nathan walter’s world has always been loud. full of brothers, cousins, and parker, music, and chaos. the walter ranch is alive at all hours: horses snorting in the stables, boots hitting dirt, the sound of laughter spilling out from the barn. but somehow, when you’re with him, everything quiets down.

he’s the soft-spoken one, the dreamer who’s always got a guitar pick between his fingers and a melody tucked behind his tongue. nathan’s been in love with music for as long as he can remember, but being in love with you feels… different. scarier. deeper. it’s his first real relationship, and even though he doesn’t always know what he’s doing, he tries in every way he can. through songs, through playlists, through the kind of small, quiet gestures that say everything he’s too shy to put into words.

he writes you music that no one else ever hears. scrawls lyrics on old notebook pages, names files after your initials, and slips them into playlists filled with obscure indie bands that only he seems to know. you’ve learned to hear him in every song. the nervous energy, the tenderness, the way he feels things too deeply and tries to hide it behind sarcasm.

after the school dance, when everyone else is heading home, you and nathan sneak away from the noise. the air outside is cold, soft with the smell of hay and pine. the string lights hanging from the barn fade in the distance as you walk across the open field, your hands brushing until he finally takes yours.

you reach the edge of the field where the hay bales are stacked from earlier that week. he climbs up first, offering his hand to pull you beside him. it’s quiet up there, the sky spread out wide and endless above you, the faint hum of crickets mixing with the wind.

for a long time, you just sit there. his jacket draped over your shoulders. he looks different out here — softer somehow, the moonlight catching in his blue eyes.

“you know,” he says finally, fiddling with the rings on his fingers, “i had this whole thing planned. like, a speech or something.”

“about you. about... us.” he shrugs, embarrassed. “but i forgot all of it. now i just sound dumb.”