The car ride back to Saskatoon seemed to take longer than it had taken them to get out to Greenhead in the first place.

After Trent had pulled over to let Cody vomit his Meat Shower Tower on the side of the road, Harold got back behind the wheel. "If you need to vomit again, I'll pull over," he'd said to Cody.

As they finally reached the highway, Cody was leaning his head against the window, his breath fogging up the glass. Gwen had returned to finishing her earlier drawing. Trent gazed out the window with his arms folded. Harold tapped his fingers against the steering wheel in a repetitive rhythm.

Ezekiel was sitting silent and stony-faced.

Old Johnny wasn't leaving him alone. The look on his parents' faces wasn't leaving him alone. And the door wasn't leaving him alone.

The door. With its deep wine colour and enormous lock and its muddy footprint that didn't belong there…

He couldn't stop thinking about it. He squirmed in his seat and tried to focus on the lights of passing cars, each one lighting up the overcast sky in his memories. The boxes and their contents jiggled noisily at every bump.

No one was speaking or making a sound, save for Harold tapping his fingers. Thud thud thud, over and over again. It was relentless. He must have a good tune going in his head.

As Ezekiel found himself walking up to the house with its door all wonky and wrong, the tapping accompanied his every footstep like an ominous bassline soundtracking the moment. When he reached the porch, the tapping seemed to increase in intensity, until it was all he could focus on. It pounded in his ears just as loud as his heart as he took his first step inside the house, in complete disarray.

Through the kitchen, then the living room, broken glass twinkling in the light like dangerous diamonds…the shadows watching his every move in the hallway…the doorknob ready to electrocute him from all the tension in the air…

Ezekiel sat up, as if he really had been electrocuted. "Paper!" he demanded. "Pen and paper!"

Cody groggy lifted his head from the window. "Huh?"

"Hurry up! Before I forget!"

Gwen grabbed Cody's notebook and handed it to him. Before Cody could protest, Ezekiel had already flipped to a blank page and began scribbling away frantically in it.

The three in the backseat watched him. They all shared a confused glance. What had gotten Zeke all worked up like that?

"What are you-" Trent started, before immediately getting shushed. Even Harold cast a side glance at that.

Lit up only by passing headlights, Ezekiel worked quickly. He had to get it all down before it left his mind. His fingers were already sore from how tightly he was gripping the pen, but he ignored it. He could worry about that later.

'Later' turned out to only be a few minutes. At that time, Ezekiel dropped the pen and leaned back, reading back over what he just wrote. He exhaled slowly, nodding to himself. Yeah, that seemed pretty good. It seemed to convey all the right emotions.

"So, what were you writing?" Gwen asked.

Ezekiel simply handed the notebook back to her wordlessly. The other three instantly started poring over it.

Once again, the car fell silent.

Ezekiel looked back to see their expressions change from curiosity to confusion to realisation to horror. That just made him feel more satisfied with his work.

"What is it?" Harold wanted to know. "What did he write?"

"He wrote a song," Trent said, still horrified.

"About what?"

"About Old Johnny."

Harold faced Zeke, eyebrows shooting up towards his hairline. "You wrote about Old Johnny? Why?"

Ezekiel shrugged his shoulders. "I just felt like I had to, eh. I was listening to you tapping your fingers, and it kinda just worked itself into my memories…if that makes sense."

"Read it out to me." Harold ordered.

Gwen cleared her throat.

"The shadows belie the danger,

The diamond shards cut your soul,

The electricity powers the dread,

Open the door, see the old man dead.

Clouds hide the sun,

Birds hide the fear,

But over there's the old red door,

With a print that don't belong there.

The silence jumps you with a start,

The table greets you legs up,

Who is in here with me,

What's going on? How could this be?

The hallway stretches on forever,

My heart pummels against my ribs,

I guess this ain't his house now,

'Cause someone else wanted dibs.

Shadows, diamonds, birds, clouds,

It all smashes inside my head,

All I can see is the old red door,

Behind it, the old man dead.

Beside it, Ezekiel had also scribbled what appeared to be a series of notes with a time signature and key. Trent and Cody were quick to take note of this.

"Dude just wrote an entire song on the fly," Trent was amazed. "I've never heard of anyone doing it that quickly."

"I didn't write an entire song," Ezekiel corrected. "I just wrote the words. And a couple other things. Harold's finger-tapping helped inspire me. I think the main instrument should be a bass. A really ominous one. To make the listener feel the same feeling of dread that I did."

"When we get back home, we're finishing it." Harold said staunchly. "That's gotta be the best song Zeke's ever written so far."

"High praise," Gwen murmured.

"No, seriously. I think we should put it on the album."

Trent blinked. "Uh…I'm not disagreeing with you, but isn't it a little too soon to make a decision like that? Like, the lyrics are good and all, but it's pretty dark. We agree to make the album nostalgic, but calling that nostalgic seems kinda insulting to Old Johnny."

"That's it though, isn't it?" Cody said. "Nostalgia is just a really old feeling, right? Besides, who said it has to be light-hearted? I for one think we should include it on the album."

Harold gestured with his thumb. "What he said. We're not squandering Zeke's talent because it's too dark. That's not exactly staying true to ourselves."

"Wow, eh." Zeke smiled weakly. "I'm really glad you like it." He paused. "Maybe I can do something happier for my next song."

"Don't force yourself."

"Hey, Trent," Cody spoke up. "Have you heard back from Jerome yet?"

Trent took a cursory glance at his phone. "Nope. Not yet. Then again, it's one-thirty in the morning. He wouldn't even be awake yet."

"Great! More time to work on the songs!" Ezekiel said.

