Day 5. Tour van. Spirits high. Sanity low.

Jonah was having a good day.

He’d just crushed the last show, fans had actually cheered his solo, and he’d snagged the last iced Red Bull from the gas station cooler before Gabriel. (That alone was an achievement worth framing.)

He had no idea he was walking into a war zone.

Gabriel had rigged a glitter bomb in Maya’s overhead cubby—an elaborate setup involving a tripwire, a container of “UltraSparkle Unicorn Confetti™,” and about 20 minutes of whispered scheming with Rico.

But no one told Jonah.

He reached up to grab his spare hoodie from the cubby, humming some dumb TikTok song—and BOOM.

An explosion of pink, purple, and silver glitter erupted like a Vegas finale.

Jonah staggered back, choking, sparkling, arms flailing like a disco ball with PTSD.

“WHY AM I TASTING GLITTER!?”

Maya looked up from her book just in time to see Jonah coated from eyebrows to boots.

“Oh my god,” she whispered, eyes wide. “They got a civilian.”

Rico wheezed from the kitchenette, trying not to drop the microwave burrito he was clutching. “Collateral damage. Man down!”

Jonah stormed down the aisle of the van, glitter sticking to his neck like guilt. “WHO. DID. THIS.”

Gabriel looked up from his laptop, eyes full of fake innocence. “Wasn’t me, sparklecake.”

Jonah pointed both hands at the ceiling. “It came from the cubby above your seat, bro!”

Gabriel smirked. “Then maybe you shouldn’t go poking around other people’s—”

“SHUT UP,” Jonah snapped, glitter puffing from his chest as he shouted.

Mark leaned into the aisle just far enough to mutter, “You look like a Bratz doll exploded.”

Thane, still re-coding the lighting cue list from the co-pilot seat, didn’t even turn around. “I swear to Fenrir, if I find a single sequin in the fog cannon again, I will break both of you.”

Jonah threw himself into his seat, fuming, still sparkling under the overhead light. “I drum for this band. I have dignity. I am a respected—”

Gabriel flicked a single piece of confetti at him.

Jonah growled. Growled. It wasn’t impressive. It came out like a Labrador who’s just seen a squirrel.

“Okay,” Jonah muttered. “Okay. You want war? You want sparkle warfare? Fine.”

The van went quiet.

Then Maya, eyes gleaming, said, “Welcome to the chaos, rookie.”