Noah paced back and forth in the dimly lit rehearsal space. The low hum of amps and the muted strum of Jolly idly playing guitar were the only sounds breaking the silence. He rubbed the back of his neck, the tension coiled so tightly it felt like it would snap. There was a reason why he usually kept to himself after rehearsals—this restlessness clawed at him when he was alone. But today, it was worse.

The vivid image of Nalani at Nicholas' tattoo studio played in his mind on a loop. Her grin as she bantered with Nick, the subtle way she winced but still held her composure—it all twisted something deep in Noah's chest. He scowled at himself, trying to shake off the feeling.

Get a grip, man, he thought, pacing faster. This is absurd.

It wasn't as if he had any reason to feel like this. He was Noah Sebastian, lead singer of Bad Omens. He'd built his reputation on being unfazed, aloof, and coldly efficient. Emotions were a luxury he didn't entertain, and vulnerability was a weakness he refused to show. It was easier that way—safer. But Nalani's presence seemed to chip away at that armor, and it infuriated him.

"Noah, are you even listening?" Jolly's voice cut through his thoughts, sharp and pointed. Noah stopped pacing and glanced at his bandmate, who raised an eyebrow at him.

"Yeah," Noah muttered, though the lie was thin. He crossed his arms over his chest, his jaw clenched tightly.

"Right," Jolly said, rolling his eyes. He shifted his focus to Nicholas, who had just walked in with an exaggerated sigh. "Speaking of distractions, how's our ink master?"

Nicholas laughed, dropping his gear on the floor and stretching his arms. "Tired. But it was worth it. Nalani handled it like a champ yesterday."

The moment Nicholas mentioned her name, Noah's posture stiffened. He leaned against the wall, turning his face slightly so his reaction wouldn't be visible. The air in the room thickened, and he felt the familiar churn of jealousy rise up, threatening to betray him. He forced himself to maintain a neutral expression, though inside, a war raged.

"Yeah, it was cool seeing her so excited about it," Nick added with a grin. "She's tougher than she looks."

Noah's nails dug into his palms, the sting grounding him. Shut up, Nick. The words hovered at the edge of his tongue, but he bit them back. He couldn't afford to let anyone see how much it affected him. The thought of admitting he felt anything for Nalani—not even to himself—was suffocating.

"Looks like you've found yourself a fan, huh?" Jolly teased, nudging Nick with a knowing look. The room erupted in laughter, except for Noah, who managed a tight smile that didn't reach his eyes. His mind screamed at him to leave, to put distance between himself and this conversation.

"I'm just being a friend," Nick said, his cheeks reddening slightly. "She needed some support, so I was there."

"Yeah, and Noah was there too," Jolly added slyly, glancing at the singer. "Didn't seem too thrilled, did you, Noah?"

Noah's eyes darkened, and his voice came out sharper than intended. "I was there for the music. Not for... whatever else was going on."

The room fell silent for a moment, the tension palpable. Jolly exchanged a glance with Nicholas, who raised an eyebrow, both of them picking up on Noah's defensive tone.

Nicholas smirked, leaning back in his chair. "Relax, man. It's just a tattoo. You're acting like she's running off to join another band or something."

Noah's eyes flashed with something unreadable before he turned away. His pulse hammered as he forced his expression to remain cold and detached. The problem wasn't the tattoo. It wasn't even Nick. It was what it all represented—how Nalani had slipped under his skin, past his defenses, without him realizing it. And that made him vulnerable, something he swore never to be.

Vulnerability invites pain, he reminded himself, the words echoing like a mantra. It was a lesson he'd learned the hard way in the past. Letting someone close meant giving them the power to hurt you, and he wouldn't allow that again.

Yet there was something about Nalani that challenged everything he thought he knew. Her fierce independence, the way she pushed back against his arrogance, and the fleeting moments when their eyes met, sparking an unspoken connection that both infuriated and intrigued him.

But Noah was nothing if not stubborn. He refused to let these feelings take root, even as they simmered dangerously close to the surface. He would rather mask them with indifference or hostility than acknowledge the truth—that she had started to matter to him in ways he couldn't explain.

Nick's voice cut through his spiraling thoughts again. "Anyway, I hope she's feeling good today. First tattoos are special, and she seemed pretty proud."

Noah couldn't take it any longer. He pushed himself off the wall, his movements abrupt. "I'm going for a smoke," he muttered and stalked out of the room without waiting for a response.

The moment he stepped outside, the cool air hit him like a slap. He lit a cigarette with shaky hands and took a long drag, feeling the familiar burn settle in his chest. The city sounds were muted, a far-off hum that did little to quiet the chaos inside him.

What is wrong with me? Noah asked himself, exhaling smoke into the night. He'd never been this rattled, never let anyone get under his skin like this. But every time he saw Nalani, something in him unraveled, and it scared him more than he was willing to admit.

The door behind him creaked open, and Jolly stepped out, his expression thoughtful. He didn't say anything for a moment, just stood there with Noah in the silence.

"You know," Jolly said finally, "for someone who doesn't care, you sure act like you do."

Noah's jaw tightened, but he didn't respond. Admitting anything out loud was too dangerous. It would mean facing the truth, and he wasn't ready for that.

