"Strings Between Us"

Ch.9-"Riptide"

Tour was still moving. The band was still playing.
But Y/N felt like she was drowning.

Since the night in her room, things with Tom had spiraled into something she couldn’t hold onto. One second he was hers—kissing her behind the stage curtain like he couldn’t breathe without her—and the next, he was gone again. Cold. Distant. Like he regretted all of it.

And the media wasn’t helping.

Every show came with more rumors. More photos.
More assumptions.

The pressure was suffocating.
And Tom was cracking under it.

---

It all came to a head in Berlin.

They’d just finished the encore when the crew ushered them into a private green room to cool off. Tension crackled in the air—everyone could feel it.

Y/N tried to pull Tom aside, her hand grazing his, voice low.

“Can we talk—please?”

But instead of pulling her in, Tom recoiled.

“Not here,” he muttered. “Not now.”

She blinked. “Tom, we have to talk.”

His jaw tightened. “You don’t get it. This isn’t just you and me anymore.”

“Oh, I get it,” she snapped, hurt flashing in her voice. “I’m good enough to fuck, but not good enough to be seen with.”

That made him freeze.

The room went still.

Bill glanced up from the couch, Georg’s head turned.

“Watch it,” Tom said, voice sharp and low.

“No,” Y/N said, stepping closer. “I’ve watched everything. Watched you pretend we’re nothing. Watched you flirt with girls two nights after sleeping with me. Watched you shut me out every time I got too close.”

Tom’s voice dropped to a whisper, harsh and defensive. “I didn’t ask you to fall for me.”

“And I didn’t ask to be broken by you,” she whispered back, eyes glistening.

---

That night, she packed her things.

No announcement. No drama.

Just pain.

She left a note in his guitar case. Three words:

“This is goodbye.”

---

For the next week, the band postponed two shows. “Illness,” the official statement said. Fans speculated everything—from a breakup to a breakdown.

Neither were far off.

Y/N disappeared.
No one knew where she went.
Not even Bill.

Tom stopped eating.
Stopped sleeping.
Played like a robot during rehearsals.

“Go find her,” Bill said one night. “If you don’t, you’re going to lose more than just her.”

Tom didn’t answer.

But later, he opened his guitar case for soundcheck and found her note again.

He stared at it for a long time.

Then finally—

He left.

---

The scene shifts.

Rain in Vienna.
Y/N sitting alone at a quiet bar in the outskirts of the city. Hoodie up, guitar by her side. She hadn’t played since she left. Couldn’t bring herself to.

And then—

“Is this seat taken?”

Her eyes lifted.

Him.

Soaked from the rain. Breathing like he’d run through the whole city. Eyes wide with panic. Regret. Hope.

She didn’t speak. Couldn’t.

Tom pulled the note from his pocket, water-streaked and smudged. “You said this was goodbye.”

She stayed silent.

“I never got to tell you it wasn’t.”

Her voice cracked. “Why now?”

He swallowed. “Because every time I play, I hear your guitar. Every time I sleep, I dream about your voice. And every time I wake up—”

He stepped closer.

“I hate that you’re not there.”

She broke.

Tears fell.

But she didn’t move.

So he did.

He dropped to his knees in front of her, voice wrecked. “I don’t care about the press. The band. The noise. None of it means anything if you’re not with me.”

Her voice was a whisper. “You broke me.”

“I know,” he said. “But I’ll spend every day trying to fix it—if you let me.”

---

She stared at him for a long moment.

Then slowly..finally..she reached for his hand.

And pulled him into her arms.