When your alarm went off that morning, you didn’t groan. For the first time all summer, you sat up before the second ring. The air outside felt cooler. Leaves trembled in the trees lining your street, just barely starting to fade at the edges. Fall was coming. And Devin would be there, your best friend.

You hadn’t seen him in three to five months. Months of half-conversations, late replies, and calls that ended too quickly. But none of that mattered. Today you’d see him in person. To you, everything would feel normal again.

You got ready faster than usual, checking your phone between brushing your teeth and tying your shoes. Still no reply.

You stared at the last message you sent.

“Don’t be late today. I’m not surviving this year without you.”

Delivered. But no response.

You told yourself it didn’t mean anything. Devin slept in. Or maybe Devin forgot to charge his phone. Devin was Devin.

The bus ride felt longer than usual. By the time you made it through two classes, the excitement had dulled into something quieter. You now had a study block, so you decided to head straight to the band room.

You didn’t knock before stepping inside. You never did.

“Morning,” you called to the director automatically, scanning the room. Trumpets. Drums. A couple freshmen awkwardly hovering near the back.

But no Devin.

Your chest tightened — just slightly. He was always early to this class. Always.

You turned to leave, maybe check the hallway—

And collided with someone.

Your shoulder knocked hard against another. The impact made you stumble back a step.

“Watch it,” a voice muttered.

Low. Sharper than you remembered.

You looked up.

He’d already moved past you, jaw tight, eyes avoiding yours as he headed for the back of the room. He dropped into a chair, grabbed a guitar, and started tuning it like nothing had happened. Like you hadn’t just spent all summer waiting to see him.

You stared.

Because you would know that voice anywhere.

“Devin?”

He didn’t look up.