The training halls of Stellaris pulsed with low hums and warm lights that mimicked the planet’s shifting atmosphere. Outside the panoramic windows, constellations moved like spectators across a galactic amphitheater. The trainees gathered one by one, tension and ambition simmering in the air. This was their first official test—Stage One. Failure meant reassignment. Or worse, obscurity.
Ren stood near the far wall, adjusting the slim mic band clipped to his collarbone. The weight of it felt heavier than usual, though it was featherlight. Across the room, Kai leaned against a console, eyes half-lidded, arms crossed, radiating disinterest—or so it seemed.
The screen above flickered to life. "Group Formation Challenge," the AI intoned. "Objective: synchronize performance energy, deliver original song segment, demonstrate blend."
Groups were pre-selected. Ren saw his name flash on the center holo-panel… paired with Kai, two other boys, and a girl whose aura glowed aquamarine. "Team EchoNova," the system announced.
Ren swallowed hard. Kai didn’t even glance at him.
---
Rehearsals began instantly. The group was allotted one orbital day to choreograph, blend vocals, and prepare a 3-minute showcase. But every time Ren tried to lead, to speak, his voice stammered, and he saw Kai’s cool stare cut right through him.
Kai only sang when necessary, kept to himself, eyes unfocused.
“Could you at least try to harmonize with me?” Ren asked during a break, sweat sticking his bangs to his forehead.
“I’m not here to play school musical,” Kai replied, brushing past. "You lead. I follow. Just don’t mess up."
The others avoided intervening. Kai was a legend-in-the-making, a platinum-scorched name in every trainee's mouth. Who were they to challenge him?
---
That night, their shared suite shimmered with soft ambient lighting. Ren sat by the balcony, staring at the artificial tides projected beyond the glass, the lull of programmed waves syncing to his pulse.
Kai emerged from the sonic shower, towel slung around his neck, bare chest glistening. His eyes lingered on Ren, unreadable.
“You still humming that melody?”
Ren blinked. “What?”
“That song. The one from the archives. The one you always hum. It’s… familiar.”
Ren’s breath hitched. “It’s my mother’s lullaby.”
Kai sat down beside him, unusually close. The air turned warmer.
“Strange. I’ve dreamt of it since I was little. But I never knew where it came from.”
Ren turned toward him. “Maybe it’s always been trying to reach you.”
Silence stretched like a held note.
And then Kai leaned in.
Not rushed, not hungry. Just close enough that Ren could feel the heat between their lips.
But Kai stopped. “Don’t let me distract you,” he whispered. “You’ve got a stage to lead.”
He disappeared into his room, door hissing shut.
Ren sat there, stunned, heart hammering like a snareline.
---
Audition Day.
The stage was a crystalline platform suspended over simulated ocean currents. Spectators from all orbiting domes watched the feed. The jury of AI voice calibrators and star agents watched even closer.
Team EchoNova took their position.
The music began—Ren’s composition. Delicate waves, deep drums, harmonics threaded with starlight.
Ren stepped forward, voice crystalline. Pure. Honest.
The crowd silenced. Kai joined in, low and powerful, singing backup—just as agreed. But then, during the final chorus, he shifted… stepped forward.
Ren froze—but Kai simply pressed his back against Ren’s, lending strength.
“We’ll rewrite the sky,” Kai sang.
Together.
The applause was thunder.
When the judges announced the top three scores, Team EchoNova placed first.
But it wasn’t the score that mattered to Ren.
It was the way Kai looked at him afterward—like he finally remembered a dream from long ago.
And maybe, just maybe, wanted to dream it again.
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