Riding on the tumultuous winds of the previous day's events, the Love You Forevers— energized by a new sense of purpose— convened to discuss the dire need of practice for the residency and their first album, whose session loomed only two days away.

In the storeroom of the shop, they had gathered and taken their positions around two couches which Sísí had commandeered from the shop front. A buzz of conversation roiled outside, as Sísí greeted the return of the old bohemian regulars on the first night of the new impromptu venue's performance, which she was heading.

Sylvia took in two big lungfuls of breath, then threw her hands down on a small table which had been brought between the couches. “Ladies and gentlemen, we welcome you to the first ever Love You Forevers' band meeting!”

“Why are we only just having one now?” Marion quipped.

Sylvia ignored him and produced a stack of papers before her, scrawled in messy handwriting, which she shuffled.

“Now, the first item of discussion— The Strawberry Set residency!” Sylvia exclaimed, and drummed thematically on the table.

“Yeah— there's no way we can play every night,” Cecil immediately began.

“Man, you play the piano— just soak your fingers in water every night and you'll be fine. If anyone should be complaining, it's me!”

Cecil's face immediately contorted toward Marion in a look of rage, requiring Sylvia to rush in between the two. “How are we ever gonna take over the world if we can't even handle playing a measly show every night, huh?” she proclaimed, stomping her foot.

“You sound like Aster,” Cecil groaned, falling back in his chair with a huff.

“Since when do you give compliments?”

Aster's applehead rose upon hearing her name. With nervous, doe-like eyes she looked at the group peering back at her.

“I'm sure Aster's pumped!” Sylvia said, thrusting her arm upward in a playful gesture.

Aster seemed to shrink under their gaze. “Yeah,” she whispered weakly, like air being let out of a leaky balloon.

Cecil knit his brow. “I thought you'd be telling us how we'd put the Cherubs in unmarked graves,” he quipped.

“Why are we even playing with those jerk-offs?” interjected Marion.

“I just don't think it's a great idea for us to burn out before we even get started,” Cecil continued, ignoring him.

“Burn out? This is us just getting started, man! This is the warm up!— no pain, no gain!” Marion barked, breaking into a devilish grin as he pumped his bicep.

“I can handle it, Cecil! Believe me, I can shred for days!” Sylvia implored, twiddling her pink fingers.

“Shred?” Cecil said, looking at Sylvia in perplexment.

“Yeah, that's what Aster calls playing real fast!” she answered, giggling.

Aster blushed and looked away.

“Okay, but you're forgetting we haven't even practiced a single song yet.”

“Well that's why we're here, isn't it?” chided Sylvia.

Cecil frowned and turned to Aster. “Are you ready to start practicing tonight?”

“Tonight?” Aster replied in alarm, turning to him suddenly and flushing even redder.

Cecil raised an eyebrow.

“Yes— the session is in two days, Aster. We should've been practicing constantly already.”

“Writing fourteen whole songs is not easy, Cecil!” Sylvia admonished.

“I understand that, Sylvia. That's why I kept asking over and over if she was really up for it and was repeatedly told yes—”

“So, we're really playing with the Cherubs, huh?” interjected Marion again, gruffly.

Cecil looked at him in annoyance. “This is a lot more important than our opener right now,” he groaned.

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Marion frowned. “Man, I'm just tryin' to not have to knock some heads around.”

“What did I tell you about violence?!” Sylvia shrieked, jumping a little, frustrated jump.

“I'm just sayin'! We weren't exactly kissing each other on the cheek the last time we saw them.”

“We're here to figure out how to help the band, and all you can think of is being a knucklehead!”

Marion scoffed, growing red.

“What do you think I'm trying to do?! I'm askin' the question cuz' I don't want to have another riot on our hands again! What are we gonna do if they run out on us again?!”

“Half the riot was you going out there and working them up!” Cecil groaned.

“Well I'm sorry that I'm just that exciting of a view—”

Sylvia puffed her cheeks in irritation.

“Do we have anything nice to bring up?!” she angrily peeped, staring sternly at both boys as she crossed her arms.

Marion raised his hand properly.

“Yes, Marion?” she said, tapping her foot.

“Word from our contact is that copies of the first single will be ready to sell in time for opening night.”

Her reprimanding glower faded, and suddenly the entire group, including Aster, lit up.

“For real?!” Sylvia squealed.

“That's so fast,” Aster said in quiet amazement.

“We were able to put some pressure on them— with the help of the boys down at the bar,” Marion chuckled, again grinning.

“Aster!” Sylvia said, grabbing her hands. “We're gonna have a record! A real record!”

