Page 29 of Key of Kink

I inhaled slowly, grounding myself in the present. Music first, Quinn later.

Probably.

That was the good thing about rehearsals, and coincidentally about Obsidian. They both took my mind away from my day job. Not the one where I wrote musical arrangements for groups and orchestras, but the other one.

The one I didn’t talk about, not even to Theo.

Milo was sitting at the piano, playing chords softly while he chatted with Julian, and my thoughts slid sideways again.

If Quinn kneels the same way next time⁠—

I cut that thought off cleanly. Control wasn’t about indulging impulses, it was about deciding when they mattered.

And that was the problem. This impulse seemed to matter.

A lot.

“I have a great idea.” Theo’s voice rose about the chatter. When everyone fell silent, fixing him with expectant glances, he gave a sweet smile. “Seeing as we’re here, we could… oh, I don’t know…. actually sing something?”

That look on Theo’s face meant trouble. It wasn’t bad but kind of purposeful. He pulled a tablet from his bag and connected it to the studio speakers.

“I’ve got something I’d like you to hear.”

Aha. ‘Blackbird’. The Beatles.

I gave him a smug smile, the one that said in a sing-song voice, I know what we’re do-ing.

Every head lifted.

“I’m getting a bad feeling about this,” Julian murmured.

Theo ignored him. “Before anyone panics, just listen.” Then he hit play.

The opening chords filled the room, slow, familiar, and reverent, and I blinked.

Okay, not the Beatles.

Hush settled almost instantly, the way it always did when a song everyone knew crept in sideways and reminded them why it endured.

‘Hallelujah’. Leonard Cohen.

Theo had chosen a gospel-leaning arrangement: a simple piano, space left deliberately open, harmonies implied rather than stated. It built patiently, inviting voices rather than demanding them.

By the second verse, no one was breathing quite right.

Julian had gone still. Milo’s eyes were closed, fingers tapping the rhythm unconsciously. Liam’s shoulders dropped, as if the song had reached in and steadied him from the inside out. Even Elliott’s smirk vanished.

Theo let it play through in full. When it ended, the silence lingered. He smiled. “Thoughts?”

Finnley raised a hand. “Are we emotionally prepared for that many hallelujahs?”

“Speak for yourself,” Julian said. “I was born prepared.”

“Born dramatic, more like,” Oliver muttered. Julian raised two fingers.

Theo clapped once, and the murmurs died away. “Let’s try it, just to see how it feels.” When he began handing out sheets with the lyrics, I knew we’d be doing more than simply trying it.

We lined up loosely, no formal placement yet.