“I had no idea how messy my house was. This place is like a museum,” Dan said, looking around Freya’s room.

Freya sat on the bed tuning her Ovation. She raised an eyebrow at Dan and started to play “Everything in its Right Place.”

But Dan didn’t recognize the melody or get her little joke. She felt a pang of undeserved disappointment. Dan wasn’t musical. She shouldn’t expect him to recognize a synthesizer line played on an acoustic guitar. She finished tuning; every string was also in its right place.

“What’s your favorite song?” Freya asked, patting a spot on the bed next to her. He settled beside her, and she reached over and set her hand on his shoulder just because she could. He felt so solid.

“Oh, I don’t have a favorite,” Dan said. She took her hand back, plucked a harmonic and stared at him.

“Dan, everyone has a favorite song. Don’t be so shy,” she teased. Here in her room, holding her guitar, Freya felt very confident. She could take the lead.

“It’s “Angie,”” Dan said softly. She took a deep breath. Freya felt like such a fool for pressing him. She decided to take a chance.

“Is it okay if I play it for you?”

“Really? Do you know it?”

“I love the Stones. I know a lot of their songs.”

Freya made up her mind if she wanted to sing. She was so much more confident in her playing than her singing. She had been meaning to ask Mr. Mathis to recommend a singing teacher for a long time, but she was almost certain he’d just shake his head and tell her to stick to guitar.

“Okay, just don’t make me cry,” Dan joked.

“No promises.” Freya smiled back at him. She knew right away she was going to sing. She’d watched a few videos teaching the song, but she didn’t like the ones where singers tried to copy Mick Jagger’s intonation. They never quite nailed it, and it didn’t feel honest. Freya had practiced the song bare, with no frills or pretense. She hoped it would sound okay.

Freya noodled at the opening notes, trying to remember the start. It had been a long time since she’d practiced the song. She could almost hear Mr. Mathis telling her to take it easy, her heart beating too fast. After a few blunders, her memory locked into place, and she started over.

It was such a pretty beginning, one of her absolute favorites. The feeling of Dan just inches away on the bed kept intruding, and she shut her eyes, focusing on the song.

The doubling sensation Freya had felt in the car was sliding in behind her thoughts. The sound of the guitar rang at her from two directions at once and, though her eyes were shut, she still saw herself playing, the vision as thin as a daydream.

She almost chickened out when she got to the first singing part, but the shimmering, flowing feeling was settling over her, and she didn’t want it to stop. She felt Dan’s surprise as she sang out, “Angie.” He hadn’t expected this, and he was alarmed, afraid of where the music might take him. It nearly made her miss the second, “Angie.” But her fingers knew the way, the notes never faltering.

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Self-consciousness crowded out the other feelings. She couldn’t hit all the notes she wanted to. At places her voice wasn’t quite there, and the flaws dug at her. But Dan couldn’t hear those notes. He was spellbound. Feeling him swept along with the song let her relax, and the sense of doubling became too strong to ignore.

She experienced every breath Dan took, the nervous energy in his fingers even as hers danced over the frets. She felt as if the world was split in half. She missed a note, and her eyes opened, and she found herself staring at him, overcome.

The thin daydream bloomed into a full vision. Her eyes were at once blue and brown. It was as if she was simultaneously looking at Dan and into a mirror. As she took a breath to recompose. He did the same, and there was only one heartbeat between them.

For a second, Freya felt a harmony between them, a spreading joy in each chest. But Dan was afraid. He tried to peel away, and the link quivered with strain. Freya wanted the feeling very badly, that desire increasing his fear.

She took a deep breath and tried to let it go. She needed to find something he could hold on to. A thought sprang into her mind and rippled to his.

Think of it like you’re running.

Together, they watched mutual surprise register on their faces. They were both swirling with thoughts of running, the moment when the pain faded and the noises in their ears grew distant. There was a place where there was only motion, only the desire to continue, something they both sought. Understanding bloomed between them. They spoke the same language now, Unity returning.

When he was calm, Freya began to play. She found the music again and let it carry them both. The Starball burned at her hip, and they both felt it, but there was no room for questions. There was only the song.

When Freya finished, there were tears running down their faces. They were overloaded. The feeling was too strong for them to hold on their own. She slid the guitar onto the bed. Memories swelled all around Dan, surging up from the echoes. He was exposed and afraid.

“I know,” Freya said aloud, little more than a whisper. She was the strong one here, the one who knew the right things to say. Everything was in those two words, relief, acceptance, understanding. They embraced, drawing as close as they could, but it wasn’t nearly enough. They tumbled towards something, and they shared a fear that, if they began, they could not stop.

“FREYA! The police are here!” Lassa called from the living room. Her voice cut through the door.

They halted as if they’d been rear-ended at a stoplight. Freya and Dan blinked at each other. The connection faltered. They were two people now, sitting on a bed, grasping for something vital they’d lost.

“What’s happening to us?” Dan asked, finding his voice before her.

“I don’t know,” Freya said.

“Am I high? Was there something in the chocolate?”

“No, it’s something else,” Freya began, with a desperate need to tell him everything, but there was so much it seemed impossible to begin. He saw the images she drew, but he could not understand them. The spell faded. The last echoes of the doubling were as thin as wisps of smoke between them.

Freya caught a last, flickering image of someone with dark hair and dark eyes, leaning in towards Dan. Alarm flashed in his eyes, and he covered his face with his hands and turned away. The rejection was stunning. Whatever that was, he didn’t want to share it. Freya took a sharp breath and found that she was alone.

Lassa was calling to them, but neither could speak. Freya couldn’t even move, she felt punctured, like a butterfly pinned in a display. When they didn’t answer Lassa’s urgent knock, she entered, looking alarmed. All they could do was stare, her voice seemed very far away. The Starball burned in Freya’s pocket, but it could not reach her. Lassa stood in front of them, trying to get their attention.

“Freya! What’s wrong?” Lassa demanded, shaking her shoulder.

“Everything,” Freya replied.

A low, distant singing, the calm spread as the Starball began its work.

“We need a few minutes, please?”

Lassa left them and went back to the door where the police waited.