Summary: Yeah I know I had to split in two the last chapter and this is about when they decide what the band name would be and how they would performance at the show

Fang awoke with a start, their room quiet in the early morning light. A sheen of cold sweat clung to their skin, and the remnants of the dream clung to their consciousness, a haunting echo of fear and doubt.

Taking deep breaths to slow their racing heart, Fang tried to shake off the lingering unease. It was just a dream, they reminded themselves, but it bore the weight of their deepest anxieties, the vulnerability that came with laying their dreams bare for judgment.

With the show just hours away, Fang knew they couldn't let fear dictate their performance. They had prepared, practiced, and poured themselves into their music. They had a dedicated team in Trish, Reed, and even Naser in his own way. They had to trust in their talents, in the bond they shared with their bandmates, and in the passion that fueled their journey.

Clinging to the resolve that their dreams were worth the risk, Fang pushed aside the nightmarish doubt. They would face the day with determination, for they were not alone on this stage of life. The show was more than an opportunity; it was a testament to their journey, and they would give it everything they had. After all, the dream was not just about impressing a producer; it was about living their truth through the music they loved.

 

Still feeling the remnants of the dream's unease, Fang reached for their phone on the bedside table. The screen lit up the dim room, displaying a few notifications, but what Fang sought was the comforting indicator of a friend's online presence. They needed a distraction, someone to pull their mind away from the spiraling thoughts.

Swiping through various apps, Fang's eyes landed on a small green dot next to Trish's name. Relief washed over them; Trish was always there when Fang needed her, grounding and understanding. Without hesitation, they tapped on her name to send a message.

"Hey, you up? Could use some company." Fang typed quickly, the clatter of their fingertips against the screen feeling somewhat grounding.

It took only moments for Trish to respond, her message accompanied by the familiar ping. "Yeah, can't sleep either. Pre-show jitters?"

"Sort of. Bad dream. Mind if I call?" Fang replied, the idea of hearing Trish's voice already starting to calm the storm within them.

"Of course, hit me up!"

With a deep breath that felt like it was anchoring them back in reality, Fang initiated the call. The dial tone seemed to echo in the silence of their room, but then Trish's voice filled the space, warm and immediate.

"Hey, Fang. Bad dream, huh?" she asked softly, concern threading through her tone.

Fang let out a shaky laugh, grateful for the connection. "Yeah, the classic 'we worked hard, but it all went wrong' nightmare. I guess I'm more anxious than I thought."

Trish hummed sympathetically. "It's a big day, we're all a bit on edge. But remember, we've got this. We've practiced, we're prepared, and we're doing what we love. No dream, good or bad, can tell us what's going to happen."

They talked about everything and nothing — a little about the show, some random school gossip, and even the new café that opened up near school. Trish's knack for light-hearted banter worked its magic, the earlier tension slowly dissolving as they chatted.

Before they knew it, the first light of dawn was filtering through the curtains, casting gentle light into the room. They ended the call with a promise to meet up early and go through a relaxation routine Trish swore by before big events.

Fang set their phone down, feeling significantly lighter. The conversation had been a simple one, but it provided a much-needed reminder: they weren't facing this day alone. They had friends by their side, and together, they'd face whatever came their way, turning dreams — good and bad — into their shared reality. With this comforting thought, Fang finally felt the tension ease enough to attempt a few more hours of sleep before the day that could change their lives.

 

The soft morning light filtered through the windows, casting a warm glow across the living room where Naser was just stirring. His papers, sketches of stage designs and lighting plans, were scattered around him like a testament to a night of hard work and dedication. As he blinked the sleep from his eyes, he noticed his phone lighting up with a notification. It was a message from Fang, sent in the wee hours of the morning.

Rubbing his eyes, Naser picked up his phone and squinted to read the text. It was clear from her words that Fang had a rough night, her message conveying the unease of a bad dream and the anxiety it brought with it. He was still processing her words when he heard the familiar creak of stairs and looked up to see Fang descending, her usual morning aura slightly dimmed.

