The weeks bled into months, and Selene's high school life settled into a rhythm—a quiet,
solitary rhythm she had grown accustomed to. Crestwood High was still a foreign world to her,
filled with voices and laughter she did not belong to. She drifted through the crowded hallways
like a ghost, unseen and untouched, her presence barely acknowledged by those around her.
She had learned how to exist without truly being there.
Her headphones were her armor, a constant shield against the overwhelming chaos of teenage
life. The heavy bass and soft melodies muffled the world, allowing her to walk through it without
feeling its weight pressing down on her. Her hoodie, always pulled over her head, added
another layer of protection—a silent message to everyone: Don't notice me. Don't talk to me.
Don't try.
Most people didn't.
And yet, there was one place where the noise faded. One place where the weight of loneliness
felt just a little lighter.
The music room.
It was hidden at the far end of the school, away from the main corridors and the suffocating
crowds. Most students only entered it during class hours or when a performance was coming
up. But after school, it was hers. The old, slightly out-of-tune piano had become her constant
companion, its chipped ivory keys familiar beneath her fingertips. She would sit there for hours,
letting the music say the things she couldn't put into words.
No one else understood.
No one except Lila.
Lila was often there too, though she never disrupted the silence. She had a way of existing
quietly, as if she belonged to the same world as Selene—one made up of unspoken things. She
would sit cross-legged on the floor, her sketchpad balanced on her knees, her pencil moving in
swift, confident strokes. Sometimes she would glance up, watching Selene with an expression
that was unreadable, yet somehow gentle.
She never tried to fill the space with meaningless chatter, never pried into things Selene wasn't
ready to share.
And for that, Selene was grateful.
Instead, they existed in a kind of quiet harmony—two solitary souls who found solace in each
other's company. ---
One afternoon, as the golden light of autumn streamed through the dusty windows, Lila broke
the silence.
"You ever think about playing for people?" she asked, her voice casual, but her eyes sharp with
curiosity.
Selene's fingers hesitated on the keys, the last note hanging in the air like a question.
She turned her head slightly, glancing at Lila, brow furrowed. "Why would I do that?"
Lila shrugged, a small smile playing at the corner of her lips. "Because you're amazing.
Because people should hear you."
Selene shook her head, gaze dropping back to the piano. "I don't play for people," she said
quietly. "I play for me."
Lila didn't argue, didn't try to convince her otherwise. She simply watched, thoughtful, as if
tucking away Selene's answer for later.
And then, as if nothing had happened, she returned to her sketching, and Selene resumed
playing. ---
The days passed, turning into a blur of routine. Selene attended her classes, her presence
unnoticed by her peers. She ate lunch alone, tucked away in a quiet corner of the cafeteria
where she wouldn't be disturbed. And, as always, after school, she slipped into the music room,
where the piano and Lila waited.
But slowly, almost imperceptibly, something began to change.
It started with small things.
A shared smile.
A quiet laugh.
A fleeting touch when Lila handed her a pencil or brushed past her on the way out.
Lila had a way of drawing Selene out of her shell without forcing her, without making her feel
exposed. She didn't push, didn't demand answers, didn't try to fix her. She simply accepted her.
And Selene wasn't sure what to do with that.
One day, as they sat in the music room—Selene at the piano, Lila curled up on the floor—Lila
set down her sketchpad and turned to her.
"You ever think about joining the music club?" she asked, her tone casual, but her eyes bright
with something more.
Selene's fingers paused on the keys.
"Why would I do that?" she asked, wary.
Lila grinned. "Because it's fun. Because you'd get to play with other people. Because it might be
good for you."
Selene hesitated. The thought of playing with others, of exposing herself in that way, sent a cold
spike of anxiety through her. But there was also something else there—something small and
fragile, but present.
Curiosity.
"I don't know," she said finally, her voice barely above a whisper.
Lila's smile softened. She reached out, her hand resting on Selene's for the briefest moment.
"You don't have to decide right now," she said. "But think about it, okay?"
Selene nodded, her heart pounding. ---
The weeks that followed were a slow, delicate progression of small steps.
Selene started lingering in the cafeteria after lunch. Not always, not every day, but enough that it
was noticeable. Lila introduced her to a few of her friends—an eclectic group of artists,
musicians, and dreamers.
There was Noah, who played guitar with an old soul's patience, always tapping rhythms
absentmindedly against the table. Mira, a poet with wild curls and ink-stained hands who spoke
in metaphors and half-finished thoughts. Theo, whose violin spoke louder than his words, but
whose laughter was warm and easy.
And Ava.
Ava was a pianist too, but unlike Selene, she thrived in the spotlight. She played boldly,
fearlessly, without hesitation. She was everything Selene wasn't.
Selene didn't know how to exist among them. She didn't speak much, but she listened. And
maybe that was enough.
One afternoon, as they sat in the music room, Lila turned to Selene with a mischievous grin.
"I signed you up for the winter concert."
Selene's heart stopped.
She froze, hands stiff on the keys. "What?"
Lila shrugged, all nonchalance, but there was excitement in her eyes. "You don't have to do it if
you don't want to. But I think you'd be amazing."
Selene stared at her, panic coiling in her chest. The idea of standing in front of an audience, of
exposing herself like that, was terrifying.
But then—beneath the fear—was something else.
A flicker of intrigue. A question she had never dared ask herself.
Could she?
"I'll think about it," she said, her voice barely steady.
Lila's smile softened, and she reached out again, her fingertips just barely brushing Selene's.
"That's all I ask."
---
The days continued on, and Selene found herself changing.
Not completely.
She still carried the weight of her past, the scars of her loneliness. She still hesitated before
speaking, still withdrew when things felt too overwhelming.
But she was trying.
And for the first time in a long time, she allowed herself to hope.
To wonder.
To dream of a future where she didn't have to face the world alone.
But for now, she played.
She let the music carry her through the days.
And into the unknown.