The school hallways were loud until they weren't.
By the time the last bell rang, I was already halfway down the stairs, my hands clutching my bag as if it might float away without me. Laughter echoed behind me, lockers slammed shut, and voices overlapped in a way that always made my chest feel tight.
That was why I liked the music room.
Correction—the old music room. The one no one used anymore.
The door creaked softly when I pushed it open, and the familiar smell of dust and wood wrapped around me like a quiet promise. Sunlight slipped through the tall windows, landing gently on the piano in the corner. Its keys were chipped, and one of the pedals was loose, but it was mine.
I sat down, letting my fingers hover above the keys.
Music was the only place where I didn't feel invisible.
The first note rang out, then another. Slowly, the noise of the world faded away. I closed my eyes, letting the melody guide me, my shoulders relaxing for the first time all day.
That was when I felt it.
Someone was there.
My fingers froze.
I opened my eyes and turned toward the door. A boy stood just inside the room, his hand still on the handle, as if he hadn't meant to interrupt. He wasn't smiling. He wasn't judging either.
He was just… listening.
"I—" I stopped, unsure of what to say.
"Sorry," he said quickly. "I didn't know anyone was here."
He should've left. Anyone else would've. But instead, he stayed, glancing at the piano like it was something fragile.
"You play beautifully," he added, quietly.
My heart skipped, half from fear, half from something I didn't recognize yet.
No one had ever heard me play before.
And for some reason, I didn't want him to leave.