The feel of his fingertips against my scalp sent a shiver down my spine.
“I was only brave because of you,” he said.
I smiled.
