The midnight mix

Chapter 8

The heavy velvet curtains of Set 4 finally closed, but the ghost of that final hug still clung to the skin of both artists as they retreated to their respective dressing rooms. The air in the hallways felt different now thicker, quieter, and loaded with unspoken realizations.

Twenty minutes later, the "ethereal star" from the music video was completely gone.

Liora emerged from her dressing room, having scrubbed off the stage makeup and shed the wet silk. She was back in her ultimate comfort zone: an oversized heather-grey shirt that collar-drifted off one shoulder, and her signature baggy black sweatpants. The sweatpants hung dangerously low on her hips, exposing the sharp, pale lines of her waist and the slight curve of her hip bones. Her ink-black hair was damp but free, framing her face in loose waves.

Cairo was already leaning against the editing bay wall, back in his heavy combat boots, ripped jeans, and a sleeveless black muscle shirt.

When Liora walked into the room, Cairo’s eyes automatically darted down to where those sweatpants sat on Liora's hips. He quickly looked up at the ceiling, his ears turning a furious shade of pink.

For the first five minutes, the silence in the room was suffocating.

Liora stood on the far left side of the room, intensely studying a fire extinguisher as if it were a priceless piece of modern art.

Cairo stood on the far right, aggressively chewing on a plastic straw, staring at a blank monitor. They wouldn't look at each other. They wouldn't breathe in each other's direction. The tension was so thick that the editor at the computer looked like he wanted to crawl under his desk and cry.

But five minutes was the absolute limit for these two.

"The editing on the second track looks a little slow," Liora murmured, breaking the ice with a flat, critical tone.

"Especially during your verse. It lacks... precision."

Cairo pulled the straw out of his mouth, a mock offensive scoff escaping his lips. "Precision? My verse was a sniper bullet, Princess. Your vocals on the sad song sounded like a leaky faucet. Drip, drip, drip. The editor is practically doing magic tricks to make your lines sound like they have a pulse."

"My lines had emotion," Liora turned, her dark blue eyes narrowing as she stepped closer. "Your lines sounded like you were arguing with a fast-food intercom. You don't rap, Cairo. You just yell rhythmically."

"Oh, really?" Cairo chuckled darkly, stepping forward until his 6'1" frame was towering over Liora again, completely forgetting the awkwardness from twenty minutes ago. "I yell? Let me remind you how you sound when you try to do a 'run' in the chorus."

Cairo puffed out his chest, puckered his lips, and let out a dramatic, breathy whisper. "Ohhh, the stars are so shiny, please look at my tears~" He fluttered his eyelashes mockingly. "You sound like a ghost who lost its keys!"

Liora’s jaw dropped. "I do not sound like that! My vocal control is flawless! If you want to talk about bad vocals, let's talk about your deep voice register."

Liora decided she was going to give Cairo a taste of his own medicine. She planted her feet, crossed her arms over her chest, and tried to drop her soft, melodic voice into the deepest, roughest, most aggressive baritone she could muster to mimic Cairo’s rap style.

"LISTEN HERE—cough—I'M THE—WHEEZE—"

Before Liora could even finish the first line of her parody, her vocal cords completely revolted against the unnatural depth. A sharp, violent cough ripped through his throat. Her face instantly turned a brilliant shade of scarlet, her hands flying to her neck as she bent double, completely choking on her own spit.

"Liora!" Cassian was there in a flash.

The manager practically teleported across the room, grabbed a bottle of water from the table, and popped the cap.

He shoved it into Liora’s hand while using his other hand to firmly rub Liora’s back, helping her catch her breath. As he did, Cassian threw a lethal, venomous side-eye toward Cairo, his heterochromia eyes flashing with pure annoyance. Look what you did to my singer.

Cairo, however, was absolutely gone.

He had dropped his hands to his knees, his head thrown back as a loud, booming, unfiltered laugh shook his entire chest. "Oh my god! You tried to be a monster and you choked on air! That was pathetic! Someone calls an ambulance, the Midnight Beauty just took herself out!"

Axel stood next to Cairo, crossing his arms with a deeply apologetic, sheepish smile. He looked at Cassian, raising his hands in a silent gesture of 'I am so sorry, my i***t has no manners.'

