The calm after the storm. Or maybe before it. Hell, who even knew what the storm was, anyway. Who knew what the future could hold.

Since creating The Law of Retaliation practically out of thin air, their production speed had slowed down some. They had yet to write another full song. All they had were bits and pieces; fragments of memories they couldn't decide were worth sharing or not. Much like their own memories, those pieces of song were floating around in their heads; not even really taking on a definitive shape of their own.

They'd recorded The Law of Retaliation and The Door in the studio a while ago. They'd released snippets of them on Tweeter, to rave reviews. The darker themes of the latter did not go unnoticed, but Ezekiel didn't feel quite ready to reveal all the nitty-gritty details behind its creation. They still rested in his mind, fading away but never truly going away forever.

Speaking of Ezekiel, he had been hard at work; hunched over his notepad and scrawling non-stop, sometimes making the tell-tale slashing motions of crossing something out.

For everyone else, the next big thing on the agenda was shooting a new music video.

They'd already been given a budget of five million dollars, which seemed extraordinarily extravagant. But it wasn't the money they were concerned about; it was everything else.

Where should they shoot it? Who should direct it? What should they do? Should they just stick to a simple performance with heavy use of romantic filters? Or should they do a more artsy film style approach, with a long intro and outro and a whole plot and universe unto itself?

Harold was a big fan of the latter.

"It would be a great way to prove to everyone that we're serious!" he shouted, hands on his hips. "All the other famous singers are doing them like that!"

"No way man, that's too artsy-fartsy. Besides, what would we even do for the plot?" Trent asked. "We'll just turn ourselves into the butt of everyone's jokes again! Cody, back me up here!"

Cody grimaced, not wanting to get involved in this argument. "I…sorry Harold, but I'm on Trent's side."

Harold was about to say something else, but just then Ezekiel piped up from where he lay on the floor. "It's Cody's song, guys. He should get to decide what we should do."

Harold frowned slightly. "Okay, that's fair. Cody, what do you want to do?"

Cody brightened up significantly. "Well, I was wanting to keep it simple. You know that big concert hall in town? I was thinking we could use that. We can make our own dance moves and have a bunch of colourful lights flashing everywhere. Gotta fit the synthpop vibe a little bit, heheh."

"Yes!" Harold pumped his fists. His attitude had changed remarkably quickly. "Leshawna's been trying to give me dancing lessons during our video calls. This will be the perfect time to put them to good use!"

"I'm down." Trent said.

"Me too, that sounds cool." Ezekiel agreed.

"Then it's settled!" Cody clasped his hands together like an excited schoolgirl. "Let's go tell the studio!"

After contacting the record label with their plans, the shoot was scheduled to be the day after tomorrow. Although those at Algorhythm Studios were perfectly happy to foot the bill, they were also on a schedule of their own. The Drama Brothers were expected to be in and out of the concert hall within a day.

That should be okay. They weren't planning on doing anything fancy anyway.

And besides, they'd done music videos before. They knew what they were doing. They could handle it, no problem.

Plus, they had the day before the shoot to practice their dance moves.

So it was such that the next day, the four of them gathered in Harold's small backyard, shielded from prying eyes by the enormous wooden fence, and with the wind blowing their hair, to prepare themselves.

"Alright, gentlemen," Harold said, with a dramatic sweep of his arm, "I have learned the art of dance from a master of it. Now, I will impart these teachings to you, my fellows. Watch, and learn…"

"Dude, cut it out with the movie dialogue. It's getti-" Trent couldn't even finish his sentence, because Harold chose that moment to start dancing.

It was obvious that the master of dance he was referring to was Leshawna. And while he preferred to see her as one, no one else on Earth did.

So when Harold began performing his energetic, over the top gyrating moves to an imaginary beat inside his head, none of the others could follow along. Instead, they all just stood there and held back their discomfort.

Harold, completely nonplussed, was entering into his element. Or Leshawna's element, to be exact. He knew it was always a good idea for couples to take part in each other's interests. And although he and Leshawna weren't official yet, he still wanted to do the things she liked.

So he continued to dance, the way she had enthusiastically tried to teach him. The others watched on, unenthusiastically.

Trent walked over and laid a hand on his shoulder, snapping him out of the zone. "Dude," he said, "enough. It's not gonna work out."

