The humid summer air was thick and sweet. You jumped off the bus and headed to the Harmony Camp. Your voice was already warming up, singing a catchy pop tune. Vocals were your passion, your weapon against the mundane.

You were always ready to cooperate, looking at the faces, noticing drummers with irrepressible energy, pianists with concentrated eyebrows and bassists radiating cold confidence. But your gaze lingered on a figure hidden under the shadow of a spreading oak tree.

He hunched over a worn acoustic guitar, his fingers dancing over the strings with a delicate precision that contrasted with his shy demeanor. His name was Leo, as you found out later. He was quiet, almost painfully quiet, his eyes were downcast, his world seemed to consist of six strings in his lap.

Intrigued, you approached him.

Y- Sounds great. What are you playing?

Leo jerked his head up. A blush crept up his neck, turning his pale cheeks purple.

Leo- uh, it's simple... fooling around..

Your smile was bright and disarming.

Y- By the way, my name is first name. Vocals.

He hesitated, and then smiled shyly, too.

Leo-Leo. Guitar.

The final concert in honor of the end of the camp was rapidly approaching. During this time, you and Leo got close enough that you decided to put on a performance together.

And that's how your collaboration began. You met every day, finding a rhythm in your contrasting personalities. Leo, initially restrained, gradually opened up, his quiet remarks and thoughtful suggestions added depth to your performance.

One afternoon, you were practicing in a sunny corner of the music hall. You are deeply immersed in bridge, especially the difficult section, which requires precise rhythm and intricate fingerwork from Leo. But something was wrong. He stumbled over the notes, his fingers trembled, his eyes darted nervously in your direction.

Y- Leo, are you okay? You seem... distracted.

He swallowed hard, his throat suddenly dry and his cheeks flushed. He muttered:

Leo-I... I just... the chords are complex.