xlvi. HALLO FRANKFURT.
February 15, 2018. | Third Person POV.
Frankfurt, Germany.

Sedona had arrived at the Festhalle early, as always. Jet lag tugged at her slightly, the flight from London to Germany still weighing on her body, but the excitement of another night on stage overpowered any lingering exhaustion. She thrived in this—moving from city to city, preparing to perform in sold-out arenas, feeling the energy shift as each show approached.

And, if she was being honest, the lingering warmth from yesterday's unforgettable Valentine's Day had her in even better spirits. She still felt light, as if she were floating. It had taken everything in her not to pack the balloons and the additional roses scattered around her suite, but she made sure that bouquet Kendrick gifted her—the one with the precise number of flowers for every day they'd known each other—was coming with her.

Now, dressed in loose-fitting, baggy jeans with a flannel tied around her waist, a vintage Mickey Mouse t-shirt, and a bandana wrapped around her head, Sedona moved through the venue with effortless ease. The oversized fit of her clothes gave her a laid-back look, but there was still an undeniable energy about her—like every step had a purpose, like she was making sure everything was just right before the show. The slight sway of her movements, the way she adjusted her sunglasses as she scanned the space, exuded the quiet confidence of someone who knew exactly what they were doing.

Yet, every now and then, she caught herself staring at her wrist. The bracelet Kendrick had given her the night before shimmered under the venue's lights, drawing more attention than she intended. She wasn't the only one noticing either.

Monica, always observant, smirked as she approached. "Looks like you had an amazing time yesterday."

Sedona didn't even try to hide the grin that stretched across her face. "Oh yes."

Monica laughed, shaking her head. "You all in love and shit. It's cute."

Sedona rolled her eyes playfully but didn't deny it. Instead, she pressed her lips together, shaking her head as if that could suppress the giddy warmth inside her.

—

Sedona stood in the middle of the rehearsal space, surrounded by her dancers, rolling her shoulders back as she stretched her arms overhead. The fabric of her oversized tee shifted slightly as she twisted her torso, loosening up her spine before reaching down to touch her toes. She moved with an effortless grace, her body attuned to every motion, every flex and release of muscle. 

Lowering herself to the floor, she extended her legs into a perfect middle split, her palms resting lightly on the ground as she eased deeper into the stretch. There was no hesitation, no tension—just fluidity, like her body was built for this. Around her, the dancers followed suit, each warming up in their own way, but all listening intently as she spoke. 

"Who knew that Valentine's Day could be so powerful," She mused, a soft smirk playing on her lips. The memory of Valentine's Day flickered through her mind—deep red roses, the way Kendrick looked at her, the way she felt in that dress. She exhaled, tilting her head slightly, before pressing further into the stretch, her fingers grazing the floor. "You'd think god himself came and sent me this man."

One of the dancers, Jayla, let out a knowing laugh as she reached for her toes. "Girl, you sound like the day changed your life."

Sedona chuckled, shifting her weight forward to rest on her forearms. "Maybe it did," She teased. "Or maybe it just reminded me how much power a moment can hold." She lifted her head slightly, her eyes glinting with something unreadable. "It's bold. Demanding. You wear red, you own the room."

"You definitely owned something that night," another dancer, Mya, joked, making the others burst into laughter. Sedona rolled her eyes but couldn't fight the grin stretching across her face.

Stretching her arms out in front of her, she took a deep breath, feeling the pull in her muscles, the strength in her core. She had missed this—the focus, the way her body moved with intention. It felt like stepping back into herself.

She sat up, crossing her legs as the dancers around her continued their warm-ups. "But real talk," She said, tucking a loose curl behind her ear, "That night reminded me why I love hard. Why I go all in. It's the feeling—the way your heart races, the way you lose track of everything except that moment."

The room quieted for a second, everyone soaking in her words. Then Jayla stretched her arms overhead with a sigh. "Damn, now you got me wanting to call my man."

Sedona laughed as she pushed herself up onto her feet. "Shoot, why not." She clapped her hands together, signaling it was time to move. "Now, let's get to work."

The crew was already setting up as Sedona made her way to the stage. Her sound team ran checks, musicians tuned their instruments, and background vocalists warmed up. She slipped on her in-ear monitors, adjusting the fit before stepping up to the mic.