"Yeah, no offense, but you should dance more normally, eh." Ezekiel chimed in. "Like this:"

Then, before anyone could say no, Ezekiel took it upon himself to demonstrate some dance moves that looked as if they'd been ripped straight from a corny 80's aerobics tape. Only, Ezekiel did not have the physique or the stamina to effectively pull it off. Plus, ratty jeans and a hoodie were not good clothes to dance in. And without any accompanying music, the result was…well, what you would expect.

Harold burst out laughing. "You call that dancing?"

"What do you know about dancing, Harold?" Ezekiel retorted.

"Well, I learned from someone who-"

"Doesn't know anything about dancing, either." Trent said crossly. "Knock it off, Zeke. We need to take this seriously."

"But we are!" Both boys protested.

"Dudes. You need to dance normally. Normally. Like this." Trent did a few much less dramatic moves of his own.

"We were dancing normally," Zeke and Harold chorused, glaring hard.

"You guys!" Cody threw up his hands, "stop fighting! All we need to do is find a middle ground-"

"You were not dancing normally," Trent carried on, ignoring Cody. "You were dancing like…like a tap-dancing spider having a seizure."

Ezekiel's face flushed a violent red. "Yeah, well, you were dancing like a loser!"

"No, I wasn't," Trent said dangerously. His stomach churned with an achingly familiar undertone. "If you're not gonna take this seriously, then I'm gonna go!" With that, he turned on his heel and marched back into the house. His heartbeat thumped in time to his stomps.

Cody watched him go, his stomach also in a familiar sense of upheaval. The exact kind he'd felt the first time they broke up.

Only this time, Justin wasn't around to stir the pot for them. They were driving a wedge between themselves.

"Well, if you're leaving, so am I!" Ezekiel shouted, then jumped over the fence into the neighbours' backyard and out of view.

"Me too!" Harold dramatically flounced his way into the house, slamming the door behind him.

Cody was left standing all alone in the windswept backyard, terrified and saddened for the future.

Maybe the Drama Brothers were never compatible in the first place. Maybe it was simply luck and a mutual desire to be popular that had kept them afloat thus far. Maybe they were on life support from the very beginning…

No. No, they couldn't be. Didn't they have a new hit song under their belt already? Didn't they already have a small collection of music they were working on? Hell, didn't they all go to Zeke's house to pick up his stuff at the drop of a hat?

They may be bandmates, but they were also friends. And if these friendships ended over something stupid like dance moves, Cody would never forgive himself.

He looked in through the windows. The vague outline of Harold standing in the kitchen drinking milk straight from the carton made him feel even worse. Trent entered the room then, saw Harold, and pointedly walked right back out.

Maybe Cody should wait until they've all calmed down some before trying to talk some sense into them.

The ride to the theater the next day was tense. So tense, in fact, that it made Gwen feel like she was about to sweat bucketloads, and she wasn't even involved in this silly argument.

Cody had invited her to tag along to the filming, and although she'd always wanted to see what went on during the production of a music video, she had no idea how much the others' mood would make things more difficult.

Having finally quit her job at Burger Queen and found a new one at the sandwich shop with flexible hours, she felt more well-rested than ever before. More energized. More prepared to deal with whatever bullshit was going to go down today.

Trent parked the car in the grimy parking lot in front of a building that had clearly seen better days. The paint was off-white and peeling, the faded posters displayed out front advertised shows that had long since been and gone, and the whole place just gave off a very musty feeling; even though they hadn't actually smelled it yet.

"Here?" Gwen raised her eyebrows. "You guys are shooting this thing here?"

"Yeah," Cody said despondently.

The others didn't even say anything. They just piled out of the car and headed inside, through the large maroon-red doors that greeted them. Gwen and Cody followed, Gwen with her hand reassuringly on Cody's shoulder.

To everyone's surprise, the inside was so much nicer and cleaner than the outside. The furniture was made with polished dark oak and embossed in gold, with red velvet wall drapings giving the place a luxurious feel. Out in the seating area, all the chairs had black velvet cushions, and the wooden panels of the stage glowed brightly under all the lights.

Already, the film crew was there, setting up the camera and lighting. Two people were onstage, sweeping and mopping. Others were constantly darting backstage, carrying various items. A loud, angry voice was directing everyone.

A tall, lanky man with a mustache and beret hurried over to them from the stage. His dark sunglasses reflected the five teens back at themselves.

"Drama Brothers! You're a minute late!" He had the same angry voice that was directing everyone else.