"Jeez, dude. Can't we just go home and go to sleep first?" Trent ran a hand through his hair.

"Did you know that people who don't get a full eight hour's sleep each night tend to have more sociopathic traits?" Harold interjected.

"Lovely."

"Sleep sounds good right now." Cody rested his head back against the window.

"Mind if I take a page from your notebook to draw again?" Gwen asked.

"Sure."

Gwen flipped a couple of pages and then stopped. As her eyes scanned the words written on the page, all thoughts of doing another drawing left her mind. She nudged Trent with her elbow and thrust the notebook into his face. "Ohmigod, you have to read this."

Trent took the notebook from her and squinted at it. As he too read what was written, his face cracked a huge smile. "Whoa," he breathed, not bothering to stifle a giggle. "Cody…wow…"

Cody sat up, and only then did he realise what was happening. "Hey, don't read that!" He lunged at the notebook, but the seatbelt - and Gwen - prevented him from reaching it.

"Too late!" Gwen cried gleefully. "Zeke, catch!" She grabbed it from Trent and tossed it into the front seat, well out of Cody's reach.

Ezekiel picked it up and scanned it curiously. When he read it, his lips formed an 'o' shape.

"Yo Harold, check this out!" He waved it around in front of Harold's face.

Harold brushed him off. "Dude, I'm driving! Read it out to me!"

"Nooo!" Cody thumped his fists pathetically against the back of Ezekiel's seat.

It only seemed to egg the others on further. "Read it out, Zeke!" Gwen shouted, her eyes gleaming mischievously. "Sorry Cody, but this is too good for you to hide away forever!"

Ezekiel began thusly:

"In the yellow afternoon sun,

Your features shine like sweet flower buds.

You suck the poison right out of my soul,

Mistakes and lies fly out the window,

I can't believe you do this to me.

The storm clouds rumble and the rain begins to fall,

Before we know it it could drown us all,

But you chase them away and dry them from my face,

You let the light seep into my quiet place,

I can't believe you do this to me.

In the quiet afternoon sun,

Your features shine like sweet flower buds,

And your smile is worth the weight I bear,

I know we'll always remain right here.

The dark corners of my childhood bedroom,

Are haunted by my doom and gloom,

In you come, all pomp and circumstance,

To take me away, and to let me dance,

I can't believe you do this to me.

In the streaming afternoon sun,

Your features shine like sweet flower buds,

And your smile makes my whole world turn,

Makes my heart feel like it's going to burn.

Ooooh, ooooh,

Dewy petals in the sun,

You'll always be my only one,

Ooooh, ooooh,

My day's only just begun,

I already feel like I've won.

In the frail afternoon sun,

Your features shine like sweet flower buds,

And your smile was shown around the world,

The beautiful way your lips were curled.

In the sun,

In the sun,

In the sun…"

The car was completely silent as Harold processed what he'd just heard; the others eagerly awaiting his reaction. Cody buried his face in his hands and turned away.

Then Harold started to snigger. Gwen joined in. Trent and Ezekiel wore huge grins on their faces, and their laughter seeped into their voices.

To Cody, it was mortifying beyond belief.

Cody groaned, digging his fingers into his head. He leaned forward so the others wouldn't see how red his face had become.

Gwen paused to wipe a tear from her eye. "Okay, that's hilariously adorable."

"I know," Trent agreed. "Leave it to Cody to fawn over Noah like that."

"How do you know it's about Noah, eh?" Ezekiel asked.

"Who else would Cody write a sappy love song about?"

"Oh…"

Cody groaned again. Gwen playfully slapped him on the back. "Oh, Cody. When you fall for someone, you fall hard, don't you?"

Cody lifted his head and looked up at her. He appeared to be on the verge of his tears, judging by the way his eyes watered and his lower lip trembled. Gwen's smile dropped away instantly.

"Oh, uh…I…I'm not trying to be mean, I swear. I was just teasing!" She put her hand on his back again, but more comforting this time.

"That was meant to be private, Gwen," Cody's voice wavered. "I wasn't even sure if I wanted to show it to Noah, let alone you guys."

There was no more laughter now. The other boys glanced at each other guiltily.

"Sorry," Ezekiel said shamefully, rubbing his neck. "I just thought it was funny." Realising how mean that still sounded, he quickly rushed to clarify. "Uh, I mean, in like, a sappy way."

"I'm sorry too," Trent added. "It just sorta reminded me about the kind of songs you used to write about Gwen. Y'know, back in our early days…"

"I know," Cody sighed despondently. "I just…really wanted to make it something special. Even if I decided not to show anyone, I still wanted it to be perfect. I even wrote it to be a synth-pop song. Noah loves synth-pop."

"Noah loves synth-pop?" Trent whispered to Gwen. She shrugged.

"Why don't you play it for us when we get home?" Harold suggested. Seeing Cody glare at him suspiciously in the rear-view mirror, he elaborated. "We won't laugh, I promise. Besides, maybe it'll sound better with the music. And if you want, we can help you rewrite it."

The suggestion made Cody uncomfortable. "I'll think about it…" he said uneasily.

"Man," Gwen remarked, "you guys sure can write music really quickly."

"Anyone can write a song quickly," Harold said, "but very few can write a good song quickly. That takes actual skill."

"He's right." Trent told her. "Some of my worst songs were the ones I wrote in less than an hour."

"What about the one you played for us earlier?" Zeke asked. "Didn't you say you came up with that one almost immediately?"

"That was an exception."

Gwen was amazed. "That's…three songs you guys have written already? At this rate, you'll have that new album of yours done in no time."

Cody sat up. "We're not putting my song on the album, are we?" He panicked.

"Only if you want us too," Harold reassured him.

