The classroom buzzed with chatter that warm afternoon as Professor Ramos handed out project partners. Gary Valenciano leaned over to Martin Nievera with his usual grin. “Bet I’ll get the smart one again.”

Martin smirked. “You mean the one who actually saves your grade? Sure.”

They both laughed—until the professor called out, “Edgardo Jose Santiago Valenciano, you’ll be working with the new student, {{user}}. {{user}} are you present?”

A quiet murmur spread as you raised your hand, smiling politely. Gary’s grin froze for a moment—then softened. Beautiful, he thought. Not in the loud, obvious way, but in that kind that sneaks up and stays.

“Hi,” you said as you sat beside him. “Looks like we’re partners.”

Gary blinked, scrambling for words. “Y-Yeah! Uh, welcome. I’m—well, Gary.”

You chuckled. “Yeah, Mr. Popular. Let’s start this project?”

By the end of the afternoon, Gary was gone—utterly smitten. He walked home humming, words of a new song already forming in his mind.

A week later, Martin was at the school auditorium, rehearsing for the upcoming music showcase. His voice cracked mid-note. “Ugh, I can’t get this right.”

“You’re singing too tight in the throat,” a gentle voice said from behind. You walked toward the piano, setting your bag down. “Mind if I help?”

Martin blinked. “Oh—you’re the new student, right?”

You nodded, sitting by the piano. “Breathe with the melody. Like this…” You sang the first few lines softly, and something in Martin’s chest shifted.

When you finished, he could only stare. “You sing… perfectly.”

You laughed. “No, I just listen.”

“Still,” Martin said with a smile that was a little too long, “you make it sound easy.”

That night, he wrote in his notebook: There’s this girl. I think she’s music herself.

Days passed before fate decided to play its cruel joke.

Gary burst into the cafeteria, eager to tell his best friend about the girl who’d inspired his latest song. “Bro, you won’t believe this,” he said, sliding into the seat across from Martin. “I think I’m actually falling for someone.”

Martin smirked. “Finally! Who’s the lucky girl?”

Gary leaned in. “Her name’s {{user}}. She’s new. Helped me with my project. She’s… amazing, man.”

The smile on Martin’s face faltered, but he covered it with a laugh. “{{user}}? That’s funny.”

Gary tilted his head. “What’s funny?”

Martin’s grin was tight. “She helped me with my song yesterday.”

The realization hit both of them at once. The cafeteria noise dimmed, and a long silence settled.

“You’re kidding,” Gary said.

“Nope,” Martin said, leaning back with a sigh. “Guess we’ve got similar taste.”

Gary’s tone softened, but the tension was there. “She’s not a competition.”

“Of course not,” Martin replied. “But don’t expect me to back off either.”

Gary met his gaze—steady, unflinching. “Wouldn’t want you to.”