"No biggie, eh." Ezekiel handwaved it breezily. Cody realized that it was the first time he'd spoken since yesterday. "We're still here on time."

The man frowned. "Unacceptable. You need to learn how to schedule yourselves better." He coughed lightly. "Anyway, I am Vincenzo Pascal, your director for today. I have been informed that you plan on performing your song on the stage while you dance."

"Yep," Cody responded.

"Excellent. Very simple. I am glad it's nothing high-maintenance. You know, the last music video I shot ended with everything being covered in glitter glue and several pounds of cake frosting." He shivered.

"Sounds like one of Geoff's parties," Gwen quipped.

Vincenzo turned his spider-like sunglass frames over to her direction. "Who are you?"

"Their friend. They invited me along to watch."

"I see. Well, I expect you to keep out of the way, now. I don't work well with distractions."

"You don't need to worry about me."

Vincenzo nodded. Turning back to the others, he stated, "I hope you realize that we're on a tight schedule here. The local theater group will be arriving at three o'clock to rehearse a play, and I have to be heading down to Regina by then to finish shooting a documentary. As you can tell, I'm very busy right now, and you're lucky I was able to squeeze you in, so we mustn't dilly-dally. Now, come along." He walked back towards the stage, beckoning the others to follow him.

The four boys followed suit obediently. Gwen stayed behind, making herself comfortable on one of the plush velvet chairs.

"Now, what kind of lighting do you wish to use?" Vincenzo asked. We have the standard stage lights, neon lights, a disco ball, or we can shoot it in black-and-white, if you prefer."

"Er, black and white, please." Cody replied.

"Very well. We will set it up." He gestured to a door leading backstage. "But in the meantime, go and change into your outfits, and get your makeup done."

The only thing Gwen could see from where she was sitting was a semi-open door, and half of Cody's anxious face peering out of it. His fingers were curled tightly around the door frame. He caught Gwen's eye, and gave her a distraught expression.

Okay, Gwen had to do something.

While Vincenzo's back was turned, she stole across the room and slipped through the backstage door, shutting it behind her.

It was very bright inside, almost blindingly so. Clothes racks and makeup tables were positioned everywhere, somewhat haphazardly. Crew members were still scurrying around, tidying up this and that.

And there was the arguing.

Harold, Zeke and Trent were standing in a circle, continuously jeering at each other. Their sharp, angry voices pierced the air, and from the looks of it, Cody's heart.

"Of course you would pick something so gaudy, Harold."

"At least I'm not dressed like some ordinary loser!"

"Both of your outfits suck, eh. Like your dancing…"

"I learned from the best, thank you very much!"

"Dude, no one thinks Leshawna's dancing is good! Like, at all!"

Gwen's eyes widened. "Have they been like this all day?"

"Since yesterday," Cody said, his head drooping. "They kept arguing about what kind of dance we should do for the music video. Harold wanted something Leshawna taught him, Ezekiel wanted something jazzier, and Trent wanted something normal. They…they just started insulting each other and now they won't stop…" He sniffled.

"Dude, isn't this your video? Since it's your song? Why didn't you just choose what to do?"

"I was the one who suggested we film in the concert hall in the first place. And I didn't have any particular dance in mind, I just wanted to do something together." Cody looked at Gwen, his eyes glassy with tears.

A loud cry of, "You're just jealous of my physical prowess!" filled the air.

Cody swallowed before continuing to speak. "I'm scared we're gonna break up again. I'm scared that Justin was right about us all being talentless hacks. But if we split again, we can't blame it on him; we can only blame ourselves. They're my friends! I don't want things to end on bad terms. Maybe…" He swiped away a stray tear. "Maybe we should have all just gone for solo careers. Maybe we're just too diff-"

"Are you serious?" Gwen cried. It was loud enough that the other three were suddenly startled out of their argument. Now that she had all their attention, it was time for her to say her piece.

"You guys literally just released a Number One hit single weeks ago! You're all working on another album together! Everyone's excited for you! And here Cody's worried that you're gonna split again, and over what? A stupid argument over what kind of dance you should do? Screw it - just do all of them if you can't decide! Now grow up and talk this out, the lot of you!"

And with that, Gwen spun around on her heel and stalked out of the room.

The other three stared at Cody, who sheepishly averted his gaze.

"Dude…" Trent began tentatively. "Did you really think we would break up again?"

Cody nodded wordlessly.

Harold and Zeke glanced at each other. "Maybe we did go too far, eh."