"Alright, let's start from the second verse of 'Distraction.'"

The band fell in line instantly, the melody filling the venue as Sedona effortlessly slid into the song. She lost herself in the music, running through transitions, pacing out where she'd move across the stage, making sure every note and harmony was locked in.

She was mid-run when Dave strolled in, arms crossed as he watched from below. He didn't say much at first, just observing like he always did, until his sharp eye caught something glinting under the stage lights.

"Yo, hold up." He motioned for the music to stop, pointing directly at her wrist. "That's new."

Sedona glanced down, feigning innocence as she lifted her arm slightly. "What, this?"

"Yeah, that. You tryna act like you ain't just pop up with a whole bracelet that look like it could blind people?"

She only smiled, adjusting the chain lightly. "It's cute, ain't it?"

Dave scoffed, shaking his head. "Yeah, yeah. Whatever. Looks like he made your night."

Sedona ignored his teasing, resuming her position as they picked up where they left off.

A few more run-throughs passed before Kendrick finally showed up for his rehearsal slot. She had retreated to the audience seating by then, watching as he greeted the band and took his place on stage.

It was still a surreal thing—seeing him up there, commanding the space so naturally, his voice slipping effortlessly into his verses. She had seen him perform countless times before, but something about this moment hit differently. Maybe it was because she was seeing him through different eyes now.

—

As Kendrick wrapped up, Sedona leaned back in her chair, pulling out her phone. She hadn't called home in a minute, and she could already hear her mother's voice in her head, calling her out for it. 

She tapped the FaceTime icon, waiting as the screen rang. 

After a few moments, her mother's face appeared, eyes slightly squinted like she had just been reading something up close. 

"Hello, stranger," Marva greeted, her Jamaican accent thick and familiar. 

Sedona winced playfully. "I know, I know, I've just been caught up with everything, Momma." 

Instantly, her voice softened. It was something about talking to her mother that always made her feel like a kid again. No matter how many awards she won, how many countries she traveled to, how many nights she sold out arenas—when it came to Marva, she was still just her baby girl. 

"Mmmhmm," Marva hummed knowingly. "You always caught up in something. How's tour?" 

"Good. We're in Germany right now. Show's tonight." 

Her mother nodded approvingly. "That's nice, nice. Yuh getting rest?" 

"Trying to," Sedona admitted, dragging a hand down her face. 

"Try harder," Marva shot back, making Sedona laugh. "Have you been eating well? You starting to look like a tree branch." 

"Mom!" 

"I'm serious," Marva pressed. "Yuh work too hard, baby girl. I know yuh love it, but I need you to love yourself more." 

Sedona's chest tightened slightly at that. It wasn't just the words—it was the way her mother said them, gentle but firm, like she could see straight through the screen and into her soul. Like she knew the weight Sedona had been carrying, the long nights, the exhaustion she rarely admitted to. 

"I hear you," Sedona murmured. 

Marva gave her a look, one of those I know you better than that expressions only a mother could perfect. 

The conversation flowed easily from there, catching up on little things. Sedona gave her mother the usual rundown—how the shows were going, how the team was holding up—but intentionally left out the part about her and Kendrick. 

She wasn't ready for that conversation just yet. 

"How's Ezekiel?" Sedona asked, shifting the subject. 

"Him at school now, but he's doing great," Marva said, a hint of pride in her voice. "He ask 'bout you the other day, yuh know." 

Sedona's heart squeezed a little at that. It had been too long since she last saw her little brother, and the guilt sat heavy in her chest. 

"Yeah?" she asked, voice softer now. 

"Yeah, man. Him miss yuh." 

Sedona exhaled, nodding. "I miss him too. Tell him I'll call soon, yeah?" 

"Of course, my love." 

There was a pause, a brief moment of silence where Marva simply studied her daughter. Sedona could feel it—the way her mother's eyes took her in, scanning for things that weren't being said. She held her breath, knowing Marva could read her like a book. 

"You look happy, Sedona," Marva noted finally. "Different." 

Sedona blinked. "Good different?" 

"Very good." 

A small, secretive smile tugged at Sedona's lips. 

If only she knew. 

—

The rest of the afternoon moved swiftly, the venue buzzing with pre-show energy. Sedona ran through final checks, chatted with the crew, and kept her focus on the night ahead.

