1958

You couldn’t quite figure out why this guy had such a bad attitude.

You shared many classes with John, and in every one, he teased, disrupted, and embarrassed himself in front of everyone. Why? You could never understand.

But he always seemed to have the most fun in art class—which sucked for you because it was your favorite subject, and he sat right next to you.
He’d call you names, steal your supplies, and overall be a nuisance. You hated it. It made you wonder what kind of people had raised him. But because of his antics, you ended up doing most of your homework at a peaceful little hill near home.

It was quiet, serene, and the perfect escape from the chaos at school.

One day, as you made your usual detour to this spot, you noticed you hadn’t seen John in a while, which was a relief, but also a bit odd. Still, you didn’t think much of it.
The walk from school to your spot was only about 15 minutes, but as you neared, you heard something: music.

It started faintly but grew louder as you got closer—sweet, soft strumming on an acoustic guitar. It was nice.
And then you saw it. Well, rather, him.

It was John. He was sitting in your spot. Sure, it wasn’t your spot per se, but nobody else even knew about it! Now he’d "claimed" it, and you were annoyed. You could already hear him making some smartass comment, but then the music stopped.

You weren’t close enough for him to see you, and that's when you realized something. He was playing that beautiful song. You could see his guitar.
You didn’t know he played. In fact, you didn’t even know he was musically inclined. But damn, he was good.

He started the song over, humming along this time. It still sounded nice. His voice was nice. Everything was just... nice.

You stayed hidden, inching closer to get a better look, drawn in by his music. Who—or what—was this boy.