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say.

Lily sways beside Cassie.

This is it.

The last song; our third original. It’s a raw version, but there is no better time to debut it than now.

We trade our electric guitars for acoustic ones. Benji pulls a stool beside me, leaving his Nord Electro keyboard empty.

"So," I say, "we wrote a little something inspired by the events over the last twenty-four hours."

I strum whilst Benji plucks a haunting, mellow beat. I close my eyes for the nth time tonight, channeling the emotion of the song.

Brick walls find no comfort with the deafening mind

The voices, they scream the worst case scenario

If solace is what you seek, it is not what you shall find

You’ll wish for static over the broken stereo.

On cue, the piano comes to life, but it isn’t Benji behind the keyboard—it’s Amber.

Someone in the crowd gasps. A teary-eyed Cassie covers her mouth with her hand. Lily also looks as if she’s about to cry. She latches onto Cassie’s other hand.

My eyes lock on Lily as I sing the chorus.

The world is at your fingertips

Take a deep breath

Close your eyes

Carry on, yeah, carry on.

Benji and Eric’s solemn looks shift as I flash them a smile, acknowledging this moment. They do the same.

When all you’ve known is darkness

A lack of light, no sleep is tight

When you feel like your life is a mess

No blinding light, no will to fight

Well, let me tell you this…

Amber smiles and leans towards the microphone.

The world is at your fingertips

Take a deep breath

Close your eyes

Carry on, yeah, carry on.

We repeat the chorus twice until we enter the outro of the song. The holiday lights complement the ambiance of the piano notes. The percussion falters into an echo as Benji strums the last chord. The last sounds that resonate around the room are our voices—mine and Amber’s—blending.

Cassie and Lily stand up from their pillow seats to give us a standing ovation. Even if they are the only ones to do so, their support means lots.

"Thank you, Brighton. It’s a pleasure to debut our music here," I say, and slip off the strap and carry my guitar with my left hand. "We’re The Fortunate Only!" I unplug my guitar and switch off the amplifier.

"If you like what you heard, we will be uploading a video recording of one of the songs we performed tonight in our website." Benji shamelessly plugs. "Subscribe to TheFortunateOnly.com and follow us on Facebook, Instagram and Twitter @thefortunateonly."

"Benji!" Eric shouts from behind the drum kit.

I jump back in front of the microphone to switch it off before the crowd can hear our quarrel.

"What?" Benji says to him and shrugs. "Aren’t you the one always saying that exposure is good?"

"It’s true." I side with Benji. "I know you hate shameless plugs, but how else are they going to listen to our music if they don’t know where to listen?"

Eric grumbles as he gets off his throne and stashes his sticks in his back pocket. The crowd bubbles in conversation.

Lily rushes to us as we pass the grand piano and head towards them. She pulls me first—I’m at the head of the line—and gives me a tight hug. "Thank you." Her voice cracks. "That was incredible!"

"You’re welcome," I say into her ear. "Hey, we can’t have you in tears just yet. One more act, yeah?"

Lily laughs. "It’s just, err, no one’s ever written a song for me before."

"Don’t be so smitten," Eric says in a mischievous tone. Lily lets go of me and hugs him next. He whispers something in her ear and her face goes tomato red.

"Can’t compete with him," Benji says as he sits beside Amber.

"You don’t have to." She winks and gives him half a hug.

"You were amazing, Amber," I say and pat her shoulder. "I’m proud of you!"

"I’m glad I did that," she says. "Thank you for encouraging me to."

"We have the rest of the tour to help you with it," Benji says.

"You will record it, won’t you?"

"We have," I say, thinking of the video recording. It’s still on!

"I mean, a proper studio recorded version. Your idea is great, but you’ll want to put out your music on Spotify, SoundCloud, YouTube…"

"Of course," I shout, running to the tripod at the back to stop the recording. "But first…"

"Whoa, there. I think we’ll take it step by step," says Benji’s fading voice.

Ever the realist.

I get to the tripod and press the stop button. I can’t wait to see what we sound like on video. Benji has to do his tech magic, but still. This is exciting. And the possibility of recording is even better. I am so ready for it. After all, I should have been working on an EP with Lewis.

Oh, Lewis.

But I’m hit with the realisation that remembering him, Elliot, or Alex from my College band doesn’t bring that bitter aftertaste that it used to. And I’m not just talking about wanting to be a musician, like what Nate had asked me at URadio weeks ago, I’m actually doing something about it.

The Hush Society is making me see the real things that matter. Like the way music helped Lily. Or the way Amber acknowledged that though the piano reminds her of her old self, she risked facing her insecurities, even going as far as playing to help Lily. Just like Eric, Amber used music as a tool to overcome negativity.

It’s better to hold on to positive energy than basking in negativity. I don’t need to add to that bad energy going ‘round. There’s plenty enough of that with people doubting themselves, afraid of their own demons.

"Hello," a breathless voice says into the microphone. "One, two, test."

I look up from the camera. A young lad—around my age with curly dark hair—stands in front of the microphone with a guitar slung over his chest.

Lily approaches the stage, beams at him, blushing, before borrowing the microphone from the stand.

"We’re nearing the end of today’s episode," she begins. "Our last performer is a native of Brighton.

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