But even as she moved through the motions, her fingers would still occasionally brush against the bracelet on her wrist.

And she knew that no matter how electric tonight's performance would be, her mind was already anticipating what came after.

By the time the show rolled around, Sedona was starting to feel a little off. Not sick, but just... off. She blamed it on being on the road constantly, the endless travel wearing her down. She took a vitamin shot and powered through, unwilling to let anything mess up the night.

She was dressed comfortably yet effortlessly stylish—an orange cap snug over her blonde hair, a fitted anime-print tank, and cargo pants sitting low on her hips. Even in her casual fit, she floated with the energy of someone who had just experienced something unforgettable.

And the bracelet. The one Kendrick had given her last night. It hadn't left her wrist since, and every so often, she caught herself staring at it.

Backstage, she stood in front of the mirror, applying another layer of lip gloss when she felt his presence before he even said anything.

Kendrick leaned against the doorframe, watching her with that unreadable expression that she was slowly learning to decipher. "You good?"

"Mmhmm. Just tryna push through." She capped the gloss and turned to him fully. "I was just talking to my mom earlier."

He raised an eyebrow. "Yeah?"

She nodded, leaning against the vanity. "Yeah. She's good. Ezekiel too."

A comfortable silence stretched between them before she suddenly perked up. "Oh, by the way, you're officially my photographer for the next ten minutes."

Kendrick scoffed, but there was amusement in his eyes. "That so?"

"Mmhmm. 'Cause look at me—I look cute."

He chuckled but took the phone when she shoved it in his hands. As she posed, switching between sultry and playful, he followed along, taking pictures, even throwing in a "Damn, aight, model status," which only made her preen.

Before long, someone called for her—it was time.

She exhaled sharply, shaking out her arms, before looking at him one last time. "Wish me luck?"

"You don't need it," He said simply.

But still, just before she left, he reached out, adjusting her cap slightly, his fingers lingering against her jaw. "Go kill it."

—

And with that, she headed to the stage where she'd spend the next 45 minutes doing what she loved best and that is performing.

The moment Sedona hit the stage, whatever lingering exhaustion or unease she felt disappeared. The adrenaline, the roar of the crowd, the energy—this was where she felt most alive. 

On stage in Frankfurt, the energy was electric. The crowd roared as Sedona stood in the spotlight, soaking in the moment. She adjusted the mic in her hand, a playful smirk tugging at her lips as she leaned in.

"Hallo, Frankfurt!" She greeted, her voice smooth yet cheeky as she spoke in their native language.

The audience erupted, cheering even louder at her effort. Sedona grinned, tilting her head. "I been practicing, y'all," She teased, her drawl slipping through. "Don't be too hard on me."

The laughter and applause that followed made her smile widen. This was why she loved what she did—connecting, even in the smallest ways, with the people who showed up for her night after night.

"You ready to have a good time?!" She called out, her voice carrying over the sea of fans.

The deafening response told her everything she needed to know.

This show was about to be one for the books.

She commanded the stage effortlessly, hitting every note, moving through each song with precision yet ease. The crowd sang along, their voices blending with hers in a perfect harmony that sent chills down her spine. She thrived off of it, letting their energy fuel her, pushing herself beyond whatever tiredness tried to cling to her. 

The roar of the crowd was deafening, a thunderous wave of voices calling her name, but Sedona barely registered it in those first few moments. Standing center stage, bathed in the glow of the spotlights, she felt that familiar shift—the way the air thickened, the way her pulse synced with the beat about to drop.

This was home.

She gripped the mic, exhaling sharply as the opening chords of Distraction hummed through the venue. The first note slipped from her lips like second nature, wrapping around the melody effortlessly.

As she moved across the stage, her body fell into the rhythm she had known for so long. But there was something different tonight. An undercurrent of something unshakable. Maybe it was the exhaustion, or maybe it was something deeper, something she couldn't quite name.

Her fingers brushed against the bracelet on her wrist between transitions, a subconscious tether to last night, to him. She should be thinking about the performance, about hitting every cue flawlessly, but her mind kept drifting—back to candlelight, to whispered words, to the way Kendrick looked at her like she was the only thing that existed.

She pushed the thought away and leaned into the next song, Lowkey.

