"Do you need help with that?"

         I turn around to see Jun staring up at me trying to tie up a string of fairy lights above the back patio.

        "Um—" The stool wobbles for dramatic effect. Ballerina, I am not. "Yeah, could use some help."

        After taking the string of lights from me, Jun waits until I've safely grounded myself before climbing up the steps. He's not the tallest guy out there, but he's taller than I am, so he can easily hook the last section up.

         Before I know it, he walks over to the end of the power strip and plugs it in. Like pulling the curtain back at midnight, all of the bulbs turn on like they're planting themselves as stars in the sky against a backdrop of Los Angeles at twilight.

        "Are these for Bash's house?" Jun asks, picking up the extra boxes on the table.

        "He has a pergola in his backyard. I was going to risk my life by using this stool on its deathbed to weave these between the beams."

        "Could've asked for help."

        "You've been...busy. I didn't want to bother you."

        He sighs before dropping down onto one of the patio chairs. The one bright side of never using them is that the cushions are always so fluffy. Jun sinks into the chair, staring out at the backyard. "You're never a bother. Quite the opposite."

        It's not the truth but it's kind of him to say.

        "And I'm not just being nice so shut up."

        Dropping down into the sliver of space next to him, I can't help but laugh. "We know each other too well."

        "Can't imagine a world where we don't."

        Jun's arm falls easily around my shoulders, and, as if there's been no time since we last talked to each other like this, I rest my head against his chest with my feet tucked under me.

        It's been a few days since the TV special was filmed. And while I would classify it as a success, my brain can't help but rethink every answer given and how it'll be perceived when it's eventually released. Not having Jun there to work through it all together—the good, the bad, the elastic in-betweens—was difficult. Especially since it wasn't that he wasn't there; he was just out of reach.

        "I'm sorry. You were right; I was overstepping and shouldn't have inserted myself into the middle of an argument. It wasn't my place."

        He plays with the charms dangling off my friendship bracelet. No matter how many years it's been or everything it's been through—Jun's has unfortunately suffered too many scrapes from the years of skateboarding and falling from said skateboard—mine manages to hang on.

        "Thank you. I understand why you did it, and I appreciate you trying to help. I know you're coming from a good place."

        "Still. It doesn't absolve me of my responsibility to know when and where to voice my opinion when it's solicited."

        Jun flashes me a look of appreciation.

        "I heard you two have been talking. Somewhat."

        Jun laughs; a mixture of humor and pain. "Yeah, I guess you could say that."

       "And how do—do you feel?"

        He looks down at me with a smile. "Are you trying to play therapist right now?"

        "I'm trying to be a friend. Also, that's Everleigh's job. And no one can replace her."

        "Very true. Maybe Nurse Meadowlark can make a house call soon."

        I smile thinking of Everleigh hanging out at our house one day. We'll spend the entire time looking over my and Jun's DVD collection. "So—"

        Jun takes a second to think over his answer, and I wait however long he needs me.

      "To be honest, it still feels like we're at a weird standstill. Like, we have talked about everything but at the same time haven't really talked about it. Not about how we're supposed to move forward with all of this. It's been mostly about the song otherwise. Other than that, she's been keeping her distance. Spends most of her time in her room."

        "Okay, but how do you feel?"

        "Confused," he confesses. "I wish I knew what she was thinking."

        If ridding him of this stress was as easy as smoothing out the lines of frustration etched into his forehead, I would. Attempts are still made, though, and Jun finds it amusing so he laughs anyway. I suppose to some extent that it works.

          "Maybe...I can try to talk to her about it. Less judgment this time."

         Jun pulls me closer and smooths his hand over my hair. "You don't have to."

         "I know," I reply. "But I want to. If you're okay with it. I think I might....understand her better now."

        When I lift my head to look at him, I see Jun staring out once more with a faraway look in his eyes. The way we're sitting right now, cuddled up on a chair that comfortably sits one person but barely manages two, reminds me a lot of our conversations back home in Hawaii, before we had the weight of the world on our shoulders. Secret feelings spilled against the backdrop of the sound of crashing waves rhythmically playing on a loop; a faint orange sky deepening as the hour grows late; a crisp smell of salt in the air, both from the beach and from our tears, so many of them shed over the years.

