The sun had barely risen when Jovienne sat down at her desk, the soft morning light spilling through the floor-to-ceiling windows of her home office. Her laptop was already open, and her workspace was meticulously organized: her notebook lay to her right, filled with scribbles and sketches from her brainstorming session the night before. A cup of coffee sat steaming within arm's reach, its aroma mingling with the faint scent of jasmine from the candle she'd lit.

Her calendar was packed with deadlines. Between working on film scores, overseeing an indie artist's debut album, and contributing to an ad campaign for a high-profile brand, her plate was already overflowing. She'd been working for hours, headphones on, immersed in her world of production notes and audio edits. The previous day at the studio had been exhausting, but it left her brimming with ideas she couldn't ignore. Despite her initial disdain for Noah and his band's current demos, there was something undeniably challenging—and thrilling—about reshaping their sound.

The faint creak of a door broke the quiet hum of her workspace, pulling Jovienne from her thoughts. She turned, startled, to see Louis leaning casually against the doorframe, his arms crossed over his chest. His hair was a messy tangle, evidence of a restless night or simply his reluctance to greet the morning. A shadow of concern flickered in his groggy eyes.

"You've been up since before dawn again, haven't you?" he asked, his voice husky with sleep yet laced with a familiar note of reproach.

Jovienne allowed herself a faint smile, tugging her headphones down to rest around her neck. She leaned back in her chair, rolling her shoulders to ease the stiffness. "You know me. Once I get an idea, I can't let it sit."

Louis shook his head with a sigh, pushing off the doorframe. His bare feet padded softly against the hardwood floor as he made his way to her desk. His sharp eyes swept across the chaotic array of notes, discarded drafts, and the glowing screen displaying intricate audio waveforms. The mess was as much a reflection of her thoughts as her dedication.

"So," he began, resting a hand on the back of her chair, "what's got you so obsessed this time?"

Jovienne reached for her coffee, using the motion as a buffer. "Well," she started, her tone deliberately evasive as she took a long sip.

Louis narrowed his eyes, his lips quirking upward in mild suspicion. He pulled the chair from the corner and settled into it, his gaze never leaving hers. "What is it, Jovi? You're acting cagey."

She hesitated, her fingers instinctively brushing against the edge of her notebook. Normally, she wouldn't keep anything from him. Louis had been her confidant for a while, her anchor when her world spun too fast. He knew her better than anyone—better than she often knew herself. But this was different.

"I want to tell you something," she said at last, setting her coffee cup down deliberately, as if anchoring herself for what was to come.

Louis straightened in his seat, his concern deepening. "I'm listening," he said, his tone shifting to something more serious.

Jovienne inhaled deeply, her fingers tapping a soft rhythm against the desk. Finally, she met his gaze. "I accepted Matt's offer," she said, her voice steady but carrying an undercurrent of tension.

Louis blinked, clearly caught off guard. His expression shifted quickly from disbelief to something closer to frustration. "Are you serious about that?"

She nodded, bracing herself for what she knew was coming.

"You're kidding me," he said, leaning back in his chair, his arms crossing defensively. "We talked about this a few days ago. You said you weren't going to accept it."

"I know what I said," Jovienne replied, her tone defensive now. "But something in me shifted. It felt...right."

"Right?" he repeated incredulously. "Jo, you've already got, what, five projects going? And now you're diving into another one? This is insane."

"I can handle it, Lou," she countered, her voice firm. "I've handled worse."

"That doesn't mean you should," he snapped, his frustration bubbling to the surface. He leaned forward, his elbows resting on his knees, his gaze piercing. "You're already running on fumes, Jo. Don't pretend like you're invincible."

"Louis—"

"No, hear me out," he interrupted, his voice softening but retaining its edge. "I get it. I know how much your work means to you. I've seen how driven you are, how you pour yourself into everything you do. And I admire that. But it's not just about the work anymore. You're wearing yourself down."

"I can take care of myself," she insisted, though her voice lacked conviction.

"I know you think you can," he said gently, his expression softening. "But you don't. When was the last time you slept through the night? Or took a day—just one day—to rest and not think about work? Fuck it, when was the last time you had a normal meal ?"

She opened her mouth to argue but quickly closed it. He was right, and they both knew it.

"Exactly," Louis said, his tone gentler now. He reached out, his hand brushing against hers on the desk. "I'm not asking you to give up on your projects. You know I'll support you, no matter what. But you're taking on too much, all at once. And I'm scared, Jovi. Scared that one day you're going to burn out, and I won't be able to pull you back."

