Chapter title from "Sound of A Broken Heart" by Jukebox the Ghost

Kiss Prompt: A kiss so passionate, so perfect - that after they part, neither person can open their eyes for a few moments afterwards

For the most part, Luke thinks that he and Julie remain professional.

And on stage, they do.

(Okay, the first time they publicly performed "Perfect Harmony" after Julie got her sparks, he may have fallen off his stool, but apparently the Boston crowd loved that. The label says fans find the whole "they're soulmates and sometimes singing together overwhelms them" thing cute.)

But off stage, it's sometimes a bit harder.

As the band stumbles off stage, the stadium crowd still cheering their encore of "Finally Free," Luke can tell this is going to be one of those times. Because Julie immediately tugs his guitar over his head and passes it to Reggie before she grabs Luke's hand and starts tugging him in the direction of her green room.

"Really? Again?" Alex groans, exasperated.

"Hey, you and Willie get all sparky over going to museums," Luke calls back over his shoulder.

"Because we're classy people! You are not being classy!"

Reggie scratches his head. "I still don't get the museums thing. Like, does your bond get all weird when you look at the same painting, or—"

As Julie tugs Luke through the doorway, the last thing he hears is Alex snap, "—we are not discussing my bond! Boundaries!"

As soon as they get inside the green room, Julie grabs onto Luke's shoulders and hops in the air, wrapping her legs around his waist. He catches her and spins them around as she pulls her lips to his, the bond between them firing around inside his heart like an electric current. "We have got to stop doing 'Finally Free' as an encore," she breathes into his mouth.

"I like 'Free' as an encore," he counters, tugging at her lips with his. "It always seems to end like this."

She laughs, the sound coming out shaky around her heavy breaths. "The bond is too revved up from the rest of the set. That bridge of yours is going to do real damage to my heart someday."

As the bond pulses with their joined heartbeats, his arms fumble, and he sets her down carefully on the edge of the makeup counter. "Are you saying I'm such a good songwriter that I make your heart stop?"

"Are you going to kiss me or gloat?"

He catches her exposed collarbone with his lips, chuckling into her skin. "Who says I have to choose?"

She threads her fingers through his hair, keeping his head close to her neck as he sucks his way up the smooth skin. "Careful," she gasps out. "We've got the Rolling Stone photoshoot tomorrow."

He immediately lessens the pressure of his lips, but can't help quipping back, "Obviously that would be the first time anyone's shown up to a Stone shoot with a hickey. The poor makeup artists would probably pass out from the indecency. What's next, loud music?"

Slipping his lips behind her ear, he nibbles gently on the skin and grins victoriously at her breathy inhale. Then he slides his nose around the curve of her earlobe and drags it across her jaw as he pulls his lips toward her mouth. Before he can kiss her, she shakes her head. "Why do I put up with you?"

"I ask myself that every day," he rasps back. It's a sign of the difference the past year has made that there's no bitterness in his tone or his heart. Obviously there are still days when he doubts himself, but twelve months of Julie Molina unabashedly gazing at him like he's the fucking sun makes it hard to doubt the depth or sincerity of her love. Especially at times like these, when the bond curls between them like the flames of a bonfire, reminding him that destiny has linked them together. Whether for music or love, he doesn't know that it matters.

Julie seizes the front of his shirt and yanks his mouth to hers.

By now, Luke has mostly gotten used to the feeling of the double-sided bond. The days of almost passing out whenever they kiss are mostly behind them, and he's able to focus on the actual physical sensations of kissing her.

… and then there are kisses after gigs or intense rehearsals, when the bond feels like a firecracker or a wildfire or a bomb going off in his chest. Something so intense that it almost scalds his soul. He's dimly aware of her mouth moving around his, open and hot and wet. Of the pleasant scrape of her fingernails against his scalp. Of her body, still warm from the stage and snug against his. But the bond overwhelms it all until he can't breathe and it feels like every single one of his skin cells is dancing to a different beat.

He pulls back with a gasp and rests his forehead against hers, eyes closed as he tries to ground himself back in reality.

When his breath finally comes out of his lungs at a more normal pace, he opens his eyes to find that hers are still closed, chest still heaving. Something about the simple reminder of how mutual their bond is further soothes the ache of the six years he spent convinced that it wouldn't be.

"You can change anything on the set list you like. Just please not 'Free,'" he begs.

A blissful smile spreads over her lips as she finally blinks her eyes open, and she nods. "Okay," she whispers faintly.

He nudges her nose with his. "I love you."

"And I love you."