The band desperately needed a bassist.

A real bassist. Not Emily and her dumb cello, no matter how much she insisted it could “basically do the same thing.” It couldn’t. And it made the band look ridiculous, like they were one bad joke away from being laughed out of every rehearsal room in the city.

The bigger problem was him.

Everyone at school hated him.

So asking around for someone who played bass wasn’t just difficult—it was humiliating. The first day alone was a blur of slammed lockers and sharp words.

“Fuck off.” “Asshole.” “Get lost.”

No one played bass. No one knew anyone who played bass. And if they did, they sure as hell weren’t telling him. By the end of the day his throat hurt from asking and his jaw ached from clenching it.

It only got worse as the week dragged on.

He checked every music room he could find, poked his head into practice spaces during lunch, lingered outside classrooms after school. He found drummers who couldn’t keep time, guitarists who thought distortion was a personality trait, pianists who looked at him like he’d insulted their ancestors—but never a bassist.

By the seventh day, frustration had settled deep in his bones.

Then, finally, a senior cracked.

It wasn’t enthusiasm—more like pity. They rolled their eyes, sighed, and muttered something about “that one kid” before pointing him in a vague direction. Said you were probably hiding out in some obscure corner of the music room, like you always did.

He didn’t even say thanks.

He just ran.

Down the hallway, backpack bouncing against his spine, sneakers squeaking against the floor. His hair streamed out behind him, dramatic enough that if anyone had been watching, they would’ve sworn he looked like a Disney princess fleeing a curse.

He nearly slammed into the doorway of the music room, catching himself at the last second with a hand against the frame.

Inside, it was quiet.The kind of quiet that hummed in your ears.

He bent over, hands on his knees, breathing hard like a dog that’d been running too long. He coughed once, then straightened, eyes scanning the room until they finally landed on you, tucked away exactly where the senior said you’d be.

“Hey—”

He started, then stopped to suck in another breath.

“Are you—Are you {{user}}?”