        Through countless dating debacles, personal setbacks, and triumphs, there's always been one constant outside of us, and though I've kept it to myself most of the time, it's been the inevitable truth known by all. An understanding that the day when Jun and Lauren find their way to each other in the way they've always been destined to will come and it'll last even longer than our songs. MARS as an entity will likely end one day when we're satisfied with the legacy we've left for ourselves, but Lauren and Jun will be forever if they let themselves be. Born together, raised together, rulers of the universe together. We've all seen it in the way they move through life—slowly and with ease; sensitive hearts beating at a comfortable pace; sneaking glances and secret smiles.

        Jun and I might consider ourselves each other's soulmates, but there will always be the most special place in his heart for her.

        Spending so long knowing it was going to happen and then watching those moments unfold right before the big reveal. I understand why it's terrifying to both of them. If you don't start, there is no end to be afraid of. But then you're left with an infinite number of what-ifs that eat away until you're sitting across a dining room table from someone else, too far past any chance of taking it all back.

        Maybe chalking up our last conversation where I'd walked in on their argument as something silly is one of the problems in the first place. Because while I understand Jun and I understand Lauren, I'm not privy to Jun and Lauren and that's how it should be. That's okay.

       "I've been looking at it as just your friend but I need to remember I'm her friend too. And while I don't think our situations are the same, I can understand to some extent what must be going through her head. And if I can offer any support, then I should. I want to."

        "I think she'd appreciate that."

        "And you?"

        Jun's chest rises and falls with the weight of the world.

        "You've both always been two halves of my heart. Nothing would make more sense."

        This time when Jun starts rambling about the song and Lauren, I just listen. No worrying thoughts behind my glassy eyes. Not expecting the worst of outcomes. I listen and watch him fall in love over and over again, hidden under the guise of songwriting. And when he caves and plays me the near-final product, tears build at the beauty of it all. Guilt prickles at my resolve just as they fall down my cheeks, and I quickly swipe them away before he notices them.

        "That's beautiful," I say truthfully. "Can't imagine how it'll get even better but I can't wait to hear it."

        He slides his phone back into his pocket. "Can't believe we're nominated for album of the year."

        "How did Marty take the news?"

        "I've never seen that man cry so much. And he's watched his wife give birth to their children."

       Laughter skips out of me. "He deserves it. Saved our asses too many times."

        "Had to talk him down from buying a plane ticket just so he could hug you in person."

        Note to self: suffocating Marty hug is probably incoming the next time I see him.

        "Did your mom call?" he asks tepidly.

        I shake my head. "Feel like I should stop setting myself up for disappointment by expecting more from her."

        To say it sucks that my dad can't be here to see this moment is an understatement. But even though I've made it clear to my mother that I don't have it in me to maintain any sort of relationship with her at the moment, it hurts just as much knowing the one parent I do have doesn't seem to care unless it's something that benefits her.

        Part of me still feels guilty for feeling this way because I understand I pushed her away after she flew to LA; I know I shouldn't but I do.

        "It's okay." Jun presses a warm kiss against my temple. "We're here. Together."

        Seems impossible that I can manage to wedge myself closer to him but I do. After spending so many years wandering around aimlessly, unsure of who I was or what I'm meant to do, these moments are when I realize what it means to be a family. Whether we're arguing or cheering each other on, we find our way back to each other. Always.

        "Stev," Jun whispers as the skies above us finally turn out the lights, "no matter what else happens, know that your dad would be so proud of you."

"Don't forget your sunscreen."

        "Babe, I'm from Australia. You don't have to tell me twice. We bathe in SPF."

        "You can never be too careful," I laugh.

        Seira scolds me under her breath for wiggling my toes too much before slapping my foot and threatening to accidentally spill the bottle of nail polish on me. I consider me keeping still and listening to her as payment for the free pedicure.

        "Must be buzzin' right now," Brendon says with a groggy voice. It's far too early for him to be up right now, but even when he's halfway across the world, he makes it a point to call me before I go to bed. He could've waited a couple more hours until it was a better time for him since Seira and I will probably be up for a few more hours, but I'm not one to complain about getting to hear his voice.

        Deciding even sitting up is too much effort, I drop back onto the floor and let my free arm fall to the side. "I think this is the most excited I've been all year."

