Chapter I - Silence between the notes.
warnings: no ones tbt.
The sound wasn't yet a music.
It was tension. Broken chords hung in the air like unfinished thoughts, the drums tested the pulse of the room, not the rhythm. The lights were dim—they always were. The semi-darkness wasn't a choice, it was the natural state of this place. Here, everything was born in shadow. Noah sat on the couch, his guitar resting on his knee. His fingers were still. He wasn't playing. He was listening. He was always listening to sounds, to breaths, to pauses between words. To what people said unconsciously—with their bodies, with their gazes, with their lack of reaction. Jolly was throwing something at Nick, Nicholas was commenting in an undertone, Bryan was leaning over his laptop, Michael was tapping his fingers on the tabletop. A scene painfully familiar. Safe. Controlled. And despite this safety, Noah felt a familiar tingling in his fingertips. He felt his heart skip a beat, his breath catch in his lungs.
And then the door opened without a knock. Noah looked up immediately. Not because he was expecting anyone in particular, but because his body knew before his mind. He sensed her.
Iris entered first.
Always first, but she didn't make a grand entrance. She didn't attract attention. She simply crossed the threshold—and everything else faded for Noah. As if the room had to adjust to her. The light from the hallway settled on her silhouette for a moment. Fair skin. Soft features. A smile that wasn't a strategy. A smile that told him "I'm here" before he could say "watch out." Noah felt the familiar tension beneath his sternum. The same one that always returned whenever he saw her unexpectedly.
"Don't look at her like that." he thought. As if it ever mattered. Iris smiled at everyone—evenly, warmly, without hierarchy. She set her bag down at the table and, in one fluid movement, tied her hair high into a messy bun. An automatic gesture, learned from her body. One strand escaped from the hair tie and fell against her cheek. Noah remembered it immediately, because he always remembered things like that. Details that no one else considered important. And he longed to fix that lock of hair. Silver chain with the onyx stone moved slightly, brushing the skin near her collarbone. A center of gravity. An anchor. Something she wear close to her heart, even if she can't name it. He noticed that the chain was shorter today. Closer to the place where her collarbones met. - Hey. - she said softly, her voice cutting into his soul so sweetly. His fingertips trembled slightly, and the guitar string let out a soft groan. - Sorry to interrupt.
"Interrupting." Noah thought again. "You don't. He does."
And only then Christian enter. "The one" from working on visualizing ideas. The one from the lighting and stage design. A friend of Davis's who apparently really knew his job, which is why he joined the Bad Omens crew a few years ago. He stood beside Iris, but only instinctively. Noah saw it immediately—that empty space between them that no one would call distance until they knew where to look. Christian had his hands in his pockets. His gaze was averted. As if Iris's presence were an obligation, not a choice. - Is Noah and his idealism wearing you guys down, or what? - Chris said ironically, looking around the room. - You all look like you're at yours limits. - A few short laughs. The joke was dry, lacking warmth. Noah didn't look at him once. He couldn't, because his eyes would betray him. Iris smiled instinctively, smoothly, as if trying to soothe something that hadn't even come out yet. - Chris is tired and grumpy. - she said quickly, uncertainly, looking at the boy as if to make sure she hadn't overreacted. - The last few days have been intense. "Tired." singer snorted in his mind. Noah looked at Christian more closely. Half a step too far from Iris. No touch, though the situation almost invited him. A gaze that skimmed over equipment, walls, people—anything but her. And then he looked at Iris again. At how she once again took responsibility for coldness of her boyfriend. How she explained it without hesitation, how she protected something that had long since stopped protecting her. And Noah felt something. It wasn't anger, not yet. It was recognition. That moment when you see the crack before anyone dares to name it. Iris moved closer to the table, leaned over Bryan's laptop. Attentive, present, she asked questions, truly listened to the answers. Her attention was something she gave without calculation, as if it weren't currency. "Don't give yourself like that." Noah thought, looking at her. "Not to everyone. Just to me." But he didn't speak. He was afraid of his own voice. Afraid that if he opened his mouth, he would say too much. Or too honestly. Because the truth was uncomfortable and dangerous: Iris was exactly what he was forbidden to want. She wasn't loud, she wasn't attention-hungry, she wasn't trying to win anyone over. She was real. And Noah already knew—not yet how, not yet when—that if he allowed himself to look beyond that, if he allowed that feeling to grow even a millimeter, there would be no going back. Because when he looked at Iris, he didn't see who she was to others, but what the world had always overlooked. And he knew he would pay for that look.
The only question was: what price would he deem worth it?
Iris picked up her notebook and sat on the couch, as if jotting down what Bryan had told her.