Harold rubbed the back of his neck shamefully. "I was just mad that you guys kept insulting my moves. I'd worked really hard on getting them right."

"Me too."

"I just thought you weren't taking it seriously enough. I really wanted everyone else to take us seriously as well." Trent explained.

"For the record, I don't wanna break up." Ezekiel stated. "I like hanging out with you guys. I don't want that to end."

"You guys are all among my best friends," Harold walked over to where Cody was standing and put an arm around his shoulder. "I don't want to lose any of you."

Trent nodded in agreement. "Yeah. I feel the same way." He joined Cody and Harold, with Ezekiel right behind him. "Let's not have this be a repeat of what happened with Justin."

"Having a solo career was so lonely," Harold said. "I don't want to do that again just yet."

"Hey man, you don't have to cry. We're not breaking up!" Ezekiel was concerned when he saw tears rolling down Cody's cheeks.

"No, I'm okay. I was just scared for a minute there, heh."

Trent smiled warmly at his friends. "Let's just agree to not be rude to each other again, alright? Let's listen to everyone's ideas, even if they're…not good."

"Are you just telling yourself that, eh?"

"Yeah…"

"You know what?" Cody wiped his tears away. "As a symbol of our friendship, let's do what Gwen said. Let's do all of our own dances at once."

The only two foods the craft table had to eat were strawberries and saltine crackers.

Gwen stared down at them in utter disappointment. She wasn't expecting the director to be this cheap. From the way he carried himself, he seemed like the type to serve caviar and crabmeat. The real stuff, not that imitation crap.

But still, she'd take fresh strawberries over Chef's crimes against humanity any day of the week.

She grabbed a handful of them and carried them back to her seat. She watched with mild interest as a crew member scurried over to Vincenzo sitting in his director's chair. Immediately, Vincenzo snapped to attention.

"Places, everyone! It's showtime!"

Gwen drew her eyes towards the stage, its red velvet curtain concealing everything on it. Behind the curtain, footsteps thumped softly and hushed whispers made themselves only barely audible.

The cameraman pointed it directly at the stage, already recording an establishing shot. Gwen could hear the whirring of the lend as it zoomed in on the curtains, which slowly began to draw back. Vincenzo and the rest of the crew watched with bated breath…

…as the Drama Brothers appeared from behind the curtain, hands on hips, with poker faces and perfectly straight posture.

Gwen immediately burst out laughing. The strawberries in her hands dropped to the carpet and she hunched over double, clutching her stomach.

"What's so funny, Gwen?" Cody asked, a knowing smirk on his face. He was dressed in a neatly pressed three-piece suit and tie, which made him look years older than seventeen.

He was the only normal one in the group.

Harold stood, tall and proud, in a dazzling, sparkly silver baggy jumpsuit. Laced tight on his feet were a pair of blindingly bright white sneakers. He wore white-framed, dark-lensed sunglasses that eclipsed his entire face.

Ezekiel had forgone his usual sweater and jeans in favour of pink and purple tie-dye leggings that hugged his legs in all the wrong places, and a white singlet with a faded Fastgold logo on it. His beanie was replaced with a blue headband that did very little to keep his fringe out of his eyes.

Trent, surprisingly, had decided to be a little silly, too. He wore a white T-shirt with a print of palm trees and a sun on it, and turquoise coral-patterned boardshorts. A pair of off-brand sunglasses and black flip-flops completed his simple outfit.

Vincenzo sputtered, shocked. "What the-! Are you boys even taking this seriously? Do I seriously have to tell you how you should dress?"

"This is what we want." Harold responded sharply. He hadn't moved an inch. "This is what we have decided is best for us."

Gwen slapped both hands over her mouth to stifle her giggles, to no avail.

"We're the Drama Brothers!" Ezekiel exclaimed. "No one can tell us what we can and can't do!"

"Except us," Trent added.

"Yeah, exactly!"

Vincenzo massaged his temple. "I was under the impression that this was supposed to be a serious endeavor. If I was told that I'd have to film some little boy's dress-up time, I'd have just said no."

Cody huffed. "If that's the attitude you're gonna have, then I guess we don't really wanna be here either! So let's see if we can get this done in one take, so we can all go home!"

"One take? Are you serious?" Trent hissed.

Vincenzo sighed. "Fine." He tilted his head back. "At least directing a Drama Brothers video would look good on my portfolio…"

He stood next to the cameraman, preparing to film whatever crap those boys came up with next. Hopefully none of them was going to attempt the worm. Not even his directing and editing skills would make that look good.