"Morning," Fang greeted, forcing a tired smile, her eyes taking in the mess of papers and her brother amidst it all. "You slept here all night?"

Naser nodded, stifling a yawn. "Yeah, had some final touches to make. Then I guess I crashed. Just read your message, though. Rough night?"

Fang shrugged, pulling a chair to sit opposite him. "Yeah, you could say that. Just some anxiety playing tricks on me, I guess. It's nothing."

But Naser frowned, knowing better. "It's not 'nothing' if it kept you up. Want to talk about it?"

Fang hesitated for a moment, then sighed, the events of the dream pouring out of her in a quiet torrent — the excitement, the music, and the soul-crushing disappointment from the faceless producer. Naser listened intently, understanding more than Fang might have expected. He knew all too well the pressure of performance, the weight of expectations, and the fear of not meeting them.

When she finished, he leaned forward, earnestness in his orange eyes. "You know that's just your brain messing with you, right? We're all nervous, and it's making us imagine the worst-case scenarios. But we've worked hard, Fang. All of us. We're ready for this."

Fang met his gaze, finding comfort in the conviction of his words. "I know, I know. It's just hard to shake the feeling."

Naser reached across the table, giving her hand a reassuring squeeze. "Hey, we've got your back, okay? No dream can predict the passion, the energy, or the heart we're going to put into this performance. We're going to rock that stage, and nothing will stand in our way, least of all a bad dream."

Fang couldn't help but smile, warmth spreading through her at her brother's words. It was exactly what she needed to hear. "Thanks, Naser. That means a lot, really."

The two sat in companionable silence for a moment, the quiet of the morning wrapping around them like a comforting blanket. Then, with a renewed sense of determination, they started their day, each finding strength in the other's resolve. They were more than siblings; they were teammates, ready to face the challenges ahead, together.

 

The morning light had grown brighter, casting the room in a golden hue, a stark contrast to the tumult of emotions that had clouded the night. As Fang collected her bag, Naser stood up, stretching his wings to dispel the stiffness from sleeping slumped over his sketches.

"Hey, Fang," he began, hesitancy in his voice, not wanting to intrude but genuinely concerned, "how about we walk to school together today? You know, if there's more you want to talk about or even just to have some company."

Fang turned, surprise and a flicker of gratitude in her orange eyes. Naser was always there, a constant in her life, but this deliberate extension of support meant more than he probably realized, especially today. "Yeah, I'd like that," she replied, her smile more genuine this time.

The walk to school was a familiar path, but this morning it felt a little different. The air was crisp, the world around them coming to life, and with Naser by her side, Fang felt a steady strength that helped keep the lingering shadows of her anxiety at bay.

They talked about everything — and nothing. Naser shared his ideas about the stage setup, his excitement about how the lighting would highlight each performer, creating just the right atmosphere. Fang listened, her mind occasionally drifting, but she found herself carried along by his enthusiasm.

When the silence turned to Fang's performance, Naser didn't press. He simply offered a presence, an open space where Fang could unravel her thoughts and fears if she chose. And eventually, she did.

"It's like this weight, you know?" Fang started, her voice barely above a whisper as she spoke the heart of her worries into the space between them. "This dream of music, it's everything to me. But what if it's not enough? What if I'm not enough?"

Naser listened, his heart aching with the depth of Fang's vulnerability. "You are enough," he said firmly, his voice strong with conviction. "You're amazing, Fang. Your passion, your music... it speaks for itself. Remember why you love it, why you chose it. That love, that joy you feel when you play — that's your strength. No one can take that from you."

As they neared the school, the sight of familiar faces and the buzz of day-to-day activities began to ground the siblings back in the present moment. Fang took a deep breath, feeling lighter having shared her burden.

"Thanks, Naser," she murmured, nudging him playfully as they approached the school gates. "I don't know what I'd do without you."

