Page 13 of Rhythm and Rapture

TWO HOURS LATER

"Delete that,"I say for the fifteenth time, watching Ash hunt-and-peck his way through another draft message. "You sound like you're applying for a job as her personal chemistry tutor."

"Well, what would you write?" he demands, gesturing wildly with his phone. "Hi, we're the band whose lyrics you quoted while talking about being scared of intimacy. Want to grab coffee and discuss our collective emotional damage?"

Roman snorts from his position on the floor, surrounded by crumpled paper and three different notebooks. "At least that's honest. Better than my attempts." He holds up a page covered in crossed-out lines. "I've been trying to write this like song lyrics for two hours. Everything sounds either too desperate or too casual."

I lean over to read his latest attempt:"Your stream tonight resonated with us on a level that transcends typical performer-audience dynamics..."

"Jesus Christ, Roman. Are you writing her a message or submitting a thesis to the Journal of Parasocial Relationships?"

"Fuck you. You try writing to someone whose intelligence intimidates you."

Ash waves his phone triumphantly. "Okay, what about: 'Hey, loved your stream tonight. We're musicians and would love to collaborate on some educational content. Hit us up if you're interested.'"

Roman and I exchange a look.

"That's..." I pause, trying to find a diplomatic way to say it. "Vague to the point of meaninglessness. Collaborate how? Educational content about what? She's supposed to psychically divine that we're not just another group of musicians trying to get in her pants?"

"Well, what's your brilliant idea then, Mr. Precision?"

I've actually been drafting something in my head for the past hour, but saying it out loud feels like admitting defeat. "Something simple. Professional but personal. Acknowledging what she shared without making it weird."

"Such as?"

I take Ash's phone before I can second-guess myself and type:

Caught your last stream. Your explanation of chemical bonding was fascinating. We'd love to discuss a potential collaboration. -Roman Cross, Fractured Theory

"There. Professional interest, acknowledges her expertise, leaves the door open without being presumptuous."

Roman studies the message. "It's good. Clean. But maybe too clean? What if she thinks we're just another business proposition?"

"Better than sounding like stalkers," I point out.

"But what if—" Ash starts.

"We're overthinking this," I interrupt, hovering my thumb over the send button. "It's either going to work or it's not. But sitting here writing and rewriting the same message for three hours isn't going to change the fundamental question of whether she wants to hear from us."

Roman nods slowly. "Send it."

"Are you sure? Because once I hit send, there's no taking it back. We'll officially be the guys who slid into The Hidden Chemist's DMs."

"Send it," Ash agrees. "Before we lose our nerve."

I hit send before anyone of us can think about it anymore.

The message disappears into the digital void, and we all stare at the screen like it might immediately ping back with a response.

"You know," Ash says thoughtfully, "Roman's original idea about just saying we wanted to get to know the person behind the mask and wanted to talk was actually pretty good. Poetic, even."

Roman's eyes snap up, dark and menacing, his arms flexing as he visibly holds himself back from possibly throttling Ash. "I'm sorry, what? You spent TWO HOURS telling me that was 'too simple' and 'not specific enough' and making me rewrite everything seventeen different ways!"

"Yeah, but now that I think about it?—"

"NOW that you think about it?" Roman's voice climbs an octave. "Ash, I swear to God, if you made us overthink this into oblivion for no reason?—"

"Well," I say, looking at the sent message, "it's a little late for buyer's remorse now."

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