His words struck a chord, and she looked away, her gaze fixed on a coffee stain on her desk.

"You mean the world to me, Jovi," he continued, his voice low but earnest. "I don't say it enough, but I hope you know how much I care. That's why I'm worried. I'm not trying to control you; I just want you to take care of yourself."

Her throat tightened, and she nodded faintly. "I'll be fine, Louis. I promise."

"Fine isn't good enough," he said quietly, leaning back in his chair but not taking his eyes off her. "You deserve more than just scraping by."

She sighed, rubbing her temples. The weight of his concern pressed down on her, mingling with her own self-doubt.

"I'll think about it," she said finally, her voice barely above a whisper.

"That's all I ask," Louis replied, his expression softening into something resembling a smile. He stood, resting a hand lightly on her shoulder. "Just...don't forget to eat something today, okay? And maybe step outside for some air. The world won't end if you take a break."

"Yes, Dad," she teased, rolling her eyes.

"And I hope you're not doing it yourself prove something to Noah."

She shook her head, "It's not about proving anything to him," she said quietly. "It's about me. I need to do this—for myself. To show that I can take something as rough as their sound and turn it into something extraordinary."

Louis sighed, leaning back in his chair. "I get it. I really do. But don't let him—or this project—consume you. And don't forget who you are in the process."

"I won't," she promised, her voice steady.

"Good," he said, standing up and placing a hand on her shoulder. "Because if he pushes you too far, I won't hold back. You know that, right?"

She chuckled softly, though his protective tone warmed her. "I know. And I appreciate it. But trust me, Louis—I've got this."

Louis laughed, shaking his head. "You're unbelievable, Jovienne."

"That's why you love me," she teased, a playful glint in her eye.

He leaned forward, resting his elbows on the desk. "So, what's the plan? Are you going to turn their world upside down, or are you just going to make Noah's life a living hell?"

"Both," she said with a smirk, reaching for her coffee.

Louis chuckled, but his expression softened as he watched her. "You know, this is going to be a lot of work. And if anyone can handle it, it's you."

.

"Noah, the pre-chorus needs to breathe," Jovienne insisted, her voice firm as she leaned over the console, pointing at the marked section of the track on the screen. "You're overcrowding it with too many lyrics. It's suffocating the melody."

Noah stood a few feet away, arms crossed and his jaw tight. "And I'm telling you, the pre-chorus works because it's intense. It's supposed to pull you under, not gently lead you in."

"You mean it's supposed to drown the listener?" she snapped back, shooting him a look.

He rolled his eyes, taking a step closer. "You're so dramatic. It's music, Jovienne. Not everything needs to be dissected into perfect little parts. The chaos is the point."

"It's not chaos," she shot back, her voice rising slightly. "It's a mess. There's a difference, Noah."

"Alright, alright," Matt interrupted from the couch, where he had been lazily watching these two. "Before you two start throwing things, how about we just try her way and see what it sounds like?"

Jovienne turned toward Matt with a grateful nod. "Thank you, Matt. At least someone here understands the concept of collaboration."

"Yeah, yeah," Noah muttered under his breath, moving to the console. "Let's hear this 'brilliant' idea, then."

Jovienne ignored his tone and adjusted the track, muting the extra line she'd suggested cutting. Her fingers moved quickly over the controls, a mix of precision and familiarity as she brought the updated version to life. The room fell silent as the new mix played through the speakers. The change was subtle but impactful, allowing the melody to breathe and the transition to feel smoother.

When it ended, Jovienne turned to face Noah, arching an eyebrow. "Well?"

Noah's lips pressed into a thin line as he looked at the screen, refusing to meet her gaze. "Well... not terrible."

She smirked, crossing her arms. "High praise coming from you."

"Don't let it go to your head," he said dryly, though the corner of his mouth twitched with reluctant amusement.

"Too late," she quipped, spinning her chair back toward the console. "Now, let's talk about the bridge—"

"Woah, woah, woah," Jolly cut in from the corner, lifting his hands. "Can we not redo the whole damn song today? We've been at this for hours."

"It's called perfecting the craft, Jolly," Jovienne replied without looking up, her tone saccharine.

"It's called running us into the ground," Nick muttered, standing and stretching. "I need coffee. Or a nap. Maybe both."

"Agreed," Jolly added, heading toward the kitchenette in the back of the studio.

"You're all weak," Jovienne teased, leaning back in her chair with a satisfied smirk. Her arms folded across her chest as the band collectively groaned, heading in different directions. "Fine, take ten. But we're finishing this today. No excuses."