Grinning, Naser nudged her back. "Probably get lost in your own head. But don't worry, I've always got your back. Now, let's go rock this day!"

And with that, the two stepped into the bustling school grounds, a team united, ready to face whatever the day held for them.

 

The school yard was abuzz with the chaotic energy of students reuniting after the brief separation that the night brings. Fang waved goodbye to Naser, watching him disappear into the crowd with a light heart. She turned to head to her usual meeting spot and wasn't surprised to find Trish already there, the violet triceratops leaning casually against a wall.

"Morning, Fang!" Trish greeted, her voice a comforting melody amidst the cacophony of the yard.

"Morning, Trish," Fang replied with a smile, the presence of her friend washing away the last vestiges of her earlier anxiety.

They engaged in small talk, discussing trivial matters and the latest school gossip, but there was an underlying current of anticipation. They were both waiting for Reed, knowing the real conversation wouldn't start until the trio was complete.

It wasn't long before a familiar pink figure approached, his purple eyes bright and alert despite the early hour. "Hey, you two," Reed called out as he joined them, his usual confidence in place.

The dynamic shifted the moment Reed arrived, the air charged with the collective energy of their group — the trio that had been through thick and thin together.

"Big day tomorrow," Reed started, not one to dance around the topic everyone was thinking about. "How's everyone holding up?"

Fang and Trish exchanged glances before Fang spoke up. "We're...managing," she admitted, not wanting to dwell on her nighttime anxieties. "Just some last-minute jitters, you know?"

"Totally normal," Trish chimed in, offering a supportive smile. "We're going to be great, though. We've practiced hard."

The conversation then delved into the specifics — they talked about the setlist, the arrangement of their instruments, and the transitions between songs. Reed, ever the unexpected source of practicality, pulled out a notepad where he'd scribbled a checklist of things to remember for their performance.

As they talked, Fang found herself getting caught up in the excitement of her friends. Their passion was infectious, and the looming fear from her dream began to seem distant and unfounded. They were in this together, and that unity gave her strength.

The bell's shrill ring signaled the start of the school day, pulling them out of their bubble. They gathered their things, but before they split to head to their respective classes, they huddled close, a pact of solidarity forming in their linked arms.

"No matter what happens, we're in this together," Reed declared, his eyes serious, but his lips turned up in a confident grin.

"Together," Trish and Fang echoed, the word a shared promise.

They broke apart, each heading in different directions, but Fang couldn't help the feeling of warmth that stayed with her. They were more than friends; they were bandmates, each a crucial note in the harmony they created, and tomorrow, they would show the world just that.

 

As the trio headed toward their first class, a new commotion at the school entrance caught their attention. Students were parting to make way for a striking figure whose presence commanded attention despite her short stature. She was a dinosaur like no other they'd seen — species indiscernible but aged, her short hair a stark black-and-white contrast, her clothing exuding a classic rock vibe. The spiked jacket, black jeans, and boots were like something out of a vintage music video.

Fang, Trish, and Reed came to an abrupt halt, their eyes wide as they watched her stride confidently through the school gates, a wave of murmurs following in her wake.

"Is that...?" Fang began, unable to hide the tremor of excitement in her voice.

"It's got to be," Trish whispered in awe. "I heard rumors that a big-time music producer was scouting during the school shows this season, but I didn't dare to believe..."

Reed, usually the most composed, seemed momentarily lost for words. "She looks like she's walked straight out of a rock 'n' roll hall of fame," he finally managed, admiration evident in his tone.

The three friends exchanged glances, a silent agreement passing between them. This was an unforeseen opportunity, a chance that could change everything for them. The weight of the moment settled, a mix of excitement and nerves.

"We need to make sure our performance is perfect," Reed said, the determination setting his jaw.

Fang nodded, her mind racing. The presence of a real-life producer, someone who had seen countless performances, who knew the music world inside out, upped the stakes more than she'd ever imagined.

