The Reckless Collision

Ray.

~~~

The next day the rehearsal space was charged with an uneasy energy, like a thunderstorm waiting to break. Elena sat cross-legged on one end of the worn leather couch, her electric guitar balanced on her lap as she fine-tuned the strings. Across from her, Andrew paced the room, his bass slung low around his hips, the strap twisted as if he'd been yanking at it. Logan leaned against the far wall, his arms folded tightly across his chest, his face unreadable.

I stood near the center, guitar in hand, trying to keep my voice even. "Alright, let's run through 'Northern Lights' again. We need to nail the outro this time—it's been shaky the last few shows."

Elena's head snapped up, her dark eyes narrowing. "Shaky? I've been playing it clean. Maybe Logan needs to keep his beats steady for once."

Logan glared at her. "Excuse me? My beats have been fine. Maybe you should stop overcomplicating your solos and focus on the rhythm."

Elena snorted, a bitter smile curling her lips. "Overcomplicating? It's called having flair, Logan. Look it up."

I took a deep breath, the tension rolling off them in waves. "Enough," I said, my voice firm but not loud. They both fell silent, but their glares could have sparked a fire between them.

Andrew stopped, stepping forward. "Ray's right. We don't have time for this petty crap. Let's just get through the setlist."

For a second, I thought his calm tone might diffuse the situation, but Logan shook his head, his frustration bubbling over. "Petty crap? You're one to talk, Andrew. You've been checked out for weeks. You barely say a word to any of us unless it's about the music."

Andrew's jaw tightened, and he crossed his arms again. "I'm here, aren't I? Maybe you should focus on yourself instead of worrying about what I'm doing."

"Guys, come on," I interjected, but the words fell flat against the rising tide of anger in the room.

The air felt suffocating, the kind of heavy that made every breath feel like a struggle. My hands tightened on my guitar, my nails biting into the wood as I searched for the right thing to say, something that could cut through the tension without making things worse.

Elena stood, slinging her guitar over her shoulder with a sharp movement. "If this is how it's going to be, maybe I should just leave. God knows I don't need this kind of drama."

"Then go," Logan snapped, his voice echoing against the walls.

"That's enough!" I finally shouted, louder than I intended. The room went silent, all eyes turning to me. My chest heaved with the effort of holding it all in, and now that the words were spilling out, I couldn't stop them. "Do you even hear yourselves? We're supposed to be a band, a team. But all I see is a group of people tearing each other apart."

Elena looked away, her jaw tight, while Logan's shoulders slumped slightly, his anger deflating into something closer to shame. Andrew's expression remained unreadable, but he didn't meet my gaze.

"This isn't just about tonight," I continued, my voice softer now but no less strained. "I've felt it for weeks. The cracks in the way we work together, the way we talk to each other. And if we don't get it together, it's going to ruin us—not just as a band but as people."

The words hung heavy in the air, and for a moment, no one spoke. The silence was deafening, a stark contrast to the shouting that had filled the space moments before.

Andrew finally broke it, his voice low. "You're right, Ray. But maybe this isn't something we can fix overnight."

I nodded, the weight in my chest pressing harder. "I know. But we have to start somewhere."