Chapter Seventeen — A Week Later & Concert Chaos
(Sienna's pov)
A week later, and I was running on equal parts adrenaline, caffeine, and sheer panic.
Concert prep was officially underway. Posters, setlists, lighting, rehearsals, music producers — everything that went into a single show now had my name on it. I had spent most of the week juggling filming, sponsor obligations, and social media notifications that never, ever, stopped.
My phone buzzed incessantly on my desk — fan edits from the viral rain scene, clips of Episode Four, theories about Axel and me, and messages from Ember that ranged from "YOU NEED TO BREATHE" to "HOW ARE YOU STILL ALIVE?!?"
I sighed, rubbing my temples. Twenty-two, famous since sixteen, acting, singing, and now arranging a concert on top of it all. Why do I do this to myself?
"Because you're Sienna Everglow," Axel's voice teased from the doorway.
I glanced up. Dark hair mussed, blazer slightly wrinkled from the morning chaos, smirk in place. He leaned casually against the doorframe, hands in pockets. My chest skipped. Of course it did.
"Don't remind me," I muttered.
He stepped closer, voice dropping. "You're doing this because you want it. You love it. And secretly… you thrive on chaos."
I glared. "I hate chaos. And secretly thriving? That's a lie."
"Sure," he said, smirk widening, "keep telling yourself that while you schedule rehearsals at midnight."
Ember burst in like a whirlwind, arms loaded with music sheets, coffee cups, and what looked like emergency chocolate.
"SIS! Okay, so the concert promo went live, and people are freaking out. Fans are already creating merch edits, concert banners, even fan-made setlists for you. And, oh my god, Axel. They ship you two harder than ever."
I groaned, dropping my head onto the desk. "Why is the internet obsessed with everything we do?"
Axel leaned over my shoulder, dark eyes glinting. "Because it's… us."
"Stop," I muttered, blushing. "And please don't smirk while saying it."
Rehearsals were a circus. Music producers argued over arrangements, backup dancers collided mid-choreography, and I was frantically adjusting setlists while trying to remember my lines for the next episode of The Last Page.
Axel, ever the unbothered one, had somehow become my partner in concert chaos management. He was making phone calls, giving feedback on stage lighting, and sneaking me water when I forgot to drink.
"You're impossible," I said as he handed me a bottle, fingers brushing mine again.
"You love it," he replied softly.
I groaned but didn't argue.
By afternoon, the stress had reached peak levels.
"Okay," I muttered, pacing in the rehearsal room, "we need a full run-through tonight. Stage, lights, soundcheck. Ember, stop eating all the emergency chocolate, and Axel — don't accidentally light me on fire with the pyrotechnics again."
He grinned, dark eyes teasing. "That happened once."
I gave him a look that could have killed. "Once?! I nearly combusted!"
Ember clapped dramatically. "Sis, calm down. You're glowing, and the internet will lose it when they see the rehearsal pics tomorrow."
I sighed. "Glowing, sure. Drowning, mostly."
Later, during a quiet break, Axel and I found ourselves alone in the rehearsal room. Music hummed faintly in the background, stage lights casting shadows across the floor.
"You're really doing this," he said quietly, voice low, almost hesitant. "A concert in a month, while filming, viral chaos everywhere… insane, even for you."
I shrugged, biting my lip. "Yeah, well… since I hate myself, I figured why not? The fans, the chaos, the pressure… it's fine. Totally fine."
He stepped closer, dark eyes searching mine. "You don't hate yourself."
I laughed nervously. "Maybe not… but it feels like it sometimes."
His hand brushed mine — intentional this time — warm and grounding. "Then let me help. Not just the concert, not just the chaos. Me. You don't have to survive it alone."
My heart stuttered. "Axel… I…"
He smiled, that soft, quiet smile that made the world slow down. "I know. We'll figure it out. Together."
By the end of the day, rehearsal chaos had simmered down, but the tension between us didn't. The touches, the glances, the unspoken sparks — fans would have killed for a glimpse. And tomorrow, social media would explode again when rehearsal photos leaked, showing us side by side, laughing, brushing hands, working together.
I looked at him, brushing hair out of my eyes. "You know… this concert thing? It's terrifying. But… I'm glad you're here."
He smirked softly. "Of course. I wouldn't miss it. Not for the world. Not for anything."
And in that moment, behind the chaos, behind the viral edits, behind the fame and pressure… it felt like we were the only two people who mattered.