- We can move this visual element more towards minimalism. - she said cautiously, lifting her gaze to Bryan. - Then the light will do more work than the artwork itself. - There was a brief silence, several glances turned her way. Noah looked up from his guitar. He noticed a slight tension in her shoulders—as if she were bracing herself for something she didn't want. - Hey, she's right. That makes more sense. - Nick said after a moment. - Less is more in this case. Harsh lights between the crowd and the stage will add drama. - Bryan nodded, already scrolling through the screen. Christian snorted softly after that. - Really? - he said sharply, as if envious that someone was doing his job without taking his eyes off his phone. - You came here as what exactly? For visuals or for good advice? - silence that fell was immediate and heavy. Iris froze. Her hand stopped mid-motion, the pen hovering over the paper. The smile that appeared on her face was too quick, too automatic. - I just… - she began, then stopped. - It was just a simple idea. - fingers automatically tightened on the uneven piece of onyx. - Exactly, just a simple idea. Don't talk about things you know nothing about. - Christian replied dryly. And then Noah felt something snap inside him. Not violently, but quietly, firmly, deeply. Like a fine line that couldn't be crossed—and which had just been trampled. He looked at Iris. At the way she took a step back inside her, the way her shoulders slumped ever so slightly, as if she'd accepted the blow without protest. At the way she was already preparing to take the blame. "I can't let Iris be treated like this”. - Noah thought. - I think she has more sense than you. She’s is more likely to do the work that belongs to you. - Noah said calmly, but something new entered his voice. Something hard. Interwoven with reluctance. - That was a really good point to be true. - Christian move his head up, surprised by the words. - I'm not saying it wasn’t… - Chris grumbled, looking him straight in the eye. - I'm just saying… it was just a joke. - There's nothing funny about it. - Noah glanced at him once and went back to writing something down in his notebook. - Iris has the right to speak her mind here. Just like any of us. - No one in the room moved. Jolly cleared his throat quietly, Michael looked away, Nick stopped smiling. Christian tensed, staring at Noah. - Relax. I told you I was joking. - It didn't sounds like. - Noah replied without hesitation. He didn't raise his voice because he didn't have to. A silence fell, unlike the previous ones. Attentive and vigilant. Iris glanced at Noah quickly, as if to silence him with a pleading look. But at the same time there’s something between gratitude and fear in her eyes. As if she were afraid she'd caused trouble. As if she were afraid someone would truly take her side. Noah looked away first. He didn't look away for her. He did it because he knew that if he looked any longer, he wouldn't back down a step.
- Um… okay. Back to work. - Bryan said, breaking the tension. - Minimalism might actually work better with this light. - conversation continued, but something had already changed. Iris sat quietly for the rest of the meeting. She took notes, listened and was present—but her smile faded. The onyx around her neck was gripped tighter than usual. Noah saw everything. And he knew he'd just accidentally taken the first step. Not towards her, but against whatever was hurting her. Perhaps this was the first step to becoming a shield.
After the meeting, Christian caught up with Noah in the hallway. - What the fuck was that, Noah? - he asked quietly but sharply. The tone wasn't a question. It was a warning. Noah stopped, lifted his head from his phone, and turned slowly, a faint, ironic smile on his face. - It was a reaction, Christian. - he replied calmly. Too calmly. - A reaction to something that shouldn't have happened. - Christian smiled briefly, without warmth. - You interrupted a conversation that didn't concern you. - he hissed. - She's my girlfriend, not yours. - Noah looked at him carefully. Not defiantly but analyzingly. Like someone who had long since stopped listening to words. - That's why I interrupted. - he finally said. Christian narrowed his eyes. - You don't seem to understand, Noah. - Christian snapped. - These are our issues. Our things. - Things stop being 'yours' when you embarrass her in front of everyone. - Noah replied calmly. Silence fell between them. Christian looked at him more closely. - You… - he began, then paused for a moment. - You observe everything. - It wasn't an accusation. It was a statement.
- Maybe I'm a good observer. Maybe I can see things that others would very much like to hide - Noah said calmly and slowly, staring intently into Christian's face. Chris swallowed, narrowing his eyes as if analyzing the singer's words. And then the corner of Noah's lips lifted slightly, provocatively, as if his gaze alone meant to say "I see EVERYTHING, Chris."
- Have you seen previous situations? - he asked more slowly. The uncertainty in Chris's voice was audible. - Not just today…? - he choked out as if caught red-handed. Noah didn't deny it, but he didn't confirm it either. He looked away for a moment, staring down the hallway. - I see things repeating themselves. - he finally said, returning his gaze to Christian, who clenched his jaw. - Don't overstep your bounds, Noah. - I'm not doing that. But if you put her in that situation in front of people again, I'll react. Every fucking time. - They stared at each other for a long moment. Christian looked away first. - Keep your place. - Chris snapped, walking away. Noah didn't answer, because they both knew one thing: Christian had just realized that Noah was seeing more than he should. And that he couldn't be ignored anymore.