"Uh…no."

"Fair enough. Anyway, when do you guys think we should release it?"

"It's too soon to think about that," Trent sighed, though he decided to humor Harold this time and think about it. "Before the end of the year, I guess."

"I'm down for whenever," Cody said. Ezekiel nodded in agreement.

"I was looking for a specific date, you know." Harold said. "I was thinking sometime in September and October."

Trent's eyes widened. "Are you nuts? There's no way we'd finish in time!"

"Well, Gwen did just point out how fast we can write songs." Harold waved his hand nonchalantly.

"I'm sure you guys will pull through." Gwen encouraged.

Trent's phone chose that precise moment to buzz loudly in his pocket. He pulled it out, squinting as the bright light flooded his face. As he read the message, his eyebrows shot straight up into his hairline.

"What is it?" Cody asked, taking note of Trent's expression.

"Speaking of working on our album…"

"Yeah?"

"Jerome just texted."

"Read it out." Harold demanded.

Trent cleared his throat. "Dude, it's really early in the morning. I don't know why this couldn't have waited until later, but whatever. It's good to hear you're in Saskatoon right now, because that's where I am, too. You can swing by the Algorhythm recording studio at two tomorrow, and bring any demo tracks you have. Looking forward to seeing you again; it's been a while, hasn't it?"

"Algorhythm Studios, huh?" Harold mused. "We haven't been there in a long while, haven't we?"

"I feel weird just thinking about it," Cody commented.

"I've never been," Ezekiel chimed in.

"Better not waste this second chance," Gwen told them.

"You guys, we don't even have demo tracks yet!"

"Oh. Right." Harold gripped the steering wheel a little tighter. "We'd better hurry home and record something. Zeke, we should play that song you wrote. Trent, yours too. And Cody-"

"No!" Cody folded his arms. "It's meant to be private!"

"But then we wouldn't have enough songs to show them-"

"We can go through our notes and see what we can scrape together," Trent butted in.

Zeke was quiet for a few seconds, deep in thought. "I hope they like what we have to offer," he muttered.

But only time would tell how well their return to the music industry would be received.

The five of them returned to Harold's house right as the dashboard clock hit 3 AM. By that point, everyone was well and truly exhausted.

As quietly as they could, they crept back into the house and into the basement single-file. Ezekiel immediately headed for his bed. Trent, Cody and Harold crawled into their sleeping bags. Gwen, still apparently tagging along for whatever would happen next, crashed on the couch.

All of them were out like a light. They were so tired that none of them even stirred until eleven in the morning.

Ezekiel was the first one to wake up. He was in his small basement bedroom. The door was open and he could see Gwen's legs on the couch. He was lying on his bed, on top of the covers. He hadn't even bothered to change out of his clothes.

Ezekiel yawned and shifted around to lay on his other side. As he did so, he felt something firm in his hoodie pocket resting against his stomach. He reached in and pulled it out. It was the stack of photos he'd taken from his desk.

The first photo he saw was an old one of his parents, taken when they were younger at some point in the late seventies. They were wrapping each other in massive hugs, smiling widely. It made him wonder whether they were always assholes, or if growing up changed them somehow.

The next photo was of him hugging a ratty stuffed bear. He looked about two or three years old. It made him smile, and he set it aside.

The next few photos were also of him - hugging Spot, his first pet cow; blowing out the candles on his birthday cake; dressed up in his dad's old leather jacket and standing next to an eternally grumpy Old Johnny. Seeing himself so young and carefree, not knowing what was to befall him later in life…it brought a tear to his eye.

Then he came to one that made him stop.

He was about four years old. Damaris was fourteen. They were sitting on the old wooden bench in the garden, surrounded by the shadows cast by the trees and bushes. They had their arms around each other, beaming at the camera. They both looked so unbearably happy.

It hurt.

And all of a sudden, Ezekiel's mind was abruptly taken over by the last memory he had of her. It was invading his mind like a scene from a sad movie.

He was seven years old. Damaris was seventeen. He'd woken up to shouting from downstairs. His clock told him it was nearly midnight.

He climbed out of bed, tiptoed down the staircase, and crouched down at the halfway point. There, he could hear the arguing more clearly, though it was still hard to make out exactly what was being said. He rubbed the sleep from his eyes and tried to focus as hard as he could.

It was Damaris screaming at their parents, who were screaming back at her. He knew that much. His whole body trembled; not just from the cold air of the house, but from fear. The screaming sounded half-deranged. He hugged the bannister as though it would protect him should things go further south.

The only words he managed to catch came at the very end. His father yelled, "How dare you disrespect your own parents?"

Then Damaris shouted back, "I'd rather die than stay here another day! You don't deserve my fucking respect!"

Then came the loud and angry footsteps. Damaris emerged from the kitchen, a backpack slung over her shoulder. Her face was downright murderous. She headed straight for the front door. But then she stopped and turned around. She locked eyes with Ezekiel, and her face lost some of its fire.

"Oh, hello," she said, a lot calmer than before. "I didn't know you were awake. Did we wake you?"

Ezekiel remembered only stiffly nodding.

Then, Damaris suddenly rushed up the stairs and swept him up into a massive hug. Ezekiel had no idea how to respond. He still felt the chill of fear in his bones. What was going on?

"I'm gonna miss you," Damaris murmured. "Don't worry about anything, okay? I'll only be gone for a little while. You'll be fine."

Then, just as suddenly, she descended the stairs and disappeared through the front door into the night.

And then, his parents came out from the kitchen. His mother, with tears in her eyes, yelled at him to go back to bed. His mother almost never yelled at him. That was usually his dad's job.

