Liam was no longer the invisible boy. That part of his story had ended the moment he opened his mouth and let the music spill out. And yet, as much as things changed, some feelings stayed exactly the same—unspoken, tucked away like unfinished lyrics in the back of his notebook.
One of those feelings had a name.
Emma.
She was more than the girl who helped him sing—she was the first person who really saw him. He didn't know when it started exactly, the way his stomach would flutter when she smiled, or how her laugh could light up parts of him he didn't know were dark. But every time she said his name, it felt like a melody written just for him.
And that scared him more than singing ever did.
They continued their sessions, even though he didn't need them anymore. He told himself it was practice. Emma didn't question it, and he was grateful for that. Maybe she felt something too.
Or maybe... she didn't.
One Friday afternoon, Liam walked into the music room expecting the usual—the dusty piano, the faint scent of sheet music, Emma waiting with her usual grin. But today, someone else was there too.
A guy.
Tall. Effortlessly confident. Wearing a leather jacket like he was born with it. He had a guitar slung over his shoulder and a smile that could start fires.
"Hey, Liam," Emma said, standing beside the stranger. "This is Noah. He just transferred here. He plays guitar and sings too."
Noah extended a hand. "Nice to meet you, man. Emma's told me you've got a serious voice."
Liam shook it, his smile polite but thin. "Cool. Welcome."
Noah smirked. "She also said you used to be terrified of singing. That true?"
Liam's jaw tightened. "Used to be."
Emma nudged Noah. "Don't be rude. Liam's amazing. You'll hear him."
Noah raised his hands. "Hey, I meant it as a compliment."
Liam nodded, but his chest was a slow burn. Something about the way Noah looked at Emma made him uncomfortable. Too familiar. Too casual. And Emma didn't seem to mind.
Later that day, they all practiced together. Noah played while Liam and Emma harmonized. The sound was beautiful—painfully so. Their voices blended like watercolor. But every time Emma laughed at one of Noah's jokes or leaned closer to check a chord on his guitar, Liam's heart sank just a little more.
That evening, as they were packing up, Liam lingered. He wanted to say something—anything. But before he could, Noah beat him to it.
"Hey, Emma," Noah said, slinging his guitar case over his shoulder. "Wanna grab a coffee or something? Just us?"
Emma blinked. "Oh. Um... sure."
Liam felt like someone had taken a sledgehammer to his ribs. He smiled anyway.
"Cool," Noah said. "You coming, Liam?"
"Nah," Liam replied quickly. "I've got... homework."
They left. Liam watched them walk down the hall, their laughter echoing like unwanted harmonies behind him.
That night, Liam couldn't sleep. He sat on his bed with his guitar, strumming the same four chords over and over, trying to drown the sound of Noah's voice in his head.
He's just a guy. A phase. She's your friend.
But then, why did it feel like he was losing something he never truly had?
Days passed, and Noah became a regular in their sessions. And while Emma still smiled at Liam the same way, he felt the shift. She was distracted. Distant, sometimes. It was subtle, but he felt it.
One afternoon, Liam showed up early. The door to the music room was slightly open. Inside, he heard Emma laughing.
"I can't believe you actually did that," she said.
Noah's voice followed. "Anything to impress you."
There was a pause. A silence heavy with meaning.
Then, softly—"It's working."
Liam turned and walked away.
That evening, he didn't show up for rehearsal.
He didn't show up the next day either.
Emma texted him. "Hey. You okay? Missed you today."
He didn't respond.
Instead, he opened his journal. And for the first time, Liam wrote lyrics not just to express—but to confess. About fear. About jealousy. About love that grows in silence. He poured it all into a song he would never dare to sing in front of her.
Or so he thought.
The school announced an upcoming showcase—an open mic night for musicians. Mr. Reynolds encouraged Liam to perform. Liam refused.
But the night of the event, he showed up anyway. Guitar in hand. Heart in knots.
Emma was there with Noah, both clapping and cheering for other performers. She spotted Liam across the room and waved, surprised—and maybe, just maybe, relieved.
When it was his turn, Liam walked up on stage, breath shallow.
He looked at the crowd. Then at her.
"This one's... new," he said into the mic. "It's not about anyone in particular. Just... someone I used to sing with."
Emma's smile faltered.
Then Liam began.
The lyrics were raw. Beautiful. Honest. His voice cracked once, but it didn't matter. He sang like he had nothing left to lose. And when he reached the final note, the room erupted in applause.
But Liam didn't look at the crowd. He looked at Emma.
She stared at him, eyes wide, lips parted. And in that moment, Liam saw something shift. Something real.
Noah clapped too—but slower. Like he knew he had just lost the spotlight.
Later, as the crowd thinned out, Emma walked up to Liam, her voice soft.
"That song..." she began. "Was it really not about anyone in particular?"
Liam met her gaze. "You tell me."
She didn't say anything for a moment. Then she smiled—different from before. Warmer. Braver.
"Sing it for me again," she said.
And he did.