Final Rehearsal

The mirrored length of the dancing studio glinted sharply in the late afternoon sun as it unfolded before Lalin like a bleak, unfamiliar landscape. With each restless shift, the soles of her sneakers whispered against the glossy hardwood as she stood fixed at its center. Traces of sweat and rubber, a familiar balm that now pressed against her chest and was too thick to calm, hung heavy in the air. The seven days till graduation sounded louder in her mind as her fingers twitched at her sides, clinging to phantoms. She felt a dull throb that she couldn't beat as she considered their group breaking apart and dispersing like leaves on a gust.

With his violin bag draped darkly and heftily over his shoulder, Kiet hovered in the doorway, his gaze following her with a silent burden. Following the same unspoken thread that had brought her here, he had arrived early. The air conditioner in the studio hummed softly, a fragile shield against the storm roiling in Lalin's mind.

"You've been pacing," he observed, his voice piercing the silence like a constant undertow.

Unflinching where she flickered, Lalin saw his image in the mirror. A smile broke at the seams as she strained it. "Too many finales piling up."

With a gentle clunk, he eased his luggage on the floor and entered. "Not the end. turns.

Her curiosity pierced the cloud as she tilted her head. "Turns to where?"

A hint of warmth pierced Kiet's normally reserved lips as they bent. "No matter where we aim. We are simply changing, not going extinct.

Lalin exhaled, her shoulders becoming slightly less tense. "Feels more like losing ground."

He got closer, coming to a halt just out of her shadow. The icy sterility of the studio was tempered by the slight heat emanating from his proximity. "After that, we plant a plant here. Make a mark.

Her eyebrows furrowed, curiosity growing more intense. "How?"

"A performance," he stated, firm but measured. "The school's farewell. Something that contains everything.

The idea ignited potential in her like a spark on parched grass. "Just us?"

Kiet's unusual, wide smile blossomed. "Or even more. Make it ours, for all of us, Mina and Chai.

The coiled fear in Lalin's chest relaxed sufficiently for him to take a deep breath. "That might fit."

He knelt by his case and clicked it open to show the shining arcs of the violin. He tucked it under his chin and pulled the bow across the strings, letting off a torrent of notes—modern beats intertwined with Thai folk tunes. Lalin was pulled from the depths of her thoughts by the booming sound, which encircled her like a lifeline. Her breath matched the rise and fall of the rhythm as she closed her eyes and felt it seeping into her bones.

Her feet moved, hesitantly at first, making slight arcs on the ground. Her body responded as the song deepened, her spine bending into the music's pull and her arms arcing skyward. The weight was briefly relieved, and the sound and action surged together as one. When her eyes opened, Kiet's met hers, soft and unguarded, with a flicker of amazement in their depths as she whirled, her skirt billowing in a sweeping sweep.

Through the strings, he murmured, "You're there," barely audible.

Lalin felt a mixture of effort and a more subdued, unnamed warmth creep up her throat. It's the noise. reduces the weight.

There was a slight, real slant to his mouth. "That's its job."

The duet developed in fits and starts as they pushed forward. Kiet's constant presence kept Lalin grounded every time she faltered, even though her nerves buzzed, a current running beneath her skin. He took a moment to demonstrate to her a breathing technique he had perfected for his own solos: a steady inhale through the nose, a regulated exhaust through the lips. The ritual stitched her tattered edges tight as she imitated it mid-step.

Mina hovered in the hallway past the glass door of the studio, her sneakers subdued against the tile floor. She had arrived with an apology, a fragile thread to patch up the growing distance between her and Lalin. Her words wilted when she saw them through the pane, Kiet's bow cutting the air, Lalin flowing like water. Tangled with a hollow yearning, a sharp, unasked-for sting of envy curled in her gut. She had read Lalin's silent charms and been her confidante. That location appeared to float out of her grasp now.

The cold gripped her palm as her fingers touched the doorknob, but she was unable to turn it. She retreated, the unsaid settling back into her heart as her shadow faded down the corridor.

Across campus, the sharp slap of a basketball against concrete reverberated through the gym. The regular thud of the ball gave Chai's restless mind a pulse as he prowled under the flickering fluorescent glow. The court was cut with shadows from the tall windows, and the air smelled of sweat and faint bleach. He had spent an hour trying to find the unease that had persisted since his final conversation with Kiet.

Kiet entered with his exercise bag slung loosely over his shoulder as the door groaningly opened. A smile sliced across Chai's face as he straightened. "Finally showed."

Kiet shrugged, his body stiffening. "Got tied up."

Chai's smile faded as his eyes narrowed. "With Lalin, right?"

Kiet did not sidestep, but his jaw tightened, a slight tic. "Rehearsing."

Eyes focused, Chai bounced the ball once and twice. "That's it?"

Kiet remained motionless, the silence stretched taut and thin. With a sigh, Chai tossed the ball in his direction. "I'm not snooping. Simply tread lightly. She is not as wired as we are.

Kiet grabbed it, his fingers firmly grasping the leather. "I see her."

After maintaining eye contact for a time, Chai nodded in the direction of the hoop. "Show me. The game is on.

A faint edge lingered, a tiny fracture behind the perspiration and banter, hinting at depths still to be discovered, but they settled into their old cadence—passes sharp, shots dealt in a pattern chiseled by years.