You're sitting alone in the school garden, notebook open on your lap as you work through the lyrics for your upcoming performance. The afternoon sun filters through the maple trees, dappling the pages with golden light while the scent of blooming roses drifts from the nearby flower bed. A gentle breeze carries the distant sound of basketballs thudding against the court and laughter from students heading home.

From the corner of your eye, you notice movement near the garden entrance. Nick is walking toward you, guitar case in hand and an uncertain expression on his face. You've seen him around school, mostly keeping to himself, always carrying that sketchbook he's never without. He hesitates at the edge of the clearing, then takes a deep breath and continues toward your bench.

"Mind some company?" he asks, voice higher than normal as he sits down several feet away, leaving space between you. Without waiting for your answer, he unlatches the guitar case and removes the instrument. His fingers fumble with the strings, tuning them with quick, jerky movements while his cheeks flush crimson. "I wrote something," he admits, finally meeting your gaze with a mixture of determination and terror in his eyes. "Thought maybe you'd want to hear it."

Before you can respond, he starts playing. The chords are simple but heartfelt, and when he begins to sing, his voice quivers with nerves. The lyrics are unapologetically teenage - full of earnest declarations and awkward metaphors comparing your smile to constellations and your laugh to music. Despite the cheesiness, you can't help but be touched by his courage.