The final note ripped out of his throat like it was trying to tear something loose inside his chest. Jace held it, eyes closed against the blinding stage lights, sweat running down his spine in thin rivulets. The sound stretched impossibly long, vibrating through the floorboards, the mic stand, his own ribcage; proof that he still knew how to burn the world down with nothing but his voice. Fuck, he'd needed this. The reminder that he wasn't just some idiot kid from Queens who used to scribble lyrics in cheap notebooks and pray somebody, anybody, would give a shit.

He let the note shatter into silence, the roar of the crowd surging up to swallow it. A crooked grin split his face as he dropped the mic back into the stand, lungs burning. His heart hadn't settled all night, hadn't really settled in years, if he was honest. Ever since he'd packed a rusted van with demo tapes and bad ideas, convinced he could outrun obscurity if he just drove fast enough. All those nights of bartending for tips, living on stale coffee and half a bag of pretzels, chewing ice so he wouldn't think about being hungry. It had all led here; to the stage, the lights, the deafening proof he was still alive.

But none of that shit prepared him for what waited when he stepped into the alley.

She was there. Camera lifted, framed in the flickering neon glow like some hallucination conjured up by adrenaline and exhaustion. He didn't even know her name; press photographer, probably, or someone the label had thrown at them last minute, but Jesus, he was already losing his mind. His brain, usually a pinball machine of one-liners and half-finished melodies, went completely blank. Just static and the humiliating realization that he was standing there gawking like he'd never seen a woman before.

Get it together, man. She's working. She's just...fuck. She's gonna think you're insane.

He raked a hand through his sweat-damp hair, trying to look casual, but his heart was jackhammering behind his ribs. He'd just held a note that could level a room, but apparently saying one normal sentence was beyond him. And God, he wanted to. Wanted to hear her voice. Wanted to see what her mouth looked like when she smiled.

He forced his boots to move, leather jacket sliding into place over his shoulders, the familiar weight doing nothing to make him feel any less like a complete idiot. The rest of the band blurred past—Alec cursing about a blown amp, Theo already halfway into a bottle of something brown, but Jace couldn't take his eyes off her. Like gravity had shifted and made this moment inevitable.

When he finally stopped in front of her, close enough that he could smell the cold night air clinging to her hair, he tried for a smirk. It felt shaky at best.

"You gonna show me those shots?" His voice was rough, scraped raw from the stage and something he didn't want to name. "Or you just planning to—fuck, never mind. I'm...I'm not going anywhere."