Her tone left no room for debate, and one by one, the band members filtered out—Nick muttering something about coffee, Jolly heading for the kitchenette, and Nicolas simply shaking his head as he stretched his arms. The room quieted quickly, the faint hum of the equipment filling the air as Jovienne turned her attention back to the console.

She barely had time to settle when she felt the weight of someone's presence behind her. The faint scent of leather and cedar hit her before Noah's voice broke the silence. "You really know how to clear a room," he said, his tone low and amused.

Without turning, she adjusted a knob on the console, her focus still on the screen. "You're still here," she quipped. "Guess I'm losing my touch."

Noah's laugh was quiet, almost under his breath, as he leaned over her chair, resting a hand on the console beside hers. His other hand slipped casually into his pocket. "You ever take a break, Fitzroy ? Or is this relentless drive of yours just... your permanent state?"

Her fingers paused mid-movement, but she didn't look at him immediately. Instead, she reached for her coffee, the mug warm against her palm. "I'll rest when the song is perfect," she said, her voice even but resolute. She took a long sip before continuing, "Not a second before."

Noah's gaze lingered on her, his dark eyes tracing the curve of her profile as she finally turned to look at him. His smirk deepened, soft but teasing. "You're exhausting," he said, though his words lacked any real edge. In fact, there was something almost fond in his tone, though he'd never admit it outright.

"And yet, you keep showing up," she replied, tilting her head slightly as she met his gaze. Her voice held the same sharpness it always did, but her lips twitched at the corners, betraying her amusement. She raised her mug again, watching him over the rim as she took another sip.

"Maybe I like a challenge," he said, his smirk widening into something more devilish, his voice dropping a fraction lower.

"Or maybe," she countered, setting her mug down with deliberate slowness, "you just like being difficult."

He chuckled softly, his eyes glinting with that familiar, infuriating confidence. "Touché," he admitted, straightening. His hand slipped from the console, and he pushed off her chair, shoving both hands into his jacket pockets.

The silence between them was palpable, though it wasn't uncomfortable. Jovienne returned her attention to the screen, her fingers ghosting over the controls, but she could still feel Noah's eyes on her. It wasn't unusual—he had a habit of watching her work, either out of curiosity or sheer stubbornness. But today, it felt different, heavier somehow.

"What?" she finally asked, not looking up from the display.

"Nothing," he replied quickly, though his tone suggested the opposite.

She turned her head slightly, one eyebrow arched in challenge. "That's a lie."

His smirk was back in full force. "I'm just wondering how someone as bossy as you manages to keep people from quitting on you."

"Because I'm right," she said without missing a beat, leaning back in her chair. "And deep down, you all know it."

Noah let out a short laugh, shaking his head as he looked away. "You're something else, Jovi."

"Flattery will get you nowhere, Sebastian," she said, though there was a lightness in her voice now.

"Good thing I wasn't trying to flatter you," he shot back, stepping toward the door. But just before he exited, he glanced back, his gaze lingering for a moment longer than necessary.

Jovienne, ever perceptive, caught the look and tilted her head slightly. "Staring is rude, you know."

"Just making sure you don't overwork yourself into oblivion," he replied smoothly. "Someone's got to keep you in check."

She let out a soft laugh, turning her attention back to the console. "Good luck with that."

He didn't respond, just gave a small shake of his head before disappearing down the hall. The door clicked shut, leaving her alone with the quiet hum of the equipment and the faint warmth of his lingering presence.

When the band regrouped, the teasing between Jovienne and Noah showed no signs of waning. The studio buzzed with energy as everyone settled back into their respective spots, coffee cups in hand and snacks scattered on the console. Jovienne stood at the helm, her headphones perched around her neck, adjusting levels on the soundboard with a precision that bordered on obsessive.

"All right," she said, clapping her hands to get their attention. "Harmonies next. Jolly, you're up first. Let's nail this."

Jolly groaned but stepped into the recording booth. "Slave driver," he muttered, earning a smirk from Jovienne.

"I heard that," she replied over the intercom, her tone laced with mock sternness. "Now, give me something good, Karlsson."

Jolly chuckled but got into position, adjusting the headphones over his ears. His voice filled the studio moments later, smooth and steady as it wove through the track. The others leaned in, listening intently from the control room. Jovienne's focus was razor-sharp as she tweaked the knobs, her pencil tapping against her notebook.

When he finished, he turned to the glass with an expectant look. "How's that?"

"Solid," Jovienne said, not looking up as she adjusted the playback. "But let's push the second harmony up a bit. I want it to feel more ethereal."

"Ethereal," Jolly repeated, grinning. "Big word for someone who called us 'tone-deaf monkeys' last week."