Trish, sensing the rising tension, added, "Hey, we've got this. We're prepared, we love our music, and we're going to give it everything we've got. That's all we can do, right?"

Her words, simple yet grounded in truth, helped anchor the group. They'd been practicing for months, pouring their heart and soul into their music. It was their passion, their escape, and now, perhaps, it could be their future.

"Right," Fang affirmed, a newfound resolve steeling her spine. "We play like it's our last show on Earth. We leave everything on that stage."

The bell rang again, a harsh reminder of the immediate reality. The legendary-looking figure had disappeared into the main building, possibly to meet with school officials. The trio had no choice but to head to class, but the day's ordinary lessons couldn't dim the fire that had been ignited.

Throughout the day, the halls were abuzz with whispers and speculation about the mysterious visitor. But in the hearts of Fang, Trish, and Reed, a silent promise resonated louder than any rumor — they were going to play the best show of their lives, no holding back. After all, their dreams might just be on the brink of becoming reality.

 

Fang sat alone at the lunch table, her food untouched as she was lost in thought. The dreams she'd had, the unsettling premonitions of failure, loomed over her like dark clouds. She knew she shouldn't let these fears get to her, but the arrival of the possible music producer had amplified the pressure exponentially.

The sound of approaching footsteps pulled her from her reverie, and she looked up to see Trish and Reed making their way over to her, trays in hand and smiles on their faces — though she could detect a hint of the same nervousness she felt mirrored in their expressions.

"Mind if we join you?" Reed asked, though it was more a courteous statement than a question.

"Please," Fang replied, gesturing to the empty seats around her.

No sooner had they sat down than the conversation inevitably turned to the topic that had been circulating all morning. "Can you believe she's here? At our school?" Trish exclaimed, barely able to contain her excitement.

Fang tried to participate in the conversation, but her fears crept back in, unbidden. She was about to voice her concerns when a new figure approached their table, one she recognized instantly.

Naser, with his usual calm demeanor, pulled out a chair and sat down beside Fang. His unexpected presence caused Trish and Reed to pause mid-conversation, turning their curious gazes toward him.

"And you are?" Trish inquired, a friendly smile on her face but confusion clear in her eyes.

"Oh, this is Naser, my sibling," Fang introduced, a touch of relief in her voice at the welcome distraction.

Naser nodded in greeting. "I've been helping with the stage setup for the show," he explained. "Fang's told me all about you two. It's nice to finally meet."

Trish's and Reed's expressions lit up with understanding, and they both greeted Naser warmly, happy to meet someone Fang considered family.

The conversation shifted naturally to the show's preparations, and Naser detailed his work on the stage setup. He described the lighting arrangements and the sound checks, explaining how he'd used his artistic talents to create a visual experience that would complement their music.

As they talked, Fang felt her anxiety ebb slightly. Having Naser there, someone from her family who was so directly involved in their performance, felt like a talisman. It was a reminder of the support they had, not just from the school and the audience, but from those who cared about them on a personal level.

However, the fear wasn't entirely gone. It lingered in the back of her mind, a dark whisper trying to sow doubt. She knew she had to voice it, or it would eat away at her until the show.

"You guys..." Fang hesitated, drawing the attention of her friends and sibling. "I've been having these dreams... nightmares, really. They're about the show, and in them, everything that could go wrong, does. They're just dreams, I know, but with the producer here, I can't help but feel like they're a sign or something."

There was a moment of silence as her words settled in. Then, without a word, Naser reached under the table to gently squeeze her hand, a silent show of support.

Trish leaned forward, her expression earnest. "Fang, they're just dreams. They don't control what actually happens. We do. We control our performance by how much we've practiced and how much heart we put into our show."

Reed nodded in agreement. "We're a team, Fang. We've got your back, and we know you've got ours. This is something we've all dreamed about, and it's normal to be nervous. But we believe in our music, and we believe in each other. That's what's real."

Their words, imbued with the strength of their bond, helped dissipate the shadows in Fang's mind. She drew in a deep breath and nodded, bolstered by their unwavering support.

