"She sang as if she were the only one in the room. He listened as if she were the only one that mattered." ~Unknown
The bonfire crackled, sending sparks spiralling into the night sky. The group had settled into a loose circle, blankets draped over shoulders, drinks in hand. The conversation drifted easily, with funny memories from high school, embarrassing college stories, the kind of shared laughter that came naturally when old friends gathered.
Selina sat among her friends. Michael sat with Asper and Rory listening to something with a smile on his face.
Sandy leaned in close, her voice low so as not to disturb the others. "Hey, are you close with Michael? How come I never noticed?"
Selina blinked, caught off guard. She hadn't thought about how her friendship with Michael might look to others.
"We became friends after the school trip," Selina said after a moment. "I got to know him then. He's a good person. So I've kept in contact."
Sandy's eyebrows rose. "Really? That's surprising. I mean, you two are worlds apart."
"How so?"
"Don't you see?" Sandy gestured subtly toward Michael. "He's kind of… different. Like an odd man out. He never stood out much except for his face. And he was good at sports. But as a person, no one really knows him. I bet even Asper and Rory don't know how he truly is. He has this mysterious air around him that no one can see through."
She paused, considering her next words. "So seeing you talking to him is weird. I don't see how you two could be friends."
Selina looked across the fire again. Michael was laughing, something genuine in his eyes. She had seen that laugh before in the quiet moments when he forgot to guard himself.
"I don't think that matters," she said finally. "He's just a really good person to have around. I realised I never get bored when I'm with him. And…" She hesitated, then added softly, "He's really nice."
Sandy studied her for a long moment. "Wow. Such high praise from you? He must be quite something then."
Before Selina could respond, their other friends leaned in. "Hey, what are you two whispering about? Tell us too."
The moment passed. Selina laughed it off.
A while later, Michael brought his guitar. He settled back into his spot, unzipped the case, and pulled out the instrument.
The guitar passed around the circle. Several people tried their hand at it. A few managed a simple tune they had learned in music class, but nothing more. Selina had learned piano as a child, but she had never picked up a guitar. She watched Michael's hands as he took the instrument back, the way his fingers found the frets without looking.
He played the opening notes of "Coming Home," and the group fell silent. The melody was soft, familiar, the kind of song that settled into your chest and stayed there.
When the last note faded, someone called out for something upbeat.
Michael smiled and launched into "You Are My Home" from Alvin and the Chipmunks. The group erupted into song, voices rising together, laughter breaking through the chorus.
They followed it with "Dancing in the Dark." Half the group rose to their feet, swaying slowly, arms wrapped around themselves or each other. Selina stayed seated, her eyes on Michael, who was playing the instrument.
When the upbeat songs ended, the energy shifted, and someone suggested a soft song, something beautiful. Names were thrown out: "A Thousand Years," "Perfect,"
"Those are couple songs," someone pointed out.
The group laughed, but the suggestion lingered.
"Selina," one of her friends called out. "Since you're going to sing, you choose."
Selina hesitated. Her eyes found Michael's across the fire. He was waiting.
Her heart skipped. Something in his gaze held her there, suspended.
"I want to sing 'Photograph' by Ed Sheeran."
There was a moment of quiet surprise. It wasn't a song anyone expected. It was a song about yearning, about memories, about holding on to moments that fade.
But no one objected. The group settled back, and Michael's fingers found the opening chords.
Selina closed her eyes for a moment, letting the melody settle into her. Then she began to sing.
"Loving can hurt, loving can hurt sometimes. But it's the only thing that I know…"
Her voice was soft at first, tentative. But as the song built, she let herself fall into it. She thought of her mother, the distance, the photograph on her phone. She thought of all the moments she had let slip away.
"When it gets hard, you know it can get hard sometimes. It is the only thing that makes us feel alive…"
The fire flickered. The group was silent. Michael's playing was steady, his eyes fixed on her. He knew why she had chosen this song. He knew who it was for.
When the chorus came, the others joined in, their voices soft, blending together in perfect harmony.
"We keep this love in a photograph. We made these memories for ourselves. Where our eyes are never closing, hearts are never broken, and time's forever frozen still…"
Selina sang the next verse alone, her voice carrying the ache of the words.
"So you can keep me inside the pocket of your ripped jeans, holding me closer 'til our eyes meet. You won't ever be alone. Wait for me to come home."
When the last note faded, no one spoke for a long moment.
Then someone let out a soft breath. "That was beautiful."
Selina opened her eyes. Michael was looking at her with something she couldn't name, but that made her chest ache in a way that had nothing to do with sadness.
She held his gaze for a moment longer, then looked away.
Someone suggested a group photo. The idea caught on quickly. They set up a camera on a small tripod, adjusting the timer, arranging themselves in a loose semicircle around the fire.
Michael stayed seated, his guitar still in his hands. Others gathered around him, some crouching, some standing, some holding drinks or snacks, their faces flushed with the warmth of the fire.
Selina stood with the girls, her arms loosely crossed, her smile easy.
The timer began its countdown.
She felt a gaze on her and turned her head slightly. Michael was looking at her, not at the camera, not at the group, but at her. His expression was soft, unguarded, something wistful in his grey eyes that she had never seen before.
Her breath caught.
Click.
The shutter closed. The moment was captured.