He curled up in bed that night, unsure what to make of what he just witnessed. Why was Damaris leaving? When was she coming back? Why were their parents so angry with her?

But Ezekiel would never find out.

Every attempt to ask, every attempt to sneak into Damaris' bedroom for clues, every attempt to poke around the house…all of it was harshly punished. His parents completely stonewalled him. Shut him out without a care or a cause. The only thing said on the matter was, "She ran away because she hated living on the farm."

Ezekiel knew deep down that that wasn't true.

And yet, he was forced to just accept it. He had to move on with his life and never speak of her again. That was what his parents did, and it was what was expected of him, too.

No matter how often he obeyed his parents, sometimes he just had to disobey them. He never stopped thinking about her. He never forgot her. He was never going to just keep this under the rug where it had been swept…

But what could he do about it? That was the real question.

"Hey, dude."

Startled, Ezekiel dropped the photos onto his duvet. He looked up to see Harold in the doorway. His hair was messy and his clothes were rumpled. "Oh, hi. What's up?"

"I was just coming to say that we should probably record something to show the studio." Harold sat down on the edge of the bed. "We only have a few hours, and…what are these?" He gingerly picked up one of the photos.

"Just some stuff I grabbed from my drawer," Ezekiel responded. He saw that Harold had grabbed the one with him and his pet cow.

"Hah, cute." Harold reached out to grab another photo. Just Ezekiel's luck, it happened to be another one of Damaris, one in which she was seated on the couch watching TV. Harold stared at it curiously. "Who's this?"

"Uhhh…" For some reason, Ezekiel's tongue started tying itself into a giant knot. His whole heart seized. "N-Nothing. Don't worry about it."

Harold raised an eyebrow but decides not to mention the photo. "So anyway, are you still feeling okay? About last night?"

Ezekiel couldn't muster a response to that. He never wanted to see his parents again, and yet…the events of last night felt so…final. Too final.

That afternoon in Hawaii, the same afternoon Total Drama World Tour ended, the same afternoon he called home only to find out that it was no longer being considered his home…Then that night aboard the party boat, where even the music and drinks and everyone's smiles still couldn't make him forget how gutted he felt.

Retrieving his stuff was the final nail in the coffin. Now he can never go back.

The only way he could articulate all that to Harold at that moment was to simply shrug.

Harold seemed to know better than to pry deeper at the moment. Instead, he simply said, "You know you can tell us if something's up, right?"

Ezekiel felt a lump in his throat. "Yeah, dude. I know."

Why is he being so secretive right now? He doesn't have to hide anything anymore.

"It's important to have a robust support system," Harold carried on, his voice taking on a solemn edge. "You need to have some kind of outlet. Like how Cody always talks with Noah about his problems." He chewed on his lower lip. "...So, I know my mom isn't really around much. And my brother and sister don't really care. But I care. Trent and Cody care. We're here for you."

Harold seemed unnaturally serious for once. Slightly more so than last night, Ezekiel thought. Maybe it was the mention of his family. Maybe it was making Harold think about the stability of his own home life. Hopefully he won't have the rug pulled out from under his feet like Zeke had.

But still, Zeke didn't like this feeling. The whole idea that families are supposed to be safe, when clearly some of them aren't. He knew it wasn't really his fault, but he couldn't help but wonder…

Okay. That's enough. He couldn't keep moping about his parents like this. He had stuff to do today.

Speaking of which…

"I should show you guys the song," he told Harold. "The one I wrote last night, remember? If we're gonna show the record label, then I gotta teach you how to play it."

Harold remembered. "Oh yeah. I've been waiting to hear that. I really want to know what it'll sound like when everything's put together."

"I'll need to borrow your keyboard, if that's okay."

"Yeah, fine by me."

Ezekiel leapt off the bed and headed into the other room, stepping over Trent and Cody to reach Harold's keyboard in the corner. He pulled it out and began setting up.

Harold wandered over and nudged the two sleeping boys. "Hey, get up."

The only response from either of them was Cody murmuring something that couldn't be made out.

Harold nudged him harder. "Dude, wake up. Zeke wants to show us his song."

Cody swatted his foot away. "Go away Noah, it's not time for pancakes yet…"

"DUDE!"

That woke him up. And Trent. A thud from close by also indicated that Gwen just rolled off the couch.

"Urgh," Gwen groaned. "What the-"

"I need to show you guys how to play my song. Remember, the one from last night?"

Trent blinked wearily. "Oh, okay. Hey, didn't you say you needed bass in it?"

"Yeah. You can play it. It's really easy." Ezekiel reached for another pen and paper. He took a few minutes to scribble something down. Cody and Trent took the time to wake themselves up properly.

"What time is it?" Cody asked.

Harold glanced at the clock. "Half past eleven."

Cody's eyes widened. "Didn't Jerome say we have to be at the studio by two?"

"Yes. Which means we have to hurry things up."

Gwen picked herself up off the floor, rubbing her head. Her eyes had large dark bags under them. She gave a loud yawn before speaking. "What else are you gonna play, anyway?"

"This song, Trent's song…" Harold counted off on his fingers, trailing off. "We need to find something else. At least one more song."

Trent reached for the notebook in which he wrote all of his songs. He too gave a massive yawn as he flicked through the pages. He skimmed over his barely legible handwriting, his half-baked notes and chord progressions swimming in front of his tires eyes. "I have no idea what we should do, you guys. I've got nothing."

"Me neither," Cody said, looking through his own notebook.

Harold felt a lump in his throat as the realization hit him: it was probably way too soon to start planning another album. All they really had were two songs - both unfinished - and a vague concept to go off of. Maybe they weren't ready to get back into show business…

He viciously struck that thought from his head. No. He couldn't let them be dragged down. They were the Drama Brothers. If they managed to get famous off a pure whim the first time around, then they could do it again.