Noah stayed silent, letting Jolly's words hang in the air like a challenge. His fingers trembled slightly as he flicked the ash from his cigarette, a nervous tell he'd never let anyone catch. Jolly didn't push, just observed him with that unreadable gaze he reserved for moments when he was trying to piece something together.

"You're really going to pretend you don't see it?" Jolly continued, shifting his weight against the wall. "The way you look at her. Or, should I say, the way you try not to look at her."

Noah's eyes narrowed, his stare icy as he turned to face Jolly. "What are you talking about?" The words were clipped, defensive, a warning for Jolly to back off. But the guitarist only raised his eyebrows, undeterred.

"Man, we've been in a band together for how long now?" Jolly said with a smirk. "You think I don't know when something's up with you? It's written all over your face—well, when you let it slip, anyway."

Noah scoffed, taking another drag as if the cigarette could shield him from this conversation. "You're seeing things. She's just another musician in another band."

Jolly's laughter was low and dry, lacking any real humor. "Keep telling yourself that, Noah. Maybe one day you'll believe it."

Before Noah could retort, the door opened again, and Nicholas stepped out. He looked between Noah and Jolly, sensing the tension but opting to act oblivious. "Hey, I thought you two were out here plotting a heist or something," Nicholas joked, shoving his hands into his pockets.

Jolly grinned, his expression mischievous. "Just giving Noah a hard time, as usual."

Noah rolled his eyes, stubbing out the cigarette against the wall with more force than necessary. He turned to go back inside, but Nicholas' next words rooted him to the spot.

"Oh, and speaking of hard times," Nicholas said with a pointed glance at Noah, "Nick was just texting Nalani to check in on her. He said she's still on cloud nine about the tattoo."

There it was—that tightness in Noah's chest, like a vice squeezing around his ribcage. He didn't move, didn't react, but he felt it—the jealousy that clawed at him. It was irrational, he knew. Nalani could talk to whoever she wanted; it wasn't his business. But the thought of Nick being the one to make her smile, to support her, gnawed at him like a restless beast.

"Cool," Noah said, his voice flat. He pushed the door open and stepped back into the rehearsal space without another word, leaving Jolly and Nicholas exchanging knowing glances behind him.

Inside, Noah paced to the far end of the room where the shadows swallowed the light. He pressed his back against the wall and closed his eyes, letting out a shaky breath. He had to get a grip. This thing—whatever it was with Nalani—was starting to consume him, and he couldn't afford that kind of distraction.

"Hey, bro," Nick's voice jolted him out of his thoughts. He turned to see his bandmate approaching, a relaxed grin on his face. "You good? You seem tense."

"I'm fine," Noah snapped, regretting the harshness immediately. He ran a hand through his hair, exhaling through his nose. "Sorry. Just a lot on my mind."

Nick tilted his head, studying him for a moment before shrugging. "Fair enough. Just thought I'd check." He paused, then added with a sly smile, "By the way, Nalani said she'd love to hang out next time we're in the same city. Maybe we should all get together, you know? It could be fun."

Noah felt his jaw tighten again, the word "no" sitting bitterly on his tongue. But he couldn't say that. He had no right to. Instead, he forced a nod, the motion stiff. "Yeah. Maybe."

Nick's smile widened, oblivious to the storm brewing beneath Noah's composed surface. He clapped him on the shoulder and turned back to join the others, leaving Noah alone with his racing thoughts.

Later that night, as the band packed up their gear, Jolly sidled up to Nicholas, nodding in Noah's direction. The singer was mechanically coiling a mic cable, his eyes distant.

"Did you see that?" Jolly whispered to Nicholas, who chuckled under his breath.

"Yeah, he's definitely on edge," Nicholas said. "You think he'll ever admit it?"

"Not a chance," Jolly said with a smirk. "He'd rather implode first."

Nicholas shook his head, the humor in his eyes softening. "Poor guy. He's fighting a battle he doesn't even realize he's losing."

"Or," Jolly added, "he realizes it and just won't give in. Noah's always been like that. It's easier for him to be cold than to be vulnerable."

Nicholas glanced at Noah, who now stood by the window, staring out at the dark cityscape. His profile was lit by the neon glow from the street signs, casting sharp angles across his face. Nicholas felt a pang of sympathy; Noah's stoic exterior was cracking, whether he wanted it to or not.

"And when he finally does give in?" Nicholas asked, half-joking, half-wondering.

Jolly's smile faded, his eyes serious for once. "Then I just hope he doesn't push her too far away before that happens."

As the night dragged on, Noah found himself alone once more, the rehearsal space quiet except for the faint hum of the street outside. He sat down heavily on the old, scuffed sofa, his head dropping into his hands.

He thought of Nalani's laugh, the way her eyes lit up when she was telling a story. The way she didn't flinch under his cold demeanor, matching him glare for glare. She was so different from anyone he'd known, and it scared him.

But what scared him more was that no matter how hard he tried, he couldn't stop thinking about her.

Instead, he took another drag of his cigarette and stared out at the city, the weight of unspoken feelings pressing down on him like an anchor.