Page 56 of Unfinished Noise

Nathan and Spencer disappeared first—swallowed by hands, phones, and faces leaning in too close. The noise shifted from cheers to overlapping voices, everyone talking at once, everyone reaching for a piece of the band. The temperature spiked, the lights grew harsher, and the space around Jamie thinned until he had to pull his elbows in to keep from being bumped.

Alfie shot him a miserable look. “This part is the worst.”

Jamie nodded, stepping back as someone squeezed past him to get closer to Spencer. The heat of the crowd pressed against his chest, thick and uncomfortable. Fans weren’t rude—they were everywhere, loud and excited, grabbing at Spencer’s arms like they had a right to touch him. The pressure of it all built fast, rising from the floor to Jamie’s ribs, making his skin prickle.

He shifted again, turning slightly away from the crush of bodies, trying to carve out even a sliver of space to breathe. The swarm kept moving, kept tightening, kept pulling Spencer deeper into the center.

And then Spencer glanced over the crowd, but his eyes landed on Jamie like a lifeline, unmistakably his. Spencer’s mouth curved in a small smile meant only for him.

The heat around Jamie didn’t disappear, but it eased. His shoulders dropped. Breathing became easier for him. The crowd was still loud, still pressing, still reaching, but Spencer had seen him.

Hands everywhere—phones raised, flashes popping, voices overlapping so loudly they blurred into one constant, buzzing sound. The crush of bodies pushed closer to the stage, heat rolling off the crowd in waves. Jamie tried to keep his eyes on Spencer, but movement kept breaking his focus—arms reaching, people leaning in, someone laughing too close to his ear.

A girl wrapped both arms around Spencer for a picture, and something inside Jamie tightened without warning. His lower lip caught between his teeth, harder than he meant to, until the sting forced him to stop. His fingers found the edge of the table, gripping it so tightly the wood pressed into his knuckles.

Another flash went off. Someone shouted Spencer’s name. The crowd shifted again, pushing the air out of the surrounding space.

Jamie’s weight shifted on its own, his body angling away from the swarm before he even thought about moving. He turned toward the drink menu—just a blur of colors and words he couldn’t read. The noise pressed in from all sides, too loud, too close, too hot. His pulse thudded in his throat, and the lights overhead felt sharpened, like they were aimed directly at him instead of the stage.

He kept his eyes on the menu, pretending it mattered, pretending he wasn’t reacting to every hand that reached for Spencer.

The crowd didn’t let up.

But Jamie stayed small, elbows tucked in, shoulders tight, trying to carve out a pocket of space in a room that suddenly felt too full.

Then Spencer glanced over the heads of the fans again and found him.

A quick flick of his eyes. A softening in his expression. A tiny smile meant only for Jamie.

The knot loosened. His shoulders dropped. His grip on the table eased.

Jamie exhaled slowly, letting the tension drain from his arms. He didn’t step forward—he didn’t need to. Spencer had already seen him.

And that was enough to steady everything inside him.

He swallowed it down. It wasn’t big or dramatic. Just a quick flare that faded as soon as Spencer glanced over the crowd and found him—eyes softening, mouth curving in that quiet way that always made Jamie’s chest loosen.

Alfie nudged him. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah,” Jamie said. “Just… a lot of people.”

“Tell me about it. One girl asked if Nathan was single. I almost told her he’d ground her.”

Jamie snorted. “You should’ve.”

They stood off to the side, waiting for the crowd to thin. It took a while, but eventually the fans drifted toward the bar or out the door, buzzing about the show.

The place was loud—too loud for thinking—but he couldn’t stop watching Spencer across the room.

Spencer had paused near the bar, halfway through accepting a drink from a fan, when Billy and Farlan intercepted him. Jamie couldn’t hear the words, but he didn’t need to. Farlan’s hands were flying, sharp gestures slicing through the air. Billy looked defensive, chin jutting out like he was ready to argue with anyone who breathed wrong.

Jamie frowned. What now? With those two, it could’ve been anything—Billy’s attitude, Farlan’s temper, some band drama Jamie didn’t have the energy to decode. Spencer stood between them, shoulders tense, mouth tight, trying to keep the peace. He looked exhausted, even under the stage lights still bleeding into the bar.

Jamie shifted his weight, tempted to go over there, but Spencer caught his eye for a split second. Just long enough to give him a tiny shake of his head—stay put, I’ve got it.

So Jamie stayed.

Nathan and Spencer finally broke free from the argument, weaving through the crowd toward him. Both of them wore tired smiles, faces flushed from performing and from whatever the hell that confrontation had been.