"You're right," Fang affirmed, a small smile tugging at her lips. "We're in this together."

Together, they finished their lunch, the atmosphere now one of determined optimism. They were more than friends, more than schoolmates — they were a band, a family of their own making. And they were ready to face whatever the show brought, side by side.

 

As they left the cafeteria, the hallways buzzed with the typical between-class energy, but for Fang, everything felt more intense, more vital. This was the day before their first live performance, and that reality thrummed through her veins, a mix of electric excitement and a daunting pressure that made her heart race.

Naser, seeming to understand her internal turmoil, began talking about the stage setup again, perhaps trying to offer her a tangible anchor to the reality of the situation, a focus beyond her spiraling thoughts. "...and the acoustics in the auditorium are surprisingly good, so the sound will be—"

He stopped abruptly, a thoughtful look crossing his face. "Oh, I didn't mention! I met with the producer when she was checking out the stage area."

Fang's head whipped around so fast it was almost comical. "You what?!" she blurted out, her nerves jangling anew. "What did she say? How was she? Did she mention the show? Did she say anything about what she's expecting?" The questions tumbled out of her, one after another, barely giving Naser a chance to answer.

Trish and Reed were just as shocked, their eyes wide as they eagerly anticipated Naser's answers.

Holding up his hands in a calming gesture, Naser chuckled. "Okay, okay, one question at a time, Fang. Yes, I spoke to her. She's very professional, quite serious. She talked about how she's always on the lookout for fresh talent, something that stands out. She didn't mention any specific expectations, but she did say that she loves seeing artists who are true to themselves, who give their all on stage."

He paused, giving Fang a meaningful look. "She said that what matters most is authenticity and passion. That it's obvious when performers are only there for the fame or money, and that's not what she's interested in."

The group digested this information in silence as they continued walking. Fang felt a tumult of emotions. The producer's words, as relayed by Naser, were both reassuring and intimidating. Authenticity and passion - those, they had in spades. But the fear of judgment, especially from someone who held the keys to their dreams, was overwhelming.

Seeing Fang's conflict, Trish reached out to pat her shoulder reassuringly. "We just have to do what we always do, right? Play our hearts out."

Reed nodded, a fierce determination in his eyes. "Exactly. We're not in this for anything but the love of music. We'll go out there and give them the best damn show because it's who we are, not because some producer is watching."

Their words, fierce and sure, did wonders for Fang's spiraling nerves. She drew in a deep, steadying breath and nodded, the fire of their shared passion warming her from the inside out.

"You're right," Fang said, her voice steady. "We'll show them what we're made of."

With renewed determination, the group parted ways for their next classes, the final bell ringing out clear and sharp. But in Fang's ears, it sounded less like a reminder of school routine and more like a call to arms for the battle they were about to face together. And for the first time since her nightmares began, she felt ready.

 

In the middle of jotting down notes during her last class of the day, a sudden realization struck Fang like a bolt of lightning. They didn't have a band name! They couldn't possibly take the stage without a name to announce, without an identity that the crowd could cheer for and remember. How had they overlooked such a crucial detail?

Panic initially fluttered in her chest, but Fang shoved it aside. She flipped to a clean page in her notebook, her mind whirring into overdrive as she began to scrawl down every potential band name that popped into her head. 'Flight of the Raptors', 'Dino Chord', 'Prehistoric Beats', 'Fossilized Melodies'—one after another, she listed them, only to cross each one out, feeling they lacked the impact they needed.

As her pen moved frantically, the teacher's drone and the classroom's bustle faded away. All that mattered was the paper, the pen, and the perfect combination of words that would encapsulate who they were as a band.

Finally, her pen paused, hovering over the latest idea that her brain had thrown into the ring. "VVURM DRAMA." It was quirky, with a nod to their dinosaur heritage through 'VVURM,' a playful misspelling of "worm," hinting at ancient creatures of the earth, and 'DRAMA' signifying the intense emotion they poured into their music. It felt right. It felt like them.