Music was one of the most important things in his life, and he'd be damned if some hotshot producer told him his art was worthless.

He snapped his head around to face Ezekiel, so fast that it made him dizzy. "You ready to show us what you got, Zeke?"

"Yuh-huh!" He showed the paper he'd been working on. It was crudely drawn sheet music. He passed it on to Trent and pointed at one half of the page. "That's what I want you to play, okay?"

"Yeah, sure." Trent grabbed his bass, which had been resting on its stand in the corner. He studied the notes carefully. "When do you want me to start?"

"Now, please." Ezekiel's fingers hovered over the keyboard, poised and ready.

After a moment to prepare himself, Trent began. The string of notes that he played was deep, dark and ominous. It filled the whole basement with its vibrating rhythm. Cody, Harold and Gwen immediately settled themselves in to listen intently.

For a long while, the bass was the only thing that was being played. Evidently, there were supposed to be drums somewhere in there, but alas, they had none.

But the moment when Ezekiel joined in with his keyboard and voice was the moment that had them all truly captivated.

His voice was the star of the show. Gone was any sort of humor or warmth. All there was was a sense of dread and unknowing. The keyboard only added to the effect with how stripped back and subdued it was.

The entire experience was truly haunting. It made you feel like you were the one in the ruined house.

Once the song ended, and it took everyone a while to say anything afterwards, they knew they had a masterpiece on their hands.

"Oh my god," Gwen seemed especially impressed. "Zeke, I never knew you could write music like that."

"We have to put that on the album!" Cody exclaimed; a sentiment shared by everyone else.

"It'll knock everyone's socks off!" Harold said proudly. "Between this and Trent's song, there's no way they'll turn us down!"

"I really hope so," Ezekiel replied. "I don't want anyone to think it's too edgy, eh."

"They won't." Trent tried his best to reassure him, although it was easy to tell that he was still extremely nervous about this whole thing.

If there was one thing that Trent and Harold could both agree on, it was that music was incredibly important. It wasn't just an art form; it was a form of self-expression. It was always there in the background, as a consistent part of memories.

So to have his work be scrutinized by studio executives who've probably never picked up an instrument in their lives was…unbelievably nerve-wracking.

But this was part of the process. An incredibly sucky part.

There was no way around this. They would have to go into the studio and have their performance picked apart by whoever would be there. Damn, he didn't remember forming the band in the first place to be this stressful.

But regardless, carrying it on was going to be stressful in its own way.

Still, Trent reasoned, it was better than being forced to become a lawyer or an accountant.

Algorhythm Studios occupied its own space squeezed in between a cafe and a subway sandwich shop. The record label had studios in every major Canadian city, but the Saskatoon branch was tiny compared to the one in Toronto or Vancouver. It was a squat grey building, perfectly boring and unassuming on the outside. If you didn't know it was a recording studio, you would never have guessed it.

At ten minutes past two in the afternoon, Harold's car pulled into the parking lot behind the building. Everyone inside was mentally preparing themselves for whatever was going to happen next.

Harold was determined.

Ezekiel was excited.

Trent was anxious.

Cody was desperate.

And Gwen, still along for the ride, was hopeful.

The five of them made their way through the glass doors and into the lobby. The receptionist, sitting at a shiny marble desk and talking on the phone, glanced up. As soon as she saw them, she gave them a nod of recognition and gestured to a door off to the side.

Through the door, and down the brown and beige hallway that followed it, they came to a door at the very end. It was the room where the instruments were kept.

Opening the door, the three original Drama Brothers were hit with the familiar scent of dusty furniture and cheap air freshener. When they had first stepped into this room a year and a half prior, it had actually calmed them somewhat. Now, it made them even more on edge.

This room was the biggest one in the studio. The walls were lined with shelves housing various makes and models of different instruments. Many of them hadn't been cleaned in what seemed like decades and were coated in inches of dust. One corner had a small raised platform used specifically for playing these instruments. A worn out sofa sat back from this corner, facing it. It was also dusty. It was a far cry from the studio's branch in Toronto, where everything was made from marble of some colour.

But it would have to do.

"Wow," Gwen said, mostly to herself, as she took in the entire room. "This is…more low-key than I was expecting."

"The one in Toronto is much nicer," Cody explained. "I honestly kinda forgot how crappy this place is."

Harold grabbed a keyboard off the shelf and dragged it over to the platform. He leaned in and blew a cloud of dust from the surface. It filled the air instantaneously. The others all choked and gagged on it.

"I'm opening a window," Trent said in between wheezes.

Ezekiel walked over as Harold began doing a quick sound check on the keyboard. It was the exact same model as the one back home. "Can I have a go, eh?"

"Sure." Harold moved over and let Ezekiel mash some of the keys, giggling to himself.

"Aaah," Trent sighed, his head sticking out of the open window. "Fresh air…"

"You mean the fresh air of a dirty parking lot," Gwen sniggered.

"Hey, it's still better than breathing in a lungful of dust."

Cody joined him at the window. "Move over, dude. I need some air too."

Trent didn't just move over; he was straight-up jostled away from the window by a bony elbow. He shrugged, deciding it was time to get a guitar, anyway.

One of the bottom shelves held the only acoustic guitar in the whole building. It too was so dusty it looked like a coat of fur. He grabbed it as well as a bass from the next shelf up. He carried them over to the platform, then wiped his hands on his trousers. "Ick," he murmured.

Exactly one minute later, right as Trent was plugging in the bass, the door swung open. Immediately, everyone's heads swiveled round to watch.

