"Here Mark." I hand him a red solo cup of beer before filling mine from the keg. Cheap, college-student quality beer, but hey, what are you gonna do when you're nineteen and broke?

I turn back to the group, listening to Tiffany animatedly telling us about the sorority formal Alpha Delta Pi is hosting. It's almost comical how excited she is about tablecloths, flowers, and balloon arches. Girls.

"Oh Cole, I almost forgot!" She excitedly turns to me. "Would Kappa Sigma want to combine formals?"

"Huh?" I'll admit I was only half paying attention to her rambling.

"You're vice president, aren't you? We could have one big formal!" She clasps her hands together. "There are so many couples between us that it'd pretty much be the same people attending two separate events anyways."

That's a surprisingly...logical idea for Tiffany. Maybe I shouldn't underestimate her so much. I still remember my reaction when I found out she was an engineering major. "Yeah, sure," I chuckle. Thank God, it looks like that problem is solved. I quickly stop her before she can start talking my ear off about logistics. "Chris is our event chair, how about we find him and you two can discuss this?"

She cheerfully nods and we walk through the house, looking for the 6'6" blonde who tends to stick out from the crowd. We squeeze through crowded hallways and people packed together in tight groups. The voices of peppy, excited girls blend with the deep laughs of guys egging each other on to do questionable things. Freshmen who haven't learned their limits yet are passed out on the sofas, while their friends are either taking care of them or messing with them. I'm guilty of doing the latter.

"Tiffany!" A group of girls squeal as we walk by the living room.

"One sec Cole, wait up for me," Tiffany says before excitedly chatting with the group. I take a couple steps away and lean against the wall in the much calmer hallway. I absentmindedly scroll through my phone, but a familiar voice piques my attention.

I hear a soft murmur, "Mm n-no..."

I furrow my brows and look up. I can't really make out faces in the dim lighting, but the soft, high pitched voice is definitely familiar.

"My car's parked out front."

That definitely sounds like Chris' deep, assertive voice. I wave to Tiffany and she comes over. "I think I heard Chris, he's somewhere nearby."

We split up and scan the room. It isn't long before I spot Chris, the back of him at least. He's walking towards the front door with his hand on the lower back of a girl stumbling along with him. I quickly catch up to them.

"W-wait n-no." I hear the same soft murmur come from the girl.

"Hey Chris?"

They turn around.

Mel? There's dazed confusion written all over her face.

He smirks when he sees me. "Oh hey Cole, I was just heading out." He slightly tilts his head towards her and winks.

"I think she said no." I narrow my eyes at him, feeling my body begin to heat up.

He raises an eyebrow. "Hey chill, I wasn't gonna do anything man." He places his arm back around Melody and starts to pull her away. "Come on Melody, let's go."

"Stop," I growl and quickly take her arm. Unfortunately, her balance is much worse than I expected, and her tiny body collapses against mine with a surprised squeak. "Oh shit." I do my best to steady her on her ridiculously tall heels.

The angry expression on Chris' face makes it clear he's about to try and pick a fight with me. He takes a step closer to me, he's almost as tall as Mr. Carter, but with significantly more muscle mass. Chris doesn't scare me though.

"Chris!"

We're interrupted by Tiffany happily coming over. She animatedly begins to pour out all her ideas about the formal, completely oblivious to the current tone of the situation. He sighs and just begins nodding at her rambling. Tiffany's social influence over all of the sororities and frats means she can have someone ostracized with the snap of a finger. It's social suicide to be rude to her.

"C'mon Mel," I mumble and carefully lead her outside to my car.

It's like handling a ragdoll as I struggle to help her get buckled into the passenger seat. As soon as I close the doors, the scent of alcohol is magnified within the tight walls of my car. I quickly open the windows to let some cool, fresh air in.

She avoids looking at me as she clumsily tries to straighten out her dress. I don't think I ever would've expected to see her dressed like this. Goosebumps appear on her arms, and she shivers.

"Here," I murmur, handing her an extra hoodie from the backseat. She fumbles a bit but manages to tug it on. The sleeves go several inches past her fingertips, and the length nearly reaches her knees. "What's your address?" I ask as I turn on my car's GPS.

She turns to me and blinks slowly. Her normally bright hazel eyes look glazed over and glassy. Her makeup is smudged underneath her eyes, and her hair is a mess. It's as if I can see the gears slowly turning in her head as she furrows her brows and prepares herself to respond.

Her words slur together, "I'm...not supposed to give out my address...dummy." She stares at me blankly for a moment before pouting, "I'm hungry."

"Alright," I chuckle and start the car.

We drive through the quiet and deserted streets, I guess most of the city must be asleep at 1am. It's quiet for a bit, I thought Melody might've passed out until she speaks up again. "I don't need you to be some sort of white knight for me," she grumbles.

I roll my eyes and chuckle, "You sure are a grumpy drunk." I hand her my water bottle from the cup holder. "Drink, unless you want an even worse hangover tomorrow." I learned the hard way that dehydration and hangovers are a hellish mix.

She pouts again but begrudgingly drinks anyways.

-----

"Thank you," Melody says quietly to the server as he refills her third cup of coffee. I don't know how she managed to fit all of that coffee and greasy diner food in her stomach, but she did anyway.

I feel my phone buzz.

Cole: I'm with Mel at the diner along Highway 7. She needs you to drive her home

Mr. Carter: I'll be there in twenty

The small, old diner is empty besides a booth of equally drunk looking teenagers and two servers who look exhausted and more than ready to head home. The quiet gurgling of a coffee machine brewing is barely audible. Bright lights from infrequent trucks passing by on the highway shine through the windows every once in a while.

