"What would you say is the most difficult part about being in a band?"

Nora had no idea where to start, and the question itself wasn't even the main problem. She thought calling her mom and hearing the sound of her voice would grant her some vague clarity and offer up some semblance of a reminder of all things good, bad, and in between. She should have known there was no chance something like that would happen, but she took a risk by trusting that hope could be a powerful thing instead of something often too dangerous for its good.

"I think that question can be answered the same way you would if you were asked what is the best part about being in a band."

"And what answer would that be?"

"You're not alone."

Sometimes being honest in her profession ran the risk of sounding melodramatic. She never actively wanted to sound like the main character of a coming-of-age film—mostly because no one over thirty belonged in the starring role of such films—but she blamed that on writers being acutely adept at crafting such lines that resonated to anyone of any age.

"It's all a balancing act," Nora continued. "Everyone has an opinion and everyone deserves the chance to share theirs. You have to remember to give everyone else the floor while also standing up for your right to do the same. Assuming you're human and flawed like everyone else on the planet, most people fall one of two ways—they push people over or they get pushed over themselves."

"Dare I ask which category you fall into?" Porter asked with a snarky smile. His boldness grew at the same rate as her ability to withstand it.

"Can I get questions that don't need to be asked for five hundred, please?"

They were back where they first started except the courtyard was now hidden under a wide breadth of shadows from a looming storm ready to roll in any time soon. Nora tried not to read too much into it; mother nature couldn't predict the outcome of Roslyn's last interview, nor would she have cared about them. There were far more pressing matters to deal with as far as the end of an age, or the start of a new one, was concerned.

"So, how does Roslyn make it all work?"

Nora wanted to throw up.

Either her bandmates had given him too many hints about their demise or Porter had a secret sixth sense that even he wasn't aware of himself. Otherwise how else would he have known what questions to ask to drill a hole straight into her heart? Or maybe it wasn't a simple game of chance at all. Perhaps Porter was more skilled at deceptively chiseling away toward the truth than she realized.

But then that begged the question of whether the music industry had turned her so cynical she couldn't navigate its world without second-guessing everyone she ever came in contact with, including her bandmates. Including herself.

"We don't," she whispered.

"Pardon?"

"We're not perfect," Nora corrected herself, easily stepping back into place. "When things get tough, like when we don't see eye-to-eye on something and no amount of debating can bring us to a mutually agreed upon solution, we need an outside perspective. Anyone you can get your hands on becomes Switzerland. Sometimes that means Marty yells at us to get our shit together. Sometimes Stevie talks me down from making some huge mistake I'll regret for the rest of my life. Hell, sometimes all we need is Maverick telling us that struggling to rhyme two different languages sparks all the inspiration you could ever need. It can be as easy or as hard as it needs to be, and it's rarely easy to predict which way it'll go when you need it. Writing music can be an incredibly isolating experience, even when you're in a band. But it can also bring you closer to people you wouldn't have met otherwise, and who bring something out of you that could have stayed buried until you die."

If she wanted to, Nora could chart the progression of all their arguments and the way they grew and grew until they exploded into a million pieces. At the beginning of it, she wrote it off as the result of working with friends. It reminded her of how so many people warned about living together with friends and how, no matter how close they were, it could result in them splintering apart. The more you saw a person, the more differences were discovered.

"Has there ever been a time when even Switzerland couldn't help?"

Nora laughed, not bothering to care if it triggered an alarm in Porter's brain. "I'm sure you'll hear about it if there is."

Porter flipped through his notes in search of something.

"There was... something Kinsley and I discussed, and she said it would be okay if I asked the rest of you about it." Whatever page he was looking for, he found it. There were more scribbles on it than probably all of the rest of the pages combined. "She said it was the one moment she realized you would all be together forever. She knew no matter what happened, you would all have each other's back."

Nora knew what he was about to mention before he said it.

Every friendship went through at least one defining moment when its bond was tested. (The lucky ones, like Roslyn, went through multiple tests with vastly different methods.) The passing of Kinsley's sister was the moment.

It wasn't a test directly correlated to Roslyn itself in the sense that they hadn't caused it, but how people and their loved ones reacted to tragedy often displayed the strength of that relationship. While Aimee's death was the result of a terrible accident, it changed a lot of things, including their perspective of their careers and how it affected their lives. Kinsley couldn't even go through the airport to catch a flight back home for the funeral without being hounded by paparazzi who thought they deserved to know everything about what happened. So-called fans screamed and called her names for canceling a string of shows because they didn't know the truth at the time. And even when they found out, they blamed her for not telling them soon enough. It was her fault for not exposing every heartbreaking moment of her life. It was her fault for not finding a way to make it up to them, as if she owed it to them to right the wrong, the wrong being their disappointment, because, of course, she was responsible for her sister's death.

Roslyn almost quit then and there.

Through all of the hardship that came with that loss—most of which were struggles that shouldn't have existed in the first place because, despite their celebrity status, they were still human and deserved their privacy to grieve—Roslyn came together for her.

"Following the death of Aimee St. Clair, a conversation was sparked about the dangers of parasocial relationships and the harm it can cause those in the public eye. Roslyn isn't a stranger to having that discussion, but it took a different turn of certain severity during that particular time, and the band was forced to make a lot of difficult decisions regarding how much of your lives you would keep public, as well as how much you were willing to react to news about yourselves." Nora wanted to laugh given the current circumstance. "What was your biggest takeaway from that experience? And is there anything you would have changed about how you handled it?"

Normally, Nora wouldn't comment on it, especially since they had all agreed a long time ago to let Kinsley guide any conversations regarding her sister's death. But Kinsley gave them all the green light, and Porter wasn't sleazy enough to lie about something like that.

"First and foremost, my heart shattered that day. It took a long time for it to heal. The world lost an incredible person, and she will be forever missed. Beyond just being her beautiful and vibrant self, Aimee St. Clair was one of our biggest supporters and the reason why Roslyn grew to be who we are now. Her memory is the most important factor in all of this." Nora took a deep breath, grateful for the fresh air. Being close to nature in any capacity, even if it was just a courtyard, was beneficial to braving the perilous act of honesty. Being courageous had nothing to do with what kind of foe one stood against, whether it was a fire-breathing dragon or a simple confession. Courage was about standing strong in the face of uncertainty. "But I also think we all learned that day how important it was to stand beside someone you love when they suffer such great loss. We were having one of those months when a lot of Switzerlands were needed. And then the most devastating thing happens and suddenly you're running to each other's side, not even once thinking of what you've been arguing about. And you know what? It fucking sucks. It sucks to see bad things happen to good people, and it sucks when you have no idea how to make it better because realistically, there is no way. You just have to be there for them, and hope that it can be enough, or even just a fraction of enough. I know I learned that—" Nora paused to take another breath. "Sometimes when you're at a loss for words and have no idea what you could possibly say, holding someone's hand can be all the strength they need. Just... that touch to remind them that they can feel more than just all the pain and all the bad. And it's not about me—it wasn't about me at all. But sometimes we need that reminder that, despite what we go through and how we can feel like we're slipping away from each other, we will always find a way to hold on. Because we don't take a leap of faith into the unknown for just anybody. We do it because we trust each other to be there through the darkest times, to help each other follow our dreams, and to remain human when we feel like we've lost our humanity."

"And?" Porter waited expectantly.

"There are a lot of things I regret, but there's nothing I would change about that time," Nora answered. "Even under the flame, we were golden. That's what happens when you show up for your friends. You show each other you're much more than that. You're family."