"Ready to start the music?" He asked another crewmember.

From the rows of empty seats, Gwen watched with bated breath.

Someone else readied the clapboard, holding it up to the camera so it covered the four figures standing beyond it, still in the exact same positions as before. "Three…two…one…action!"

The drive home was incredibly lively. So much so, in fact, that Gwen was the one who ended up driving the car. But she had to be extra careful, because every time she thought of the performance she'd just witnessed, she'd nearly bust her gut all over again.

Meanwhile, the boys were chatting animatedly amongst themselves.

"I still can't believe we did that!" Trent leaned back in his seat, wiping his sweaty fringe out of his eyes. "I thought Vincenzo was about to throw his chair at us!"

"And we would have sued the pants off of him if he had!" Harold stated. "We're the Drama Brothers! Corruption within the music industry is already rampant without people like him ruining everything for us."

"Didn't it nearly ruin things for you guys last time, too?" Ezekiel asked.

Cody shrugged his shoulders. "Not exactly…it was more like a combination of Justin being mean and our old manager trying to save his own skin."

"Speaking of your manager. Your new one, I mean," Gwen spoke up. "How do you think he's gonna react once he sees your video?"

Harold flapped his hand in dismissal. "He won't mind. He's pretty chill."

"Wait, you guys, I just had a thought." Trent sat up straight. "What are we even gonna name our album? We haven't even discussed that yet."

"Don't worry, we can do that later." Harold reassured him. "No big rush."

"But weren't you the one pushing to release this album in September or October?"

"Yeah, but we still have plenty of time before then. Anyway, how about we all celebrate with some pizza tonight? Those strawberries and saltine crackers aren't adequate enough for a filling meal."

"Yeah! Pizza!" Cody and Ezekiel chanted simultaneously.

"Pizza sounds good," Trent said.

"Mind if I join?" Gwen asked.

"Not at all!"

"Okay! How about Pizza Planet? That's on the way back, right?"

"Yeah! That place is awesome! Plus, we can hang out in the arcade once we're done eating!"

But unfortunately for the whole group, those plans never came to fruition. As the car slowed down in front of Pizza Planet, looking for a place to park, they were met with sudden and unexpected disappointment. Pizza Planet was, according to a sign posted out front, closed for the weekend due to the entire staff coming down with the flu.

"Aw, come on!" Ezekiel moaned. "I was lookin' forward to playing in the arcade, man!"

"Of all the days to be sick with the flu. Gosh!" Harold grumbled.

"We can always go to Pizza Shed," Trent suggested.

"No way, Pizza Shed is too greasy! Besides, they don't even have an arcade."

Cody gasped. "I know, you guys? Why don't we just go home and make our own pizza instead?"

Harold perked up almost immediately. "Hey, that's a great idea! But I don't think we have any tomato sauce for it…"

"That's okay, we can just make that, too. I know a really great recipe. And I know how to make the best pizza bases you guys have ever tasted!"

"Sounds like fun!" Trent agreed.

"Yeah, let's do it!"

"Gwen, take us back home!" Harold ordered. "We have some pizzas to make!"

During the drive home, Ezekiel figured he may as well use the time to work a little more on his song. He whipped out his notebook and pencil, which he'd stuffed into his hoodie pocket before leaving. He flipped to a page near the middle and read over what he'd written hours earlier. So far, he only had the first verse and chorus.

Dear Damaris,

Here's what you've missed…

The change from boy to man,

The arrival of my biggest fans,

Freedom outside the front door,

Sleeping on an airplane floor.

My whole life reflected on a television screen,

Everyone sees me, but have I been seen?

The same eyes that look at me now look away,

Through the door and beyond the glass.

The only goodbye was lost amidst the blood rushing in my head,

Where have you gone, where have you been?

Everyone looks at me, but have I been seen?

"You know what we should do?" Cody asked as they opened the front door of Harold's house. "Have a movie night!"

"Hell yeah! Let's watch something scary, eh?"

"I'm with Zeke. I could go for a slasher right now." Gwen agreed.

"No way." Trent rolled his eyes. "Zeke doesn't actually handle horror very well. We watched Inherited the other week, and he hid behind the couch the whole time."

"That car scene was scarier than I was expecting, okay?" Zeke huffed.

Gwen snorted. "Wait til you watch something like Mississippi Lawnmower Genocide."