The crowd knew every word, their voices rising in perfect harmony with hers. Normally, that thrill of hearing thousands sing her lyrics back to her was enough to ground her, to fuel her. But tonight, the song felt heavier in her chest, like she was carrying the weight of every emotion that had ever gone into writing it.

She closed her eyes for just a second as she sang:

"I've been thinking about showing you how I feel."

The line struck differently now. When she had written it, she hadn't known it was soon going to be about Kendrick. Not really. But here, under these lights, with the weight of everything settling into her bones, it was undeniable.

And maybe that's what had been throwing her off all night. She wasn't just performing these songs anymore—she was living them.

As the final note lingered, she opened her eyes to see the crowd swaying, completely enthralled, and something inside her clicked.

This was why she did this. This was what she was meant for.

She tightened her grip on the mic, steadied herself.

No matter what uncertainty was lingering beneath the surface, right now, in this moment, she was exactly where she needed to be.

By the time she wrapped up her set, sweat glistened on her skin, her body buzzing from the high of performing. She stepped backstage, taking a deep breath, relishing in the quiet for just a second before she was pulled back into the whirlwind. 

Fans were waiting. 

Security ushered her toward the barricades where people screamed her name, phones and posters waving wildly in the air. Without hesitation, she dived right in, signing autographs, taking pictures, recording quick videos. She loved this part—the direct connection with the people who supported her. 

"Sedona, your music got me through so much!" One girl gushed, voice trembling. 

"That means everything to me," She responded sincerely, squeezing the girl's hand before moving on. 

It was a cycle that went on for what felt like forever, but she never rushed it. She gave every fan her time, her smile never once faltering despite the exhaustion creeping back into her bones. 

Eventually, security nudged her toward the exit. The night was winding down, and the sprinter was waiting. 

—

Inside the sprinter, Sedona sank into her seat, a bowl of fresh fruit balanced on her lap. The bus hummed with conversation—Monica and Dave locked in a heated debate over something ridiculous, their banter filling the space with laughter. 

Sedona, however, wasn't in the mood to engage. Her body was finally acknowledging the toll the night had taken, and she just wanted to be tucked into her own little world for a moment. But not before pulling Kendrick down beside her. 

He settled in without protest, stretching out comfortably. She didn't say anything at first, just leaned against him slightly as she popped a grape into her mouth and reached for her laptop. 

The screen illuminated her face as she clicked through files, her fingers moving with practiced ease until she landed on one in particular—her sophomore album. 

She hesitated for just a second before slipping on her headphones, pressing play. 

The sound filled her ears instantly. 

Sedona leaned back against the plush seat, letting the music wrap around her, trying to listen to it like she wasn't the one who had created it.

It was good. No—it was damn good. The production was lush, layered with depth, the lyrics cut deep without trying too hard. But still, that nagging feeling crept in, whispering doubt into the corners of her mind.

Was it enough?

She had written most of this album in Jamaica, alone, tucked away in a place where she could hear her own thoughts clearly for the first time in a long time. The songs were intimate, personal, and reflective of everything she had felt back then. But now, months later, was she still that same person?

Would people even get it?

She sighed, rubbing her temple as she stared at the screen.

This wasn't just about an album. It was about her. How she wanted to be seen, how she wanted to be remembered.

She knew the industry—knew how fickle it was. One misstep, one project that didn't connect, and suddenly, people would start questioning everything. She had spent years building herself up to this moment. Could she afford to take a risk?

Her gaze flickered to Kendrick, who was watching her, waiting.

"What you listening to?" He asked, voice low. 

Without a word, she unplugged her headphones, letting the track play aloud. The song that poured through the speakers was titled Tread Carefully—a somewhat deeply personal record she had written in Jamaica. The production was lush, layered with warm bass and melancholic synths, her vocals raw yet controlled. 

She watched him carefully as he listened, studying his expression for any flicker of hesitation. But there was none. Just quiet focus, his head nodding slightly in time with the beat.

"This for the album?"

"Yeah," She admitted, watching his face carefully. "Most of the songs I wrote while I was in Jamaica. It's a reflection of my mental state at the time."

He took that in, running a hand over his jaw. "You questioning it?"

She hesitated before nodding. "I don't know if I should just scrap the whole thing and make it an EP or keep pushing. I have a clear vision, but..." She trailed off, chewing her lip. "I'm scared."

