ECHOES OF THE LAST BEAT

|CHAPTER 1 |

The overhead lights flickered faintly, their reflection trembling on the polished wooden floor. Krys stood in the center of the rehearsal studio, arms crossed, his gaze fixed on Ava. The music poured through the speakers, filling the room with a thumping bass that should've stirred something inside him. Instead, he felt hollow.

Ava moved like she always did—effortlessly, her every step precise, her movements sharp yet graceful. Watching her, Krys felt a pang that wasn't entirely unfamiliar. She still had that magnetism, the ability to pull everyone's eyes toward her without trying. She had once been the reason his heart raced, the reason he believed in things like fate and forever. But that was a lifetime ago.

The Ava he saw now wasn't the same. She wasn't the girl who used to collapse on the studio floor laughing after a late-night rehearsal or the one who whispered his name like it was a secret only they shared. No, this Ava was distant, untouchable, a carefully constructed wall of perfection. And he hated her for it.

The music came to an abrupt stop, leaving a heavy silence in its wake. Ava paused mid-step, her chest rising and falling as she caught her breath. Her eyes flickered toward Krys, but they didn't meet his. 

Krys sighed, letting the tension that coiled in his chest spill out. "Can we just get this over with?" His voice came out colder than he intended, but he didn't care enough to soften it.

Ava straightened, her posture rigid. "Fine." Her tone was clipped, her words laced with the same sharpness as her movements. "Let's finish it."

They moved to the center of the room, their positions instinctive after countless rehearsals. The lead duet for Stars Align was supposed to be the pinnacle of their careers, the performance that would launch them to a level they'd only dreamed of. But for Krys, it felt like something else entirely—a noose tightening around his neck, dragging him back to a time he wanted to forget.

"Ready?" Ava asked, her voice steady, though her fingers twitched at her side.

Krys nodded, his jaw tightening. "Yeah."

The music began again, the rhythm pulsing like a heartbeat, guiding their movements. They started slow, their steps deliberate, each motion a practiced reflection of the other. But something was missing. The spark, the unspoken connection that once made their dancing feel effortless—it was gone, replaced by a hollow imitation.

Krys turned sharply, his hand catching Ava's as she spun toward him. Their eyes met again, and for a fleeting moment, he saw something raw in her gaze. It was gone as quickly as it appeared, replaced by the same guarded expression she always wore now.

They continued, their movements perfectly in sync, yet devoid of the passion that used to define them. It was just another rehearsal, another step closer to a performance they were both dreading.

As Ava turned, her hand brushing his shoulder, Krys felt a rush of memories he'd tried to bury. Late nights in this very studio, her laughter echoing as they stumbled through new choreography. The warmth of her touch when she reached for him, not just as a dance partner, but as someone who saw him for who he really was.

He gritted his teeth, forcing himself to focus. Those memories didn't matter anymore. Ava wasn't that girl. And he wasn't the boy who thought they could make it through anything.

Their movements quickened as the routine neared its climax. Ava's hand extended toward him, and Krys hesitated for a fraction of a second before pulling her into the final hold. Their bodies pressed together, closer than they had been in months. For a heartbeat, it felt like the world stopped.

Krys could feel her breath against his neck, could smell the faint trace of lavender that always clung to her skin. His grip on her tightened involuntarily, as if holding on could somehow bring them back to what they used to be.