Jerome Adams, a middle-aged man with shaggy brown hair and spindly limbs, entered the room first, dressed casually in a red jacket and beige pants. He greeted them with a friendly, warm smile. But it quickly disappeared once the next person came in.

Stepping through the door was another middle-aged man, maybe a bit older than Jerome, balding, with a large pot belly. He wore an expensive black three-piece suit with shiny black leather shoes. A pair of designer sunglasses sat upon his enormous nose. Instead of a smile, the corners of his mouth were turned sharply downwards.

The Drama Brothers nearly fainted on the spot.

That man was Apollo Applesmith. The owner of Algorhythm Studios.

A terribly awkward and fearful silence blanketed the room as the two parties took each other in. Then, Jerome tried to put on another smile. "Hello, boys. Long time, no see. As you can see…we have some company today."

Apollo gave a loud cough.

"I-I-I…We…uh, w-weren't expecting you," Trent stammered.

"Well, when Jerome informed me that you lot were back together, I decided to stop by to see how it goes," Apollo's tone was cold. 'You know, you boys caused a ton of embarrassment for us last time. And knowing your type, you'll probably do it all over again. That's usually how it goes with boy bands. But, I thought I might as well see what you've got." The dim light reflected off his sunglasses in a menacing curve.

All four of them gulped.

It was now or never. Time to show Apollo what they've done.

Ezekiel situated himself at the keyboard. Trent picked up the bass, fingers poised and at the ready. Cody and Harold stood off to the side. They had nothing to do at the moment. It made them feel totally helpless.

Ezekiel took a deep breath, trying to will his hands to stop shaking so much. "One, two, three…"

He and Trent began the song, much like how they did only a couple hours earlier in Harold's basement. It was just as haunting as the first time, too. Despite the fact they still had no percussion, they still hoped the song would be good enough.

Throughout the song, Jerome's face morphed from curiosity to surprise. Apollo remained emotionless.

"Please don't mess up, please don't mess up…" Ezekiel thought to himself.

There were a couple of moments where he thought he missed a note, and his brain sent a jolt through his body, but he held steadfast. Besides, he never actually missed a note. It was just his fear going to his head.

When the song came to its solemn end, the room was silent for a moment. Jerome was still awestruck. Apollo was still stony-faced. Cody and Harold gasped each other's wrists. Gwen was on edge. Ezekiel and Trent held their breaths.

Then, Apollo spoke. "What the hell was that about?"

Ezekiel's heart just about stopped.

"Talk about a dramatic change of tune," Apollo carried on. "I came here expecting your usual teen boy ballards, only to hear…that. It's such a wild tonal shift. It's going to throw a lot of people off. In fact, I'd say it'd probably alienate your entire fanbase. This is not the comeback I wanted to hear."

Before those words could even sink in, Jerome piped up. "Well, I thought it was great. You've really developed as songwriters."

Harold stepped forward. "We wanted to try nuking music that's more personal to us. The whole album's supposed to be based on our own emotions and experiences."

Apollo waved an uninterested hand at him. "Yeah yeah, heard it all before. Now, do you have any other songs for us to sit through?"

"Y-Yes…" Trent swallowed. He swapped the bass for the acoustic guitar. "Uh, this is something I-I've been working on for a while now…"

"Skip the backstory and let us hear it. I have an afternoon tea reservation in half an hour."

So Trent seated himself on a nearby chair and began to nervously strum his nostalgic song.

Despite his anxiety, it still painted a picture of that smoky and brightly lit night in Toronto, sitting on the roof of a hotel. Harold and Gwen, in particular, felt a strange sense of longing for those sorts of nights, when the future seemed even more uncertain than it did right now. Which was saying something. And it made Cody recall all the jam sessions they'd had way back when Total Drama Action was still ongoing.

Hopefully, it would have a similar effect on Apollo and Jerome.

Trent finished the song and exhaled as quietly as he could, as if the slightest noise of his would spell disaster.

"Wow," Jerome said. "That was great. It reminds me of when I was younger, when I used to go roaming around the streets of Toronto in the middle of the night. Those sure were the days."

A spark of hope bloomed in the boys' chests. "T-That's what I was going for," Trent replied.

"Is that it?" Apollo's lips were pursed.

"Uh…"

"No vocals? No other instrumentation? Don't you think it sounds unfinished?" He sighed out of frustration. "Got anything else for me?"

"No, sir-"

"So that's it? You show me two unfinished songs and expect me to just take you back? Just like that?" His sunglasses made his eyes seem like cold, unfeeling pits of despair. "I don't think you truly understand how much trouble you caused us last time. Especially the whole skinny dipping incident. And when Harold decided to leave. We didn't sign you on for petty drama. We did it because your music was safe and easy. Plus, with that Total Drama show still being popular, we knew you'd be selling lots of records."

It was a swift punch to the gut. But Apollo didn't stop there. He kept going, stabbing and slicing at them with his words.

"Sure, you're still popular, but your reputations as musicians have been forever tarnished. No one will ever take you seriously ever again. You'll be a laughing stock. It'll be all that anyone will remember you for. And we can't have anyone like that working for us. Between your whole debacle, that Noisecloud rapper and that crazy girl group, this whole studio is on the verge of complete and utter embarrassment. Remember your old manager? The one you had problems with? Because of his involvement with you, he's been blacklisted from other studios. He works at Walmart now. Because of you."

Apollo gave them a once-over through his sunglasses, took note of their crushed expressions, and sneered.

"Listen boys, you need to face it. Your heyday is over. Now, if you have nothing else for me, then I'd better be on my way." And with that, Apollo turned to leave. Jerome shot them an apologetic glance.