Kendrick exhaled, giving her a look that was both blunt and reassuring at the same time. "If you already got the vision, then what you scared of?"

"Messing it up," She admitted. "Or people not feeling it the way I do."

He shook his head. "That's part of the game. You don't create for people's approval—you create 'cause it's what you need to say. Whether it's an EP or an album, that's on you. But if the only thing stopping you is fear, then you already lost."

His words hit deeper than she expected.

He was right. She knew he was.

Fear had never been part of her process before. She had always moved with certainty, with conviction. She had trusted herself. When had she started second-guessing?

She let out a slow breath, nodding.

"And don't be dumb either," He added, smirking slightly. "You know this shit is fire." 

That made her laugh. "Oh, I know." 

"Then stop playing."

She sighed but nodded, feeling some of that anxiety lift. Kendrick was right—she did know this project was special. She just needed to trust herself. 

With that, she leaned back, pressing play on another track. And as the bus continued toward their next destination, she let herself believe in what she was creating.

Sedona closed her laptop, but the conversation didn't stop there. With Kendrick beside her, the music still playing softly from her speakers, they stayed locked in their own world, the rest of the sprinter fading into background noise.

"You ever think about how much music shaped who you are?" She asked, running her fingers along the edge of her laptop.

Kendrick gave her a sideways glance. "Every day."

She nodded, eyes drifting to the window as the dark roads of Frankfurt blurred past. "It's been such an integral part of my life, like, I don't even know who I'd be without it." She exhaled, a soft smile tugging at her lips. "Everything I am is rooted in music. From my Jamaican side, my southern side, my daddy's West Coast influence—it's all in me."

Kendrick adjusted in his seat, intrigued. "Break that down for me."

Sedona grinned, leaning back. "Well, you already know my momma's Jamaican. She came to the States when she was young, but she never let go of home, you feel me? We grew up in the house hearing Beres Hammond, Dennis Brown, Buju Banton, all of that. The bass, the riddims, the way the music makes you move—it's in my blood."

Kendrick nodded, already seeing it. "That's why your melodies be hitting different."

"Exactly," She smirked. "It's second nature to me. But then there's Georgia—that's my foundation. I grew up on OutKast, Goodie Mob, Usher, all of that Atlanta sound. Southern soul mixed with hip-hop, mixed with gospel. But what's crazy is, my roots go deeper than just Georgia."

"How so?"

"My daddy's side. His parents and their parents? They're from Louisiana, Baton Rouge to be exact. That's where my last name—Baptiste—comes from. They eventually made their way to California, but that Creole culture is still in me. The music, the food, the way we carry ourselves—it's all connected."

Kendrick listened intently, soaking it all in.

"But then," Sedona continued, "My daddy was born and raised Inglewood as we all know. His folks packed up everything they had and left Louisiana to start over in Cali. And that's where I get my West Coast influence from. My daddy put me on to everything—G-Funk, Death Row, DJ Quik, Warren G, E-40, all the classics that made hip-hop what it is today."

Kendrick chuckled. "That's why you be knowing all the deep cuts."

"Exactly!" Sedona laughed, nudging him. "It's why my sound is so layered. I got all these different cultures, different histories inside me. Jamaican roots, Southern grit, West Coast bounce—it all makes sense when you really listen to my music."

Kendrick gave her a look of admiration. "That's why you different. It ain't just music to you—it's who you are."

She nodded, voice softer now. "It really is. And sometimes, I think that's what scares me. Like, what if people don't understand? What if they try to put me in a box when I ain't meant to be in one?"

Kendrick shook his head. "Fuck a box. You already proving you don't need one. Just keep doing what you doing—trust yourself, 'cause this shit? It's real. It's you."

Sedona stared at him for a long moment, her heart full.

"You always know what to say," She murmured.

Kendrick smirked. "That's 'cause I mean it."

She sighed, a small, content smile forming on her lips. With her head resting against the seat, the conversation lingered between them, comfortable and unspoken. The music continued playing softly, carrying the essence of everything they had just talked about—their past, their present, their future.

And for the first time in a long time, Sedona wasn't scared. She was exactly where she was meant to be.

Sedona smirked, tilting her head as she looked at Kendrick. "If we're being honest, y'all Cali folks just sound like proper ass Southerners," She joked, nudging him playfully. 

