The final chorus was barely more than a whisper.
> "Say my name if you mean it."
"Don't clap if you're just filling space."
Elias and Alex stood side by side now, not touching, not looking at each other — but bound.
No harmony. Just their voices singing the same words in different tones.
Alex: clear, surgical, stubborn.
Elias: raw, cautious, almost breaking.
And then—
> "If you hear me, don't cheer me—"
"Just remember I bled it."
The last chord fell like a held breath finally exhaled.
Elias let his hands slide off the keys.
Alex's mic lowered an inch.
And for a full five seconds—
Silence.
Nobody moved. Nobody clapped.
Not because they didn't know how to react —
but because they were afraid doing anything would ruin what they'd just witnessed.
Then—
From somewhere deep in the crowd, a single clap.
Then another.
Then the dam broke.
The room exploded.
Not like they were cheering a concert.
Like they were releasing something they didn't realize they'd been holding.
Phones came back up. Names were shouted.
"ELIAS!"
"THAT'S HIM!"
"WHO WROTE THAT?"
"DUNPHY'S A GODDESS!"
Jenna Ortiz sat two rows from the front.
Back stiff. Hands folded. Lip twitching.
She didn't clap.
But her silence was louder than the applause.
Alex glanced over, saw her — and didn't smirk.
Just turned back toward Elias.
Elias didn't bow. Didn't wave.
He just looked out at the crowd, blankly, like he couldn't quite register that any of this was real.
And beside him, Alex whispered just loud enough for him to hear:
"You didn't fall apart."