"Wait!" Cody suddenly cried. "We have another song to show you!"

"We do?" Ezekiel said, confused.

"Do you just?" Apollo turned, raising an eyebrow.

Cody nodded. "But, um…I'm the only one who can perform it, though."

The other three Drama Brothers realized, with a jolt, what song he was referring to.

Apollo nodded. "Whatever, then. Show me what you've got."

Cody fiddled around with his keyboard, hands shaking, then took a deep breath and began the song.

Even though Trent, Harold and Ezekiel had been making fun of the song only hours ago, they had to admit: the lyrics paired nicely with the music. The keyboard riff was a clear echo of synthpop hits from decades past. It felt empty without any percussion, but hopefully not enough to hinder it in Apollo's mind.

The singing, however, was the real star of the song. Cody poured so much emotion into his voice; the passion in his words seeping out and filling the room like a sweet perfume. It was obvious: Cody had written this song from the very depths of his heart.

Over the course of the next three minutes, they watched in amazement as the expression on Apollo's face suddenly shifted from smug apathy to a teary smile. He looked to be on the verge of tears. Never before had they seen him in such a state. It was pretty freaky, how quickly he changed. Even Jerome was staring at him in shock.

When Cody finished playing, all was silent for a few moments. Apollo then proceeded to break this silence with applause.

Cody blinked at him. Even before the Drama Brothers tanked their reputation, they'd never gotten this kind of response from him before.

"Bravo, Cody Anderson, bravo!" Apollo stopped to wipe a tear from his eye. "I've heard plenty of great songs throughout my career, but I think yours is one of the greatest!"

Cody's mouth fell open. So did the others'. "Y-you really think so?" he squeaked. "You don't think it sounds sappy, or anything?"

"Of course it does, my dear boy!" Apollo exclaimed, "but that raw emotion in your voice is a force to be reckoned with! It doesn't matter how cheesy the lyrics are at this point. People will still relate to cheesy!"

"T-thank you, sir," Cody stuttered. "I'm glad you like it."

Apollo whipped out his handkerchief and dried his eyes. "I haven't felt such intense longing for my wife since the day she left me!"

"I'm sorry to hear-"

"Never mind that now," Apollo cut him off. "You know what you need to do with that song? Release it. Right now. As a single."

Harold locked eyes with Cody. "Uh, right now?"

"Yes! The public will eat it up! You'll be back in the limelight in no time!"

There was a brief pause in the air.

"...Cody, I know that song was meant to be private," Harold continued, "but maybe we should release it."

"Yeah! Maybe we can add it to the album, too!" Ezekiel exclaimed.

"Excellent idea!" Apollo butted in. "Hell, stick those other songs on the album too, if you want it to be about emotion so badly! This song will generate hype for sure!"

"You sure changed your tune," Jerome stated, still wide-eyed. 'I thought you hated those other songs."

Apollo slapped him on the back. "Jerome my boy, we're gonna see what else they can make for their album. If it's good, then great, but if not, then at least the single's excellent!" He too gazed expectantly at Cody.

Cody bit his lip. He stared down at his keyboard, lost in thought.

"Gee, if Apollo loved it, then everyone else will, too." Trent said. "Don't worry, dude. No one has to know it's about Noah. We can still keep that part private."

"Uh, no?" Gwen raised an eyebrow. "People will immediately know it's about Noah. It's not like their relationship is some big secret."

"Oh. Right."

"Ummm…" Cody scratched the back of his head nervously, feeling everyone's eyes boring into him. It was supposed to be for just him and Noah, after all…

…But maybe releasing it would be better for all of them in the long run. He still wanted to save his legacy, and prove that he can write good music. Everyone's pride was at stake here.

And besides, he can always write another song for Noah. An even better one, just for him.

So, after a moment of deliberation, Cody said the words which would seal their fate.

"Okay, let's do it."

It took three days for the band to record the song with all its intended instrumentation, and for Jerome to finish mixing it. Apollo shelled out the money for a hastily-made TV ad. It reused some old concert footage of the band, taking care to remove all focus from Justin. At the end, it proudly displayed a new band photo, as well as its single cover.

Cody had made the cover himself using several photos of Noah and his precious smile. It had taken him an entire afternoon, and when he saw it in the ad, he couldn't help but begin to beam himself.

"We really need to create an official Tweeter page," Trent mused as they saw the ad for the first time, sitting squashed on the couch with Gwen and the other boys.

"How come we didn't think of that before?" Cody facepalmed. "It would make it so much easier to announce new music!"

Ezekiel whipped out his phone. "Leave it to me, you guys!"

"We were too busy skinny dipping and running from crazy fangirls to think about social media," Harold explained.

Trent shuddered. "Could you imagine all the thirsty comments we would've gotten?"

"Can you imagine all the thirsty comments we're gonna get soon?" Cody countered.

"So, how well do you think the song's gonna do?" Ezekiel asked without looking up from his phone.

"Well, hopefully our rabid fangirls would be glad to hear from us." Trent chuckled darkly.

"Let's just pray that they don't tie you to the front of a bus again." Cody said.

"They did what?" Gwen's eyes widened.

"Oh yeah, they managed to drag him all the way to Windsor before they crashed," Harold said.

"I'm just surprised my guitar was able to escape unscathed," Trent added.

"Yeah, but our mental health won't!" Cody exclaimed.

The four boys all chuckled darkly to themselves. Gwen shook her head. She couldn't decide which was worse: having to perform horrifying challenges on international TV, or being in a world-famous boyband. Actually, since the Drama Brothers were never forced to chew on their own toenail as far as she could remember, she would pick the former.