Kendrick chuckled, shaking his head. "Oh yeah? That's how you feel?"

"I mean, think about it!" She laughed. "The way y'all talk, the slang, even the way y'all be cooking sometimes—it's got Southern roots all in it."

Kendrick nodded, amused. "You ain't wrong, though. A lotta folks out west got family from down south."

Sedona's smile softened as she sat up a little, her fingers absentmindedly playing with the bracelet on her wrist. "Which makes sense 'cause a lot of people from the South moved there looking for better opportunities, trying to escape Jim Crow."

Her voice dipped into something more thoughtful, her mind wandering. "That's something I always find myself thinking about. How so many of our people had to leave home just to try and build something better. And in doing that, they carried the culture with them—music, food, language, everything. That's why I feel so connected to all of it, 'cause it's all a part of me."

Kendrick studied her for a moment, appreciating the depth of her words. "That's real. You got a whole history in you, and it shows."

Sedona exhaled, leaning back against the seat. "Yeah... I just wanna do right by it, you know?"

Kendrick nodded. "You already are."

She met his gaze, something warm and steady passing between them. In a way, this conversation wasn't just about music anymore—it was about legacy, about identity, about the journey that brought them both here. 

The sprinter hummed along the road, but for Sedona, it felt like she was exactly where she was meant to be.

By the time they pulled up to the hotel, Sedona let out a small sigh of relief. A four-day break before the next concert in London—it was exactly what she needed. The team moved swiftly, making sure to keep a close eye on the paparazzi lingering outside, cameras flashing the second they stepped out. Sedona adjusted her hoodie, keeping her head down as Kendrick placed a hand on the small of her back, guiding her inside. 

Once they were settled in, Kendrick glanced at her, taking note of the way she rubbed at her temples. "We should just chill tonight," He suggested. "Watch a movie or somethin'." 

Sedona, already peeling off her hoodie, nodded. "Yeah, that sounds good."

She disappeared into her room, freshening up before slipping into her yellow fuzzy Tweety Bird pajama pants and a simple tank top. The moment she stepped out and walked into Kendrick's suite, his eyes immediately went to her pants, and before she could even say a word, he let out a quiet snicker. 

Sedona narrowed her eyes. "Don't even start." 

"I ain't say nothin'," He defended, though the smirk on his face said otherwise. 

"It's comfortable, stop hating," She muttered, flopping onto the couch beside him. 

Kendrick shook his head, biting back another laugh as he grabbed the remote. "A'ight, aight. What we watching?"

After scrolling through options, they landed on Lady and the Tramp—a classic. Something easy to watch, familiar. The lights dimmed slightly as the movie started, and for a while, they just existed in each other's space, enjoying the quiet after weeks of constant movement. 

As the film played, Sedona slowly inched closer to him, subtly scooting her way until her shoulder brushed against his. 

Kendrick glanced at her, amusement flickering in his eyes. "Uh huh. What you doin'?" 

"What?" She blinked innocently. "It's a bit cold."

He huffed out a soft laugh but didn't say anything else. Instead, he draped an arm across the back of the couch, letting her rest against him as the movie played on. 

And just like that, the night slowed down, the weight of the world outside disappearing, leaving only the warmth between them.

—

©kashdemi
Volume I- Redamancy.
Chapter Forty-six.
— ０２／１０／２５
———————

It's been a good amount of hours since the Halftime show and what I can say is KENDRICK & SZA ATE DOWN. The message, theme, MUSIC CHOICES, coloring, aesthetic 10/10. If you haven't understood it yet or grasped it yet all I can say is that you lack media literacy, don't read actual books—hell you didn't even pay attention in history class. IT WAS RIGHT IN YOUR FACE.

For those who kept on complaining about the music, if you haven't watched his Apple interviews you'd know he talked about the PRESENT multiple times. LIVING IN THE PRESENT. Besides his 2022 + older concert videos are there if you feeling nostalgic. A simple google search will do you justice.

What I also find ironic is how the ending words of this chapter coincides with the performance. Mind you I written this about a week ago. Isn't that cool?

HAPPY BLACK HISTORY MONTH TO ALL MY BLACK PEOPLE!!!!!!

Thoughts on the chapter? Thoughts on their growing relationship? And what do you expect for the next one?

Stay tuned for the next chapter, & til next time!
-shea