The morning sunlight filtered through the café windows, casting a warm glow over the mess of crumpled napkins scattered across Alex's usual table. The fourth coffee of the day sat cooling in front of them, long forgotten as they scribbled another series of notes onto yet another napkin. The melody had been stuck in their head for days, playing on an endless loop behind their eyelids every time they blinked.
It was good. Maybe even great.
Not that anyone would ever hear it.
Alex sighed, crumpling the napkin in their fist before tossing it onto the growing pile of rejects. Their fingers tapped restlessly against the table, keeping time with the rhythm in their head. Around them, the café buzzed with life. Students hunched over textbooks, friends laughing over shared pastries, the occasional clatter of dishes from behind the counter. But in their little corner, the world felt muffled, like they were watching everything through a foggy window.
"Another one for the archives?"
Alex jumped, nearly knocking over their coffee as Maya slid into the seat across from them, her bright red beanie clashing horribly with the café's muted color scheme. She reached for the nearest napkin, unfolding it with the reverence of an archaeologist examining some ancient artifact.
"Don't—" Alex started, but it was too late.
Maya squinted at the notes, her lips moving silently as she tried to piece together the melody. After a moment, she hummed a few bars,just loud enough for Alex to cringe.
"Okay, wow," Maya said, tossing the napkin back onto the table. "That's depressing. Who died?"
Alex rolled their eyes, snatching the napkin back. "No one died. It's just a song."
"A song that sounds like it was written in a rainstorm while staring longingly out a window," Maya corrected, stealing a sip of Alex's coffee before making a face. "Ugh, how do you drink this? It's basically just sugar."
Alex didn't answer, their gaze drifting back to the napkin. The notes stared back at them, messy and uneven, but alive in a way that made their chest ache.
Maya sighed, leaning forward. "You know, if you actually played these for people, they'd probably love them."
Alex's fingers tightened around the napkin. "Not happening."
"Why not?"
"Because."
"Wow, stellar argument." Maya rolled her eyes. "Look, I get the whole 'tortured artist' thing you've got going on, but at some point, you've got to actually share your art. Otherwise, what's the point?"
Alex opened their mouth to argue, but a sudden movement at the next table caught their attention.
A stranger; tall, with sun-bleached hair tied back in a loose bun;was bending down, picking something up off the floor.
Their latest discarded napkin.
Alex's stomach dropped.
The stranger straightened, turning the napkin over in his hands. His fingers—long and calloused, the kind that had spent years pressing against guitar strings—traced the edge of the paper almost reverently.
Then he hummed.
Just a few notes, soft and experimental, but it was their melody. Their private, half-formed thought given sound by a complete stranger.
And somehow, it sounded better.
Alex's face burned. They wanted to disappear. To sink into the floor. To spontaneously combust.
Maya, the absolute traitor, kicked them under the table. "Oh my god," she whispered, grinning. "This is happening."
The stranger looked up then, his gaze landing squarely on Alex. His eyes—a warm, honey-brown—crinkled at the corners as he smiled.
"Hey," he said, holding up the napkin. "Did you write this?"
Alex's mouth went dry.
Maya kicked them again.
"Um," Alex managed, their voice barely above a whisper. "Yeah. I mean, no. I mean—"
The stranger's smile widened. "It's really good."
Alex blinked. "It is?"
"Yeah." He took a step closer, the napkin still held carefully between his fingers. "Like, really good. You got a name for it?"
Alex shook their head mutely.
The stranger hummed again, tilting his head as he studied the notes. "It kind of reminds me of that feeling you get right before it rains. You know, when the air gets all heavy and everything feels... I don't know. Possible."
Alex stared at him. That was exactly what they'd been thinking when they wrote it.
Maya cleared her throat loudly. "Alex, aren't you going to introduce us to your new biggest fan?"
Alex shot her a glare before turning back to the stranger.Jamie, as he introduced himself. He had an easy confidence about him, the kind that came from years of performing, of being comfortable in front of crowds. The exact opposite of Alex.
Jamie slid into the seat beside them without waiting for an invitation, still studying the napkin. "You write a lot of these?"
Alex shrugged, suddenly hyper-aware of the pile of discarded melodies between them. "Sometimes."
"Can I see?"
Before Alex could protest, Jamie was carefully unfolding another napkin, his eyebrows lifting as he took in the notes. "Damn," he murmured. "You're seriously talented."
Alex's face burned hotter.
Maya, who had been watching the exchange with far too much amusement, suddenly stood. "Well, this has been adorable, but I've got class." She winked at Alex. "Don't do anything I wouldn't do."
Alex groaned, but Maya was already weaving her way through the café, throwing one last grin over her shoulder.
Jamie laughed, the sound warm and rich. "She your manager or something?"
"Unfortunately," Alex muttered, reaching for their coffee only to find it empty.
Jamie noticed and waved over a waitress, ordering two fresh drinks without asking what Alex wanted. When they raised an eyebrow, he just grinned. "Trust me."
And for some reason, Alex did.
They spent the next hour talking—about music, about the café's terrible coffee, about the strange way melodies could sometimes feel like memories. Jamie was easy to talk to, his laughter coming quick and his eyes lighting up whenever Alex tentatively shared an opinion.
At some point, Jamie pulled out his guitar—because of course he just carried it around with him—and played the melody from the napkin. Hearing their own song given life by someone else was surreal, like catching a glimpse of yourself in a mirror you didn't know was there.
"You should play with me sometime," Jamie said as he packed up his guitar, the café lights flickering as evening settled in.
Alex's heart stuttered. "I don't really... perform."
Jamie studied them for a long moment before smiling, slow and knowing. "Maybe you just haven't found the right person to perform with yet." And just like that, the world tilted.