“Let’s show the world what we’re made of,” I say, feeling the fury pooling in my chest, the embers of purpose igniting within me. I catch a glimmer of respect from Nash, the way his gaze meets mine. The reassurance washes over me, echoing in the connection we share.
The interview may have cast a shadow over us, but together, we will carve our path, undaunted by anyone who attempts to shackle our dreams. Standing there, encircled by my bandmates, I realize I won’t just be a face on the screen or a voice caged in fear. I’ll rise, the will to fight enveloping me, roaring louder than any ridicule, determined to take my future into my own hands.
My voice may have cracked, but it never broke. And neither did I.
From the moment I joined the band, I’ve been filming content, but it’s never mattered more than it does now. Every day I capture something new to share with the fans. We aren’t simply launching a new voice for Raina, but a completely new genre of music. We’ve traded the polished pop for something grittier, more real.
Between Tristan’s groveling videos and mine, the fans are finally seeing the Raina we know—the one who’s fought through darkness and come out stronger.
They thought they loved her before, but now they see the scars beneath the shine, and somehow, that only makes them love her more.
It’s been a beautiful thing to watch.
I set my phone on the tripod, adjusting the angle to capture the band: each instrument nestled in its spot like pieces of a puzzle. The familiar scent of wood, metal, and shared dreams ignites a flicker of excitement. As I glance around, Keaton sits behind his kit, adjusting the snare, while Nash cradles his basslike a prized possession. Blake fiddles with his cello, a picture of concentration, and Tristan leans against the wall, guitar poised. We’re ready to make music again.
“Dude, if you don’t hit record soon, I might just burst,” Nash teases, his usual grin lighting up the room.
“Relax, I’m getting everything set up,” I say, a smile dancing on my lips as I double-check the framing. The last thing I want is to miss capturing this moment. Sometimes they don’t have the patience to indulge me in a second take.
Tristan chuckles, his voice steady. “You better frame us perfectly. I want the whole world to see how united we look.”
Blake rolls his eyes, a playful smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. “More like see how hard we’re working. Right, Raina?”
“It feels like we’ve got enough footage of that at this point,” she teases me. “I’ll make sure it’s good.” She nudges me with her elbow to get out of the way, and I can’t help but lean in and kiss the corner of her mouth.
The blush that colors her cheeks makes me want to draw her in for a proper kiss, but I know the guys will start without me and I’ll miss getting the song I want to record.
I hit record right as the banter flows seamlessly between them. “Alright, enough chatter. Let’s hit it.” I join them at my keyboard, feeling the anticipation rise like static before a storm.
Nash plucks at his bass, letting a low note resonate that sets the tone, while Keaton picks up a quick tempo on the drums. Tristan’s fingers dance over the strings of his guitar, and Blake tugs the bow across his cello. The sound builds, raw and gritty rock with an undercurrent of something haunting that weaves into the air.
I can’t help but glance at Raina every now and then, ensuring she’s capturing the dynamic energy in the room. It feels alive; the music pulses and swells. There’s a connection hummingbetween us now, one that we never had before, and she’s the reason we formed this unbreakable bond.
When we reach the crescendo, I watch the rippling harmony wash over us. The melody is haunting—almost palpable—and it’s strange not having Raina’s vocals soaring over this moment. You’d think by now we would be used to practicing like this, but she’s our center; she’ll always be missed when not participating. Even if she is watching everything we do and giving us feedback. I push the thought aside, knowing it’s not time to dwell. Today is about creating content that I can use to tantalize the fans.
As we finish the track of our latest song, the sounds fade into a harmony that settles into the silence left behind. I glance over the footage captured on my phone, mentally editing the segments that spark my interest for the teaser. Each moment holds its weight, and I resolve to be deliberate about what I share. I’m working on building a positive anticipation for revealing her voice to them. That bastard Lexington already told them her voice will never be the same, trying to kill their love for their favorite artist. But Raina’s fans are faithful, thankfully.
“Dude, that was sick!” Nash exclaims, leaning back with an exaggerated flair. “Can you feel how well we gel? We’re like a fucking machine.”
Even without the vocals, we’re growing in ways I never could’ve expected. The feeling of purpose surges through me, and as long as we’re here, making music, I know we’ll find a way to carry Raina along with us.
With that thought in mind, I step back from the camera, ready to embrace the adventure ahead, side by side, no matter what it might bring.
Iwasn’t planning to spy on Raina, but passing the living room on my way to fill a water bottle, I freeze at the sight of her.
She’s perfection.
The sun spills through the window, casting a warm glow that envelops her as she sits in the corner, the gentle light creating an almost ethereal aura around her. It’s a stunning sight—the way she hunches over her notebook, pencil dancing in time to the rhythm of her thoughts. I can’t help but grin, my heart swelling at the sight. This space brims with creativity, and Raina is its centerpiece.
I draw my phone out of my pocket, needing to capture every nuance of her process. The soft hum of the world outside fades as I focus on her, each motion she makes, each flick of her wrist bringing a sense of calm and anticipation.
Raina taps her pencil against the page, her brows furrowing in concentration as if trying to pull the words from the depths of her imagination. She scribbles something furiously, crosses it out in one smooth stroke, and then writes again, this time with renewed certainty. Watching her determination fuels something within me: pride, admiration, maybe even love. I quietly film, ensuring to catch every second, every struggle, every moment where inspiration flutters to life within her.
This is what the fans need to see. Her passion is unlike anyone else’s that I’ve worked with, and when her Storm Chasers see this, they won’t believe any of the crap Lexington Productions has been spewing.
Of course, my recording doesn’t pass Raina’s notice. Every once in a while, she glances up, her eyes bright and playful. When they catch mine, a small smile breaks across her lips, teasing but endearing. “You know, I didn’t ask for a documentary crew,” she quips, tilting her head slightly, and I laugh, loving the banter we’ve built.
“Maybe I’m just hoping to catch your brilliance on film,” I counter, stepping closer. She arches an eyebrow, her expression daring me to keep up with her.