"Sobered up?"

"Sorta," she mumbles. "Listen...Cole... I didn't tell you everything this morning."

"Mel, if you're still drunk I don't want you to tell me something you'll regret," I say softly.

She quickly shakes her head. "N-no, it's important. Your last question."

I raise my eyebrows and nod, listening intently.

She closes her eyes and takes in a deep breath before speaking.

"Music has always been my passion. It made me happy that people enjoyed my music," she says before taking a sip of coffee, "but when I got older, people started judging me. What I wore, how I spoke, how I looked. I was twelve for god's sake, do you know what that does to a kid's self-esteem? It was destroying me."

"That must've been rough." I grimace. People can be horrible sometimes, no child should have to deal with something like that.

"I stopped doing interviews and TV appearances, refused to let my picture be taken, and hid my social media accounts. I figured this way, people who were interested in my music would only be here for my music - that's all I've ever wanted."

A server walking by refills her coffee again. He raises a brow at how quickly she finished her previous cup, but he also seems too tired to care much.

"It backfired though, people started to focus on my anonymity instead. It's been seven years and they still do," she laughs dryly. "That's what I get for trying to solve my problems."

I recall the things that came up when I searched up her name that night. Article after article about the "Mysterious Melody Aria." Blurry zoomed-in pictures of her out in public. Stupid theories and gossip. Objectifying her as if she isn't a real person with thoughts and feelings.

"I never wanted a life like this," she says quietly as she tightens her grip on the mug's handle so hard that her knuckles turn pale. "My dad didn't like the idea of fame for me either. My mom respected his wishes, but he died in an accident when I was seven. That left mom free to do whatever she wanted to."

"So what did she do?" I can probably already guess.

"Within a few months, she whisked us away from home in Maryland. Away from family and all of my friends, across the country to move to California. I protested, but I was just a child with no say."

"Oh Mel," I whisper softly and place my hand gently over hers. "I'm really sorry."

It breaks my heart, the drained and broken expression on her face replacing her normally calm and controlled demeanor. Seeing her look so small and fragile. She always seems so put together and mature, so certain about where she's heading in life. It hasn't occurred to me since the very first night we met that we're the same age. Just a couple of nineteen year old's still figuring out who we are, and how we fit into this world.

"Thanks," she murmurs. She pauses for a moment with a thoughtful look on her face. "You asked me the other day, why being recognized gave me so much anxiety."

I nod, wincing. In hindsight, that was pretty ignorant and insensitive of me.

"It brought me back to the old days. My mom," she scoffs, "I mean, momager."

A laugh slips out but I do my best to unconvincingly hide it with a cough. She doesn't seem to mind though, the corner of her lip slightly tugs upwards for a moment.

"I've always been a naturally shy person, but she didn't really care. She was in control of my life. I still don't understand why people were so excited and pushy to meet this child prodigy." She wrinkles her nose. "I can't say I have much more control now either, but I'd take what I have now over that any day. Being able to hide away keeps me sane, it gives me some sense of control over my life."

I feel guilt sink deep into me as I recall her reaction the first time we met in the music building. I swallow back a painful lump in my throat. "Ah. I'm really sorry about being so pushy when we first met," I apologize.

To my surprise, she gives me a warm smile. "It's ok. I forgave you quite some time ago."

I wonder why. It doesn't feel like a good idea or time to pry though. "So you get overwhelmed by large groups of people?"

She sighs and shrugs sheepishly. "Sort of. Getting recognized like that makes me feel so helpless, like the control I'm desperately clinging onto just crumbles, and my mind shuts down. I suppose all of this is why I became so closed off from other people."

I recall thinking Melody was fragile and delicate the other day. Boy have I ever been so wrong. She's gone through so much in her life while still having accomplished so many amazing things. She's probably the strongest person I've ever met.

"Well for what it's worth, I don't think you're closed off," I say with a small smile. She quirks an eyebrow, but I continue, "Even if you don't realize it, you've always expressed yourself through your music. You communicate your thoughts and emotions in deeper ways than words ever could."

Melody will usually play some songs while I'm taking a quick break during our practice sessions. Sometimes it's hard to gauge how she's doing or feeling. She doesn't really like to talk about herself, and she doesn't wear her emotions on her sleeve whatsoever. They show in her music instead. She somehow has the ability to make the same song sound happy or sad. Bold or shy. Calm or distressed. I still have absolutely no idea how she does it. The way she can communicate through music is incomparable to what could ever be possible with regular words, and I think it's amazing.

She gives me a wide smile and lightly squeezes my hand. "Thanks Cole. That's...really sweet."

"Ms. Aria?"

We both look up. Mr. Carter's expression is one you'd find on a dad who just found his slightly drunk daughter at a sketchy diner at 2am. "Hi Mr. Carter," Melody greets him with a sheepish, lopsided grin.

"I knew I shouldn't have trusted your cousin," he grumbles. "Thanks Cole, I'll text you our address in case something like...this happens again."

"Thanks, drive safe."

-----

I make a call as soon as I get home.

"Flynn?" A very groggy voice picks up, "It's two in the goddamn morning, this better be important."

"Sorry Michael, but yeah uh, it's about the Melody article I uploaded this morning."

"What about it?"

"We can't publish it."

He groans, "You can't be serious Cole."

"I'm sorry but it just doesn't feel right anymore. I've had a change of heart tonight."

He sighs. "Fine. Have a new article ready by Monday morning, no exceptions."

"Thanks Michael. Sorry about waking you up, goodn-"

He hangs up.

--------------------------------

I love Melody but she makes my heart hurt 😭

Thanks for reading! :)