"You were tone-deaf last week," she replied sweetly, earning a round of laughter from Nick and Nicolas. Even Matt, who had been quietly observing from the corner, shook his head with a smile.

"Less talking, more working, Karlsson," Noah interjected, leaning over to the mic. His dark eyes glinted with amusement as he shot Jolly a pointed look.

Jolly raised his hands in mock surrender. "Bossy today, aren't we, Sebastian?"

"Always," Noah shot back without missing a beat, earning a snort from Nick .

Jovienne smirked, cutting into the banter. "Can we focus, gentlemen? Or do I need to start deducting break time?"

"God forbid," Nicolas muttered, earning a glare from her. But he didn't argue further and headed into the booth when Nick's part was done.

As the hours stretched on, the studio became a whirlwind of work, banter, and snarky remarks. Jovienne found herself falling into an easy rhythm with the band despite Noah's constant interruptions. The dynamic felt almost natural—her sharp critiques balanced by their playful defiance. Matt occasionally chimed in, his observations thoughtful but brief, letting Jovienne take the lead.

By evening, significant progress had been made. The harmonies were layered perfectly, and the track was beginning to take shape. Jovienne leaned back in her chair, her notebook resting in her lap, watching as Noah prepared for his final vocal take.

"You ready, or do you need another five minutes to boost your ego?" she teased, tapping her pencil against her notebook.

"Funny," Noah replied dryly, stepping into the booth. His tone was laced with sarcasm, but the way his lips twitched suggested he enjoyed her digs more than he let on.

He adjusted the mic and slipped on the headphones. The room fell silent as he began, his voice cutting through the air with raw intensity. Even through the glass, his expression was striking—his brows furrowed, his jaw tight, as if every word pulled something visceral from within him. Jovienne found herself leaning forward slightly, her pencil frozen mid-tap.

By the time he finished, the room was heavy with silence, the final note lingering in the air. Nicolas let out a low whistle, breaking the spell. "Damn. That's the one."

"Agreed," Jolly said, leaning back in his chair with a nod. "That hit."

Jovienne hit playback, the track filling the studio as they all listened. She made a few minor tweaks before turning to Noah, who was stepping out of the booth and heading toward her. "Not bad, Sebastian," she said casually, though the corner of her mouth betrayed a hint of a smile.

Noah arched a brow, his hands sliding into his jacket pockets as he approached. "Not bad? That was brilliant, and you know it."

"Fine," she conceded, setting her notebook down. "It was decent."

"Decent?" he echoed, his tone mock-offended. "You're impossible."

"So I've been told," she replied, gathering her notes and ignoring the way his gaze lingered on her.

"You two bicker like siblings," Matt cut in, his voice tinged with amusement. He leaned against the console, arms crossed as he watched their exchange.

"Siblings?" Noah repeated with a scoff, shaking his head. "Please. I'd never put up with a sibling this relentless."

"Good thing I'm not your sibling," Jovienne quipped, not missing a beat.

"Lucky me," Noah said, the smirk creeping back onto his face.

Jovienne rolled her eyes, turning her attention back to the console. But she could still feel Noah standing there, his presence as persistent as ever. "Don't you have somewhere else to be?" she asked, not bothering to look up.

"Not until this track is done," he replied smoothly. "And I'd hate to leave you unsupervised. Who knows what chaos you'd cause?"

"Chaos is half the fun," she said lightly, though her lips curved upward despite herself.

Matt chuckled, pushing off the console. "All right, children, let's wrap this up. It's been a long day, and some of us actually value sleep."

"Sleep is overrated," Jovienne muttered, though her tone had softened. She glanced around as the others began packing up, the exhaustion finally catching up with her.

Noah lingered as always, leaning against the console and watching her as she meticulously organized her things. "You know, for someone who's so critical, you didn't sound half as annoyed today," he said, his voice low.

"Don't get used to it," she replied, not looking up from her notebook.

"I wouldn't dream of it," he said, his tone teasing but softer than before.

When she finally glanced up, their eyes met, and for a fleeting moment, the banter fell away. There was something unspoken in his gaze, a flicker of warmth that caught her off guard. She quickly broke the connection, returning her focus to her notebook.

"You're staring, Sebastian," she said, her voice steady despite the faint flutter in her chest.

"Just making sure you don't overthink yourself into a coma," he replied with a smirk, pushing off the console.

"Goodnight, Jovi," he called over his shoulder as he headed toward the door.

"Goodnight, Noah," she replied, her tone casual but her thoughts anything but as the door clicked shut behind him.