"Uhh, no thanks… Actually, can we not watch anything scary, after all?"

"Don't worry," Harold stepped forward. "I'll pick something."

"It better not be The Prince Groom again." Trent warned.

Harold sighed wistfully. "That's one of Leshawna's favourite movies…"

"Yeah, well it's not one of mine. Seeing it twice already is enough, dude."

"Alright, I'll find something we can all enjoy." Harold paused for a moment, realizing that the basement could do with a quick tidy. "And I'd better clean up a little, too. We left it a mess this morning."

"Cool. The others and I can start making the pizzas." Cody marched off towards the kitchen with a spring in his step. The others followed behind excitedly.

"Man, I'm hungry! I can't wait for pizza!" Ezekiel exclaimed.

Harold went down into the basement by himself. He looked around himself when he reached the bottom of the stairs.

Yup, just as he'd thought: it was in a complete state of disarray. They'd been a lot messier than he realized. Cody and Trent's sleeping bags were bunched up in one corner. Books, notepads and pens were scattered everywhere. An assortment of dirty plates, cups and utensils were stacked up on every surface, or wherever there was a clean spot on the floor. And their instruments were all over the place.

If his mom could see it now, he'd never be allowed to have friends over ever again.

He set to work immediately, tidying everything up. Straightening out the sleeping bags so they weren't so rumpled, reorganizing their instruments, and gathering all the notebooks and dumping them on the desk.

Harold grabbed as many of the dishes as he could and teetered up the stairs with them, taking care not to drop them. He kicked open the kitchen door and was immediately greeted with the sounds and sights of a busy workspace.

Cody had donned Harold's mother's apron and was hard at work kneading a big ball of pale white dough. Gwen was stirring a pot on the stove. Trent and Ezekiel were hunched over the chopping boards, slicing various meats and vegetables from the fridge.

"Oh! Hi, Harold!" Ezekiel lifted his hand in greeting, knife still in his grasp.

"Zeke!" Cody scolded.

Gwen shook her head. "Cody's been working us all like slaves. He's even making me make our own pizza sauce." She gestured to the pot.

"It tastes so much better than that store-bought stuff, though!" Cody said, looking to Harold for reinforcement.

"Gotta agree with Cody on this one, Gwen." Harold said apologetically as he put the dirty dishes on the bench. "Homemade is always best."

Gwen rolled her eyes and turned back to the stove.

"Have you picked a movie yet?" Trent asked.

"No. I'll do that now."

Harold left the kitchen and went back down into the basement, heading straight for the shelf where they kept their DVDs. So many to choose from. He was exhausted just looking at all of them. And imagining all of the arguments that were inevitably going to break out, no matter what he chose. Actually, that might be because he was already exhausted in general.

The others would be a little while, anyway. He could just rest for a minute.

Harold reclined on the sofa. The empty space of the basement enveloped him in a cloud of silence. The others were still upstairs. He could hear them making various noises in the kitchen, but none of them registered in his mind. What was weighing on his mind, however, was the day's lingering exhaustion.

It made being able to simply put his feet up and relax all the more sweeter.

But he couldn't relax. Not like this.

Because the more he basked in the ambient noise of his household after a long day of dancing and tripping and eating strawberries and saltine crackers from the refreshments table, he felt the familiar itch to compose a new song.

It had been a satisfying, productive day. The sun had been warm, the dances energizing, the attitude spirited, and his best friends were preparing a delicious meal after making up from a fight.

Sometimes feelings like these didn't need words to describe them. They need music.

Harold leapt off the sofa and ran for his keyboard. Pulling up a chair, he switched his keyboard and plugged it into the computer. He booted up UTunes, the software he often used. As he scanned the list of special effects to enhance his keyboard playing, he came across one he'd never used before: Lounge Dreams.

Why not? He decided to try it out.

Tentatively, he hit a couple of keys. The soft but upbeat sounds of jazz-flavoured piano floated into the air.

He smiled. Oh, he liked this one.

He hit the record button, then played a few more notes, then a few more. A few more after that, and a few more after that. He couldn't stop himself.

Before long, he was letting his fingers do all the work while he watched from behind his glasses. The music poured out from him and he had no control over it. He was so far in the zone that he didn't want to stop it, anyway. He wanted to keep going forever.