        Brendon hums thoughtfully, and I feel the vibrations of it in my chest; all happy and fluttering and pure.

        "Do they know how big it's going to be? Was it sold out?"

        I smile; bright and unashamed. "Of course."

        He laughs along with me. "Of course."

       Growing up on the island of O'ahu during what my father often considered the golden years of UH football means I spent a lot of time at Aloha Stadium. A distinct memory holds of running so quickly up the winding walkway to the upper-level seating that it felt like I was flying. If I think hard enough, I can even still taste the stretchy cheese pizza and garlic fries I always forced my parents to buy for me. I can remember the wind blowing through my hair and thinking about how much I've always loved the smell of Hawaii. The rumble of football fans stomping their feet against the stands leading up to each kick-off, and subsequently feeling the floor shake beneath me. How the combination of the wind and the shaking would make it feel like the entire stadium was about to crumble into dust—probably not far off considering how rusted and old it is—but how it only made it that much more exciting and thrilling. A lot of big concerts are held at the Waikiki Shell, but the biggest shows have always been held at Aloha Stadium, and the realization this is the second time we'll be playing there and what it means to us hasn't hit me quite yet. I'm not sure I'll feel it until I'm back on my islands once again.

        "Who did you say was opening for you guys again?" Brendon asks absentmindedly. I can hear him packing his bags in the background. Since he's already on the road, it makes it a little easier to pack light, even though he'll probably have to buy lighter clothes when he arrives in Hawaii, or borrow something from Rami or Jun. Probably the latter.

        ("Your bo-Brendon needs to wear color more. Give him one of my pineapple shirts.")("I will do no such thing. And he wears color!")("Race suits don't count. Even if he looks hot in them.")("Fun fact: the technical term is racing overalls.")("That's not the point, Stevie.")

        "An up-and-coming local Hawaiian and Tongan band and this guy Nikau. He was featured on that song Mav did for Work, Wife."

        "Oh, yeah," Brendon replies. "Sick voice. He's Māori, right?"

        "Yup."

        "I'm sensing a theme."

        Seira taps my foot so I lift my toes higher. "Can't have a homecoming without some Pasifika."

        "As you should. Do you have a lot to do to get ready when you get there?"

        "Probably not. They don't hold that many events at the stadium anymore because it's lowkey falling apart, so, last I heard, they've been slowly assembling everything over the past week or so. Should be just....relaxing when we get there. And then soundcheck and rehearsals the day before."

         Brendon breathes a sigh of relief. Between spending time with us and finding his way around the island for the first few days, he'll be much happier to go with the former.

        "I'm happy for you."

        Even though Seira is sitting inches away from me and will likely tease me about her recollection of this conversation and the way I act around him now, I still smile up at the ceiling, imagining we're staring up at the same stars. And as beautiful as they are, nothing compares to the north star on the other end of the line.

        "I'm happy you're coming."

        "I would never miss it," he says. Though it took some finessing with his busy schedule, Brendon speaks the truth.

        "Highest of honors from the current championship leader."

        As of the last race a couple of days ago, Brendon Ellis is officially leading in the points for the Drivers' Championship, and there aren't enough words, not enough songs to sing about how proud I am of him. There are still a handful of races left until the December finale in Brazil, but something has shifted within him. Even in the recaps I've seen online, every clip shows the unmistakable spark in Brendon's eyes. A ferocious desire to climb higher and higher, and achieve the only goal he's ever had since joining the sport. And while he has the utmost respect for Idris, beating his idol would be something different, something special. A reminder that he is destined to become as great as he's always believed Idris to be.

        Idris deserves the break after an illustrious career, but it's a shame they won't have a chance at being teammates longer. They're a pairing for the ages. I know Brendon will miss him more than anything.

        "I think I'm going to faint if I think about it too much."

        I smile thinking about the dimple undoubtedly making an appearance on his face right now. We'll both be flying to Hawaii running high on adrenaline, and I'm not sure anything will be able to knock us back down. "Keep your head up. You're doing great."

        "I legitimately tripped over my own foot the other day 'cause I couldn't stop staring at the standings on my phone. Rix hasn't stopped laughing at me since."

        As Seira starts working on the final coat of clear polish, I wonder if it's even possible to smile brighter than I am right now. My Brendon always brings the best out of me.

          "I'll catch you next time."