Liora finally managed to take a sip of water, her chest heaving as the coughing fit subsided. Through a fringe of messy black hair, her eyes glared daggers at the cackling boxer.

"I was... cough... demonstrating your lack of melody," Liora wheezed, her voice sounding entirely raspy now, which only made Cairo laugh harder.

"Yeah, well, next time leave the growling to the professionals, Princess," Cairo wiped a tear from his eye, his violet eyes bright and sparkling with genuine amusement.

The heavy, confusing romantic tension from the MV set was completely gone, replaced by their comfortable, ridiculous rivalry. But as Liora stood there, pouting and drinking her water while Cairo smiled at her without any real malice, both of their hearts were still beating just a little bit faster than normal.

The blue tint of the editing monitors cast long, cool shadows across the studio room. It was past 1:00 AM. The click of the editor's mouse and the low hum of the air conditioning were the only sounds left. They were waiting for a late-night food delivery to arrive, but the exhausting fourteen-hour shoot had finally taken its toll.

Liora had completely crashed.

She was curled up on the large leather sofa in the corner of the room. True to her usual style, her long legs were tucked up toward her chest, and she was hugging a plush studio pillow tightly against her like a shield. Her ink-black hair fell over her closed eyes, her long eyelashes casting soft shadows on her flushed cheeks. In the dim, ambient light of the studio, she didn't look like a chart-topping pop star or a fierce rival. She looked soft, peaceful, and entirely defenseless.

Cairo was sitting on the opposite end of the same couch, his long legs stretched out in front of him. He had been mindlessly scrolling through Twitter, but his thumb had stopped moving. Slowly, he lowered his phone, letting the screen go dark.

He just watched Liora sleep.

She looks like a damn painting, Cairo thought, his chest tightening in a way that had nothing to do with boxing or adrenaline.

Cairo didn't know what had gotten into him. The walls he had built up over years of living on the streets, the aggressive armor he used to protect himself from the greedy music industry, felt entirely useless in this quiet room. The urge to be near Liora, to protect this rare, quiet side of her, was overwhelming.

Moving as silently as a ghost, Cairo stood up. He grabbed a soft black fleece blanket from the back of an armchair. He walked over to Liora's side of the couch and carefully, almost breathlessly, draped the blanket over Liora’s shoulders, pulling it up to her chin. Liora let out a tiny, soft sigh in her sleep, nuzzling deeper into the pillow, but she didn't wake up.

Cairo lingered for a second, his eyes tracing the soft curve of Liora’s jaw. Then, instead of walking away, Cairo quietly sat back down on the edge of the couch, right by Liora’s feet. He leaned his head back against the cushions, his large frame relaxing as the warmth of the room settled over him. Within minutes, the rhythmic sound of Liora’s breathing lulled the tired boxer into a deep sleep of his own.

The Managers' Watch.

A few minutes later, the door softly clicked open. Cassian walked in holding a massive bag of takeout container boxes, with Axel trailing right behind him.

Cassian stopped dead in his tracks. His heterochromia eyes immediately locked onto the couch.

Seeing Cairo sleeping so close to Liora’s feet instantly triggered Cassian's ultimate protective instincts. Cassian had basically raised Liora from the moment she entered the industry as a lonely teenager.

He was fiercely defensive of her. Cairo’s eyes narrowed into a lethal glare, and he set the food bag down on the table with a sharp, silent force, looking like he was ready to wake Cairo up with a lecture on personal boundaries.

Before Cassian could step forward, a heavy, warm hand clapped onto his shoulder.

Axel was grinning from ear to ear, his bright eyes wrinkling with a soft, knowing amusement. He shook his head gently, silently telling Cassian to stand down. Axel knew how lonely Cairo had been for the last six years, and seeing his stubborn "younger brother" finally find peace next to someone was a sight he wasn't going to let Cassian ruin.

With a quiet chuckle, Axel walked over to the armchair, picked up a second jacket, and carefully laid it over Cairo’s broad, scarred shoulders, tucking him in just as Cairo had done for Liora.

Cassian crossed his arms, letting out a long, defeated but soft sigh. He looked at the two of them, the "Beast" and the "Beauty", sleeping peacefully on the same couch, the fierce rivalry completely forgotten in the quiet of the night.

They weren't fighting the world tonight. They were just two tired people who had finally found a safe place to land.