“With our name on it for once,” Aster said dryly under her breath.

“Yeah, but—” Cecil attempted to interject.

“We can sell them on tour!” exclaimed Sylvia with wide open arms.

“What are you talking about?” Cecil said, looking confused.

“Aster had the idea of setting up a booth where we could sell merchandise for the band!” she said excitedly, pointing to Aster. Aster seemed terribly unwilling to accept responsibility and slumped further into her bad posture as Sylvia continued on.

“We could put Marcy in charge of the booth while we're playing!”

Marion's good mood seemed to be revived by this idea, for he rose to his feet, an oafish expression of excitement in his eyes.

“A tour!” he said greedily. Cecil immediately began to shake his head.

“We don't have songs!”

"We need to get out there and start playing, man!"

"Yeah, and I agree— when we have songs!"

Cecil massaged— or rather, dug— into his eyes, for it was the only thing he could do to stop himself from losing his mind to the stress. The hectic week had come and gone in a flash, and though the days until the faithful session had steadily decreased, not a single attempt at practice was made— this being because no member of the Love You Forevers dared ask Aster about the progress of the fourteen songs.

It was an unspoken acknowledgment between the three that their only hope was that Aster would suddenly deliver— and if that did not materialize, then they would have to hatch a plan.

The terminus had been reached.

Aster was shaking, turning her eyes near halfway in their sockets she fought the glances of her bandmates so intensely.

"Aster, if you're having trouble then tell us and we can figure something out," he finally implored, hoping to draw any response out of her.

The sharp clack of Sylvia's little foot against the floor blunted Cecil's continuation. The expression on her face was like being stared at by an angry cupcake— it symbolized Sylvia yanking the leash on anyone who was prodding Aster more than she could handle. Cecil held his tongue but shifted his gaze sternly towards Sylvia, who met it with a serious look of her own.

Over the next fifteen minutes, the group engaged in the rough hashing out of a tour plan. Aster contributed almost nothing to it outside of a few monosyllabic utterances coaxed out by Sylvia, and in the end it was agreed that the band would embark on a two-week tour starting from Cherryaire and heading north, where they would find stops at most major cities in the country.

As the discussion intensified, the excitement of Sylvia and Marion grew to a fever pitch, as both— never having left the periphery of Peppermint Plains and Cherryaire— grew incredibly thrilled at the prospect of finally having a vacation of sorts.

This tour would commence immediately following the last night of the residency at the end of February, and would serve to waste not a single second of the whiplash release schedule which was now coming upon them.

Aster sat through the entirety of the discussion growing increasingly agitated, where upon the final triumphant peep of Sylvia sealing the plans, she now looked just a hair's breadth away from bursting into tears.

The delicate girl shook, and was noticed by her bandmates.

Sylvia moved to comfort her, when Cecil began to speak once again.

“Aster,” he said, though in a much softer tone than earlier. “We have to start practicing— now. Either you let me help you or we're going to have to go Neil and have him push back the session.”

“No,” Aster hissed. The quiet sounds of sniffling followed, and she hid her face now clearly from view. Her hands balled up. “We're not postponing anything.”

“We don't have songs.”

“We're not postponing anything,” she growled, now falling into sniveling fits.

Sylvia walked over to Aster, putting her arm around her shoulder. “There, there,” she cooed, which only turned Aster's quiet sniffling into full-on, deep sobs.

She exhaled deeply between each cry— a deep, guttural breath— like a massive weight had finally been lifted off of her chest. Her cries became hysteric, and in no time Sylvia was hugging her tightly.

Marion sat awkwardly at the other end of the couch while Cecil fell into his characteristic collapse of dropping his head into his hands.

“I knew it!” he bemoaned. “You really haven't written anything!” There was a glassy panic in his eye as he lifted his head back up.

“What are we going to do?!” he cried, distraught. “How the fuck are we going to pay them back? If they drop us nobody is going to take us again!”

“Cecil,” Marion tried to interrupt. “Don't worry, man, we can—”

“You think I don't fucking know that?!” Aster screamed, tearing her face away from Sylvia's embrace.

“Yeah, but you didn't have to do it all on your fucking own, did you?!” he yelled, growing red in the face. “Why didn't you ask for my help?!”

Aster looked at him, mouthed some failed wordless response, collapsing into tears in Sylvia's arms.

“Cecil—” Sylvia started when he rose from his chair.

“Instead of being so fucking stubborn,” he said, almost sounding as though he were forcing the words through his teeth. He turned to face the storeroom door.

“—Why don't you ask for my help?”