Ethan Vale was slipping.
And everyone noticed.
Not in the obvious way.
He still showed up to rehearsals. Still sang perfectly. Still hit every note like his voice was carved out of something divine. To the world, he was still the golden boy—cold, untouchable, distant.
But to the people who knew him?
Something had changed.
"Okay… what's going on with you?"
Ethan didn't look up. He kept adjusting the strings on his guitar, pretending not to hear.
"I'm talking to you," his bandmate pressed, stepping closer.
Ethan sighed, clearly irritated. "Then stop."
"That's exactly what I mean," the guy said. "You've been less… angry."
Ethan paused.
Just for a second.
Then he scoffed. "You're imagining things."
"No, I'm not."
Silence.
"You're not snapping at everyone like before," he continued. "You actually stayed for the full rehearsal yesterday. And today, you didn't walk out once."
Ethan's jaw tightened.
"So?"
"So… what changed?"
Ethan finally looked up, his gaze sharp. "Nothing."
But it wasn't true.
And deep down…
He knew it.
---
That evening, he didn't even hesitate.
No internal argument. No pretending. No "I just want quiet."
He just went.
Straight to the stairwell.
Like it had become part of him.
Like she had.
When he pushed the door open, Lia was already there.
Of course she was.
Sitting in her usual spot, her notebook resting on her knees.
She looked up when she heard him, and that soft smile appeared again.
"You're early," she said.
"So are you."
"I'm always early."
Ethan huffed lightly, walking down the steps and sitting beside her. "Yeah… I noticed."
There was something different tonight.
The air felt…lighter.
But also heavier.
Like something was building between them, slowly, quietly, without permission.
---
"Can I tell you something?" Lia said after a moment.
Ethan leaned back slightly. "Depends."
She smiled a little. "I sang today."
He turned his head toward her. "Outside of here?"
She nodded. "In my room. Loud enough for someone to hear."
Ethan raised an eyebrow. "That's new."
"It is," she admitted. "I almost stopped halfway."
"Why didn't you?"
She hesitated.
Then said, softly—
"Because I remembered what you said."
Ethan blinked.
"What did I say?"
"That my voice… was worth hearing."
The words hit him unexpectedly.
He looked away, suddenly feeling something unfamiliar creeping into his chest.
"…I meant it," he muttered.
"I know," she said gently.
And somehow…
That made it worse.
Because she believed him.
---
"Do you ever think about… going back?" she asked suddenly.
Ethan frowned. "Going back where?"
"To who you were before," she said carefully. "Before everything."
His expression hardened instantly.
"No."
The answer was sharp. Immediate. Final.
Lia nodded slowly. "Okay."
But she didn't look convinced.
"You think I should?" he asked, his tone quieter now, almost challenging.
"I think…" she paused, choosing her words carefully, "you don't have to stay broken just because someone hurt you."
Ethan stared at her.
The words settled between them, heavy but soft.
"I'm not broken," he said.
"You are," she replied gently. "But that's not a bad thing."
His chest tightened.
No one had ever said it like that before.
Not as an insult.
Not as pity.
Just…truth.
---
Before he could respond, the stairwell door suddenly creaked open.
Both of them froze.
Footsteps echoed from above.
Voices.
"—I swear I saw him come this way."
Ethan's body went still instantly.
Lia's eyes widened slightly.
Without thinking, he grabbed her wrist gently, pulling her closer—out of direct view from the staircase opening.
His hand was warm. Firm.
Her breath hitched.
His did too.
They were close now.
Closer than they had ever been.
Too close.
The footsteps grew louder.
Ethan's grip tightened slightly—not painful, just…protective. Instinctive.
"Check down there," a voice said.
Lia's heart pounded in her chest. She could feel Ethan's too—fast, uneven, too close to ignore.
The moment stretched.
Tense.
Fragile.
Then—
"Nah, he's not here. Let's go back."
The footsteps faded.
The door shut.
Silence returned.
But it wasn't the same silence.
Not anymore.
---
Ethan didn't let go immediately.
Neither did she pull away.
For a second…
They just stayed like that.
Close.
Too close.
Then he seemed to realize, quickly releasing her wrist like it burned him.
"Sorry," he muttered, looking away.
"It's okay," she said softly.
But her voice wasn't as steady as before.
Neither of them moved back right away.
And that was the problem.
Because the space between them—
It was gone.
And suddenly, everything felt louder.
His breathing.
Her heartbeat.
The way their shoulders almost touched.
The way his eyes flickered toward her…
Then away.
---
"They're probably looking for you," she said quietly.
"Yeah."
"But you're here."
He glanced at her.
"…yeah."
Another pause.
Then she smiled a little. "That means something changed."
Ethan didn't respond immediately.
Because she was right.
Everything had changed.
And he didn't know when it happened.
Or how.
Or why.
But he knew one thing—
It had something to do with her.
---
Later that night, as he walked away from the stairwell, the voices of his bandmates echoed in his head.
"You've changed."
He used to hate that idea.
Used to fight it.
Deny it.
But now…
He wasn't so sure.
Because for the first time in months…
The anger didn't feel as loud.
The hate didn't feel as strong.
And the emptiness?
It wasn't completely gone.
But it wasn't consuming him anymore.
And somehow…
That scared him more than anything.
Because if he was changing—
If she was the reason—
Then it meant one thing.
He was letting someone in again.
And that?
That was the most dangerous thing of all. 💔