Iris sat alone in the empty room, gathering her things. The echo of conversation had long since faded, leaving only the faint hum of lights. Her fingers trembled slightly as she tucked the notebook into her bag. Then, almost reflexively, she touched the onyx at her neck, as if checking if it was still there. As if afraid it would vanish if she let go. Only now, after everything, she feel the pain. Not the physical kind, but the aftermath. Humiliation came after shame. Shame came first… Quiet, sticky, the kind that tells you to sit up straight and not cause trouble. That tells you you're overreacting, that you could have handled it differently, more quietly. Then she remembered Noah's voice. So calm and confident. He wasn't agitated, he didn't speak aggressively. He'd stood by her side without asking if it was comfortable or if there would be any consequences.
Something inside her stirred.
It wasn't relief, but it wasn't joy either. It was a feeling of… safety. New. Unfamiliar. Almost uncomfortable in its newness. For the first time in a long time, she thought that maybe she wasn't exaggerating, that maybe she wasn't being overly sensitive after all, that maybe what hurt her was real and someone had seen it. She tightened her fingers around the chain and for the first time, she allowed herself to consider that she wasn't completely alone, and that someone watching closely could be both a threat… and a rescuer.
Another day at the office seemed ordinary at first glance. Like any other. To others, yes. For him - no.
Noah wasn't eavesdropping. He was just simply too close to overhear.
Iris was a few meters away, at the coffee machine. Next to her stood a girl from the technical team, one of those who always carried a thermos of tea and had a calm voice. The conversation was casual, punctuated by laughter, nothing that should have attracted attention. Yet, Noah couldn't tear his eyes away from Iris.
- What is it, Iris? A bruise? - the girl asked, reaching for the girl's shoulder.
- What? - Iris shivered, her eyes widening at the unexpected question. - That? Oh, no. It's nothing. - she replied quickly, backing away slightly. - Seriously. I'm a complete idiot. I just turned around the wrong way, someone caught me to keep me from falling. That’s all.
- But... It looks like someone dug their fingers into your collarbone… - girl replied cautiously, examining Iris. Iris gave a short, nervous laugh, clutching her onyx. - I have fair skin; it shows everything. - Noah felt the familiar tension beneath his sternum. Not because he'd heard the excuse. Because it was practiced. This wasn't the first time she'd do this. - Maybe… maybe cover it up? - girl muttered, more quietly. - You know… People like to gossip around here. - Exactly, damn it. - Christian interjected sharply, appearing beside them without warning. - Cover it, or they'll think I'm the one hurting you. - Noah looked up. Christian was standing too close to Iris. He hadn't touched her yet, but his presence was like a shadow cast across her back. Iris visibly shrank into herself, paling. - You’d really have to show it off like that? - Chris continued coldly. - It's hot, I know, but that doesn't mean you have to show it all. Hide your tits, Iris. - Iris stiffened after his words. - I… I'm not showing… It's just a regular shirt… - she replied calmly, yet her voice trembled with nerves and… fear? - It's just… - You just don't think, right? Like always. - he interrupted, grabbing the back of her neck. Noah flinched. The grip was deliberate, but he saw Christian's fingers dig warningly into Iris's skin. - People are watching. And I don't feel like explaining your oversights. - The girl standing next to them lowered her gaze, because it's always easier to pretend not to notice. She backed away, leaving without a word. Christian didn't even glance at her. - Put something on your shoulders for fuck’s sake. Or at least stop fidgeting so everyone can see. - He didn't raise his voice because he didn't need to. Iris nodded automatically. That one gesture, short and obedient, hit Noah harder than a scream. Christian left first. Iris stood still for a moment, then reached for her sweatshirt. She threw it on her shoulders, even though it was stifling. She didn't look at Noah. He didn't speak either. Only in the evening, after everyone had dispersed, was Noah left alone in the empty room. The lights were dim, the equipment hummed softly, as if the building were breathing at its own pace. He sat down at the table and pulled out his phone. Then he hesitated. "No.” he thought. "This has to be precise."
He reached for his notebook. The same one where he jotted down fragments of texts, ideas, single words that returned at night. He opened it and wrote the date on a blank page, then the first line. "The chain around his neck was shorter. Broken?"
Nect second line: "Mark on her collarbone. The shape of that fuckers fingers. Iris explains it by accident."
The third line: "Christian speaking over the bruises: 'Wear something. Don't expose it.' Tone: command, not concern."
He stopped the pen, closed his eyes. He pictured her movements, the way she automatically explained herself. The way she took the blame before anyone accused her. He added more points. "Iris always apologizes before anyone can tell something to her." "She always protects Christian." "Christian never protects her." He leaned his elbows on the table and focused on the letters. It wasn't jealousy, not yet… It was ordering the world according to his scheme. Noah was separating what was real from what, repeated long enough, began to sound normal. Noah closed the notebook and knew one thing: if these things needed to be written down, it meant someone had long since crossed the line. And this time, he wasn't going to pretend he didn't see it.
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