"And…done!" Ezekiel said proudly, abruptly breaking up the laughter. "Just finished creating our Tweeter account! I even made a tweet for the new song!"

That got everyone's attention. Immediately, they started craning their necks and shuffling closer to see the tweet in question.

"Yo yo yo! What's up everybody?! Just wanted to tell y'all that the Drama Brothers are back in town, baby! And we just dropped a fire new song! Check it out below!"

"Did you really have to put 'yo yo yo'?" Trent was unimpressed.

"Why? What's wrong with it, eh?"

"It's just…kinda tacky."

"Well, what would you have put?"

"Uh, something not tacky?"

The phone dinged with a notification before things could escalate. Glad for the distraction, everyone crowded around the tiny screen to see what it was.

"We have our first follower already?" Harold was amazed.

"Who is it?" Trent squinted at the username. "SierraWOfficial. Of course it's her…"

"Hey, be nice," Cody gently scolded. "She's really calmed down a lot recently." At Trent's skeptical look, Gwen joined in on the conversation.

"Really, she hasn't been trying to hit me up for the details on that blog war with Heather since before World Tour." Gwen paused in thought for a moment. "Actually, come to think of it, Heather hasn't been trying to start any drama with me at all."

Cody shrugged awkwardly. "Who knows, maybe she's just been busy, or something."

"So busy that she'd willingly pass up multiple opportunities to take a dig at me?" Gwen snorted. "I don't believe it. I'll bet you anything she's just finding some other way to get back at me."

Just then, the phone dinged again, and again. They looked back at the screen just in time to watch as the number of Tweeter followers suddenly jumped from one to five to ten to twenty, and still rising.

"Whoa, that was fast," Trent said, a little spooked.

"Word really gets around fast, doesn't it?" Gwen remarked.

Then came the retweets and the comments.

"No way no way you guys are back!"

"OMG I knew you guys would get back together, but where's Justin?"

"AAAHHHH NEW SONG! I LOVE IT SO MUCH!"

"the perfect start to my day"

"Yo, where's Justin? Did you replace him with Ezekiel, or something?"

As they read the comments, the phone kept buzzing with each new notification. They were so frequent that there was barely even a pause in between them.

"Okay, I gotta shut off notifications," Zeke said, taking the phone to do just that.

"Harold Norbert Cheever Doris McGrady!" A voice thundered from upstairs.

Harold's entire body instantly froze.

Footsteps stomped their way to the basement door, which flew open. The lights from the hallway illuminated Mrs McGrady as she stood at the top of the stairs. "Did you and the boys seriously go off to the studio to record another song without telling me?"

"...Yes…"

Mrs McGrady sighed. "I swear, sometimes I wonder if I give you too much freedom."

"No Mom, you give me the right amount of freedom." Harold jumped up from the couch. "Besides, what we're doing, it's art! It's self-expression! It's-"

"I think you need to get outside more," Mrs McGrady said, before shutting the door and walking off.

Harold huffed dramatically. "She just doesn't get it. I get outside plenty."

"Parents are always like that, man." Trent said, with a trace of bitterness. "They never even try to understand you."

"Yo guys, we're up to one thousand followers now!" Ezekiel's eyes were wide open in amazement, the light from the phone screen reflecting in them like jewels. "Being famous is awesome!"

"Yeah, but just you wait until your dad starts telling you that you're wasting your life," Trent said, his forehead creasing.

"Or when your siblings get jealous of you," Harold added, folding his arms.

"Or when your parents keep on ignoring you," Cody finished, his smile dropping away.

"...Wow, that's quite the change in attitude." Gwen remarked. "You guys were so happy to be back in the business before..."

And just like that, the boys seemed to snap out of their funk, just as quickly as it had clouded their brains. They all gave nervous, somewhat embarrassed smiles.

"Yeah, we are, don't get us wrong…" Cody said.

"It's just that there's a dark side to being a teenage heartthrob." Trent continued.

"It's important to remember the ugly side of worldwide fame," Harold launched right into lecture mode. "We can't let it go to our heads like last time, but we also can't let ourselves become suffocated by it, either. We have to maintain some degree of separation from the industry, since it's known for being corrupt or morally reprehensible a lot of the time-"

Gwen understood. "Oh no, I get what you mean now." She gestured to herself. "I probably should've maintained a bigger degree of separation once the first season was over."

"True that," Cody pointed finger guns at her. "...But then again, Noah and I may not be together if it wasn't for everything afterward…" At the thought of that, he started looking a little more sad.

Another phone buzzed loudly from where it lay on the couch. Gwen picked it up and took a look at it before handing it to Cody. "Speak of the devil."

When Cody saw who was calling, he let out something that vaguely resembled a girly shriek. "It's Noah! Everybody shush!" He held the phone tightly in his hand and pressed 'answer' with one shaky finger.

"I just called to tell you," Noah said, his voice dry as usual, "that I heard a very interesting song on the radio just now. Sounded like you singing. It was called 'Your Smile', I believe?"

"Yeah?" Cody's grin stretched from ear to ear. "You like it?"

"I did. It was great. I especially liked the whole synthpop style you had going on."

"I knew you would! That's why it's synthpop and not something like country. I know how much you hate country music."

"Wait, Cody…you mean to say that you wrote the song for me?"

"Who else?"

There was a slight pause. "You really think my smile is worth writing an entire song about?"

"Duh! You look so amazing when you smile!"

"...Thanks, Codester," Although Noah's tone was still dry, Cody could clearly tell that he was smiling. He knew him that well. "That…honestly means a lot to me."

"You mean a lot to me!"

And with that whole conversation, The Drama Brothers knew that their return was already a success.