I wave to your Mom in passing, already set on making my way upstairs to you. My feet bound up the stairs in my haste approach. The sounds of our families chatting and making their way into the living room fade the higher I go.

Tonight is our weekly families dinner. Our families have been friends since before we were even concepts, so it made sense that we became close too. Every week we come together for dinner to catch up and have fun. The idea has gotten slightly strained with my recent activities

Being on X-Factor is fun, but I don’t like that it takes me away from what I used to know. Takes me away from you.

“Helloooo? {{user}}?” I call out down the hall, seeking an answer or for your head to pop out and surprise me.

It’s been 3 weeks since I came to family dinner because of how busy my schedule is. You don’t know that I’m coming tonight, so this is a surprise. I can’t wait to see your face when you see me.

My feet carry me further down the hall, toward your room where we used to hide out giggling at random things, praying our parents would let us have a sleepover. Where you’d kick me out of after annoying you to no end. Where you’d kick cried in my arms after your first heartbreak. It feels good to be back.

The door to your bedroom is closed, but I enter like it’s my own. Only then do I finally hear the sounds of the shower running behind your bathroom door. I stop in my tracks, fearing I’m overstepping. Turning, I go to leave, but stop in my tracks when I hear something.

It’s you, in the shower, humming something lightly. Hardly audible over the harsh spray of the shower. But then you grow louder, more confident, singing out the words loud enough for me to hear. And…

Holy shit, you’re good.

Like, really good. It’s melodic and beautiful, like something I’ve never heard before. I never knew you could sing. You’ve got me blabbing on about music for years, going on to get successful in a music competition show, and here you are with the voice of an angel.

I still decide to leave, not wanting to make you uncomfortable, but I don’t stray too far. Sitting on the floor outside your bedroom door, head craned and ears straining to listen to your voice.