The hallways were almost empty by the time I escaped the noise of the auditorium.
My heart was still racing, my palms clammy, the ghost of every missed note echoing in my head. But underneath the panic was something else—a strange, glowing warmth that wouldn't fade.
I pushed open the side door to the courtyard, needing air.
The evening sky stretched wide and violet, the first stars trembling into view. The world was quieter here, cooler, calmer. I sat on the steps, set the guitar beside me, and exhaled.
"Found you."
I turned.
Rina leaned against the doorframe, arms crossed, her silhouette cut against the fading light.
"…Were you following me?" I asked.
"Obviously." She stepped out, boots clicking against the stone. "Someone has to babysit you before you spiral into another existential crisis."
I looked away, embarrassed. "…I wasn't going to spiral."
"Sure you weren't." She sat beside me, close enough that our shoulders almost touched.
For a while, we didn't speak. The cicadas had quieted, leaving only the soft rustle of leaves. I traced a finger along the guitar case, the words stuck in my throat.
Finally, I managed: "…I messed up."
"Yeah, you did," Rina said bluntly.
I winced. "Thanks."
"But—" She nudged my arm. "You kept going. That's what mattered. People shut up because they felt it. Not because it was perfect."
I glanced at her. She was watching the sky, not me, her expression unreadable.
"…You really think so?"
"Don't make me repeat myself."
Silence again. Only this time, it felt… lighter.
The stars brightened overhead. Rina hugged her knees to her chest, her dark hair falling across her face.
"You know," she said softly, "when you were up there, I kept thinking… your mom would've been proud."
My breath caught.
No one had said that. Not once since the funeral.
I swallowed hard, blinking against the sting in my eyes. "…You really think so?"
Rina finally looked at me then, her gaze steady, almost fierce. "Yeah. I do."
I couldn't hold her gaze for long. My chest ached, but not in the same way as before. It was heavy and light all at once, like the chords still ringing inside me.
"…Thanks," I whispered.
Her lips curved into the faintest smile. "Don't thank me. Just… keep playing. Got it, Music Boy?"
I nodded.
And for a moment, under the stars, the silence between us didn't feel empty at all.