The never-ending song spoke of many memories recent and old: of long nights hunched over his keyboard, of tense hours and days with his fellow bandmates, of the relief of accomplishment, of lots of filling, fatty meals and the anticipation of yet another, of hopes and dreams for future success, of foggy visions of the long road ahead of him leading to who-knows- where.

The world shrunk down until the only things that remained were himself, his keyboard, and all his burning memories, as bright as imaginary candlesticks and the stars above. His deft fingers played out the soundtrack of his entire life. There was no pomp and circumstance; he was a one-man opera. And this opera of emotion was going to last all night long.

Time was meaningless. The seconds flitted past as delicately as the notes did. The road of the future was made up of the bars of sheet music, stretching as far as the eye could see, into the glow of the night sky-

The door flew open with a bang. Immediately, a cheesy, meaty smell wafted into the basement.

"Hey dude, we finished the pizza!" Ezekiel marched into view, carrying a plate with absolute pride in his movements. He stopped at the sight of the piano. "Whatcha doing?"

Harold glanced at the computer. He had just recorded nearly fifteen minutes worth of music. Fifteen minutes of nothing put pure, condensed emotion. He smiled. "Creating my magnum opus."

Gwen stood hunched over the computer as Harold's fifteen-minute masterpiece played for her. The boys all stood behind her. Harold was grinning proudly.

She wasn't sure what to think.

On one hand, it was certainly a poppy, catchy tune.

On the other hand, it was so psychotic in its rhythm that it was hard to keep up with it.

"So…" Harold approached her. "What do you think?"

"It's…certainly something." She managed a weak smile.

Harold seemed to know what she was thinking. "I know, you think it's weird. But trust me when I say, this is going to be the centerpiece of the album. Like a fancy flower arrangement or something. It's going to have everyone gasping and wishing that they could do that, too."

"Well…" Gwen thought for a moment. "If that's what you're going for, then mission accomplished. That sounded super complicated."

"It's nice that we can all contribute like this," Cody sighed, still relieved that the earlier conflict had worked out okay.

"Speaking of contributing…" Trent turned around and realized that Ezekiel was hunched over his notebook, scribbling away furiously. "You composing another song, dude?"

"Huh?" Ezekiel looked up, missing everything that had been said.

"He asked if you were writing another song." Gwen clarified.

"Oh yeah, I am," Ezekiel said, holding up his notebook to show them. "It's for my sister, Damaris. It's like an open letter to her, telling her what she's missed since she left." He looked down on the pages with dewy eyes. "But since we need another song for the album, maybe we can use it."

"It'd be perfect," Cody assured him.

"I haven't even finished it yet."

"I know. But I have faith in you." Cody rubbed the back of his neck. "If only my parents would have faith in me…"

Trent scoffed. "I dunno why you care so much about what they think, dude. Since they clearly don't care, then you're free to do pretty much whatever, right?"

"Not exactly…" Cody pursed his lips in deep worry.

"What do you mean?"

"I mean, we just made an entire music video for the song I wrote about my boyfriend. Boyfriend. My parents have definitely heard the song by now, and they'll probably see the video sooner or later. And although they haven't said anything about me having a boyfriend yet…" He trailed off and looked down on the floor, rubbing his arm. "I'm scared they will." He sighed. "I-I'm not saying I regret recording the song or anything, because I don't. It's just…I don't know how my parents are gonna react."

"Hey, man." Ezekiel reached out and touched his shoulder. "I know how you feel. If my parents find out that I'm writing a song for Damaris, they'd blow a gasket too, eh."

The corners of Cody's mouth twitched, then quickly went flat again. "Uh…It's not just this, either. I've been working on another song, too. A way more personal one…"

"About your parents?" Trent guessed.

Cody nodded. "About my relationship with them, and how strained it is. I basically feel like I'm living with ghosts. And…part of me wants to record it as well, but again, if my parents find out it's about them…I mean, I tried to make it as vague as possible, but still."

"Well, it's your call, man." Harold told him.

"Yeah. I think it sounds like something that would fit on the album, but if you don't want to release it…" Trent trailed off.

Cody was silent for a moment, then said, "I have to think about it for a little more."

"Hey, I just realized something," Ezekiel spoke up. "We were gonna have nostalgia as the central theme for this album, weren't we? But now it's just turned into us puking up our feelings, eh?"

Harold snorted. "Yeah, you're right, actually. I was thinking of writing a song about the summer I spent at Wizard Steve's Wizard Camp." He snorted again, louder. "Funny how this album's turning out, isn't it?"