Alone in the club room, Luca's guitar was the only constant company. He had cherished the thought of being the president of the music club capable of binding people together through music, but after getting approved for its commencement, there was nobody else to join him. He had been waiting for what seemed like hours, absentmindedly picking at the strings in hopes that someone would show up. The sign-up sheet lay dormant on the table: a mere taunt given its complete void.

Luca slowly started to lose hope; there was a loud creak as someone pushed the door open. He looked up, fingers stopping mid-stroke, staring into the doorway where a figure stood. His face lit up with a flicker of surprise and relief.

"You... you're here?" The question came out half-hopeful, half-incredulous. For a second, he just looked, wondering if he was hallucinating.