The bell's ring startled Fang back into reality, and she nearly jumped out of her seat. Clutching her notebook, she bolted from the classroom the moment the teacher dismissed them, rushing to find Trish and Reed.

Spotting them at their lockers, Fang skidded to a stop, gasping for breath. "Guys, we forgot something huge," she blurted out without preamble.

Reed raised an eyebrow. "What, did we forget to write a song?"

"No, worse," Fang said dramatically, though her eyes were sparkling. "We don't have a band name!"

Trish's eyes widened. "Oh, my dino-stars, you're right! We can't go onstage and be like 'Hey, we're...uh...the band with no name.'"

"But I think I've got it," Fang interrupted before they could spiral into panic. Excitedly, she showed them the page with the crossed-out names, her finger pointing to 'VVURM DRAMA.'

They both stared at it for a moment, silent. Fang held her breath, suddenly unsure. Had she been right in the classroom, or was this another name to cross out?

Then Reed grinned, a wide, toothy thing. "VVURM DRAMA. I love it. It's got character."

Trish was nodding, her smile growing to match Reed's. "It's perfect. It's so us!"

Fang's heart soared with relief and joy, a giddy laugh escaping her. "VVURM DRAMA it is, then!"

With a band name decided and their spirits high, the trio parted ways for the evening, each feeling the electric crackle of anticipation for the night to come. They were no longer just a group of friends who loved music; they were VVURM DRAMA, and they were ready to set the stage ablaze.

 

The music room, filled with the echoes of past performances and the silent potential of instruments, became the epicenter of VVURM DRAMA's world as Fang, Trish, and Reed gathered around. The sun was setting, casting long shadows through the windows and bathing the room in a golden hue, a silent reminder that their moment under the spotlight was fast approaching.

Fang took charge, her nerves morphing into a form of assertive energy. "Okay, team, we need a solid setlist. We've got to capture the audience from the first chord to the last," she began, pacing slightly. "We need a strong opener, something that defines us, then we keep the energy high before ending with a bang that leaves them wanting more."

Trish nodded in agreement, pulling out a notepad. "We should start with 'Skyward Beat.' It's energetic and will grab their attention right away."

"I agree," Reed chimed in, "and for the middle of the set, let's mix it up with 'Rhythms of the Stone Age' and 'Echoes in Amber.' They show our range."

The trio spent the next hour debating the order of their songs, considering the tempo and emotional journey they wanted to take their audience on. They were meticulous, understanding that every choice they made would contribute to the narrative of their performance.

After finalizing the setlist, Fang steered the conversation towards their introduction. "We can't just start playing. We need a brief intro. Something that's punchy and memorable," she insisted.

"How about a play on our band name?" Reed suggested with a twinkle in his eye. "'Good evening, Volcano High! We're VVURM DRAMA, here to dig up the beats and unearth the melodies!'"

Both Fang and Trish laughed, the tension easing from their shoulders. "It's perfect, Reed. Cheesy, but perfect," Fang decided, grinning.

As the meeting drew to a close, they discussed their final song, the one that would resonate with the audience long after the curtains closed. "It has to be 'Flight into the Night,'" Fang said, a far-off look in her orange eyes. "It's not just about the music. It's about our dreams, our struggles... it's our anthem."

Reed and Trish nodded, understanding the weight of that choice. It was a song they'd all poured their hearts into, a piece of each of them lyrically interwoven with the melody.

With a newfound sense of unity and purpose, they wrapped up their meeting, each member taking on specific tasks ahead of the show. They double-checked their equipment, ensured their instruments were in top condition, and Fang made a mental note to pick up some blue hair dye — a final touch to symbolize their leap into the unknown.

As they stepped out of the music room, the night had fully settled in, stars sprinkling the dark sky. They were more than friends now; they were bandmates, each an integral thread in the tapestry of VVURM DRAMA.