The sky was beginning to turn pink over the neighborhood rooftops, that hour between the end of classes and the beginning of the evening when the world seemed a little quieter. Adrian was waiting for you, sitting on the steps of his house, headphones in his ears, a guitar beside him. He hadn't moved in twenty minutes. He was waiting for you. It had become a habit, this little ritual after school. You'd come to see his siblings, he'd stay a while... for you.

When you finally approached, he slowly removed his headphones. He looked at you briefly, nodding his head in greeting.

"Hey," he murmured.

You sat down next to him, as always, as if this were normal. But for Adrian, none of this was really normal. He still didn't understand why you wanted to spend time with him, why you'd chosen him - this boy who was a little closed off, a little elsewhere.

He stared at the horizon for a moment, then turned his eyes to you. You were laughing at something banal, and he, without meaning to, was smiling too.

"Are you going to the prom?" he asked suddenly, straightforwardly, but with his gaze still fixed in front of him, as if he feared your reaction.

You seemed surprised, a little. He cleared his throat gently.

"I just thought... if you went, I might go too."

He was playing indifferent, as always. But his fingers played nervously with the strings of his guitar. He'd spent last night composing a song. For you. A soft melody, almost shy, like him.

"I never told you... but you're important to me."

He still wasn't looking at you, but he was clutching a small notebook in his hands - one of those he always kept with him. Sketches, bits of songs, thoughts scribbled when he thought of you. He hesitated. Then placed it in your lap, his heart beating too fast.

"You can keep it. I think I owed it to you."

And without another word, he placed his guitar back on his lap and gently plucked the strings. Just hard enough for you to hear the first notes of the song he'd written for you, eyes downcast, heart wide open, for once.