He pushed open the door to the practice room; it creaked loudly, as always. Inside sat the old upright piano, its surface scratched and scarred. In the corner was a worn-out music stand and a folding chair that wobbled if you leaned too far to the left. It wasn't much, but to Jayden, the room felt like the quietest place in the world.
He laid his violin case on the table and hesitated before opening it. The cracked wood still hurt to look at, like staring at a bruise that refused to fade. He lifted the violin gently, holding it as if it might crumble.
"Maybe music isn't made for people like me," he whispered to the empty room—words he hadn't meant to say, but had fallen out the night before. He closed his eyes and tried to breathe past the ache.
Then the door clicked behind him.
He spun around, startled. Elliot leaned against the doorway, snow melting on the shoulders of his coat. He held a paper cup of coffee in one hand, steam rising in slow curls. He looked out of place in the dimly lit room, but not uncomfortable—as if he'd been in rooms like this long before wealth ever touched his life.
Jayden's breath caught. "How... how did you find me?"
"I looked," Elliot said, stepping inside. "Places like this are where I spent most of my time as a kid. Figured someone with your heart might gravitate toward the same kind of space."
Jayden didn't know what to say. He wasn't used to adults showing up twice. Once was normal—pity came cheap. Twice meant intention, and intention always made him wary.
Elliot set the coffee on a nearby shelf and nodded at the violin. "You play here often?"
"Yeah," Jayden said quietly. "We can't practice much in my building. Too loud. Thin walls."
Elliot walked slowly around the room, observing the piano, the stand, the peeling paint. "I remember places like this," he murmured. "Drafty windows, broken keys. But sometimes the best music I ever heard came from spaces that looked like they should have been forgotten."
Jayden stared at him. "You play?"
"Used to." Elliot gave a faint smile. "Back when I still had more dreams than meetings."
Jayden wasn't sure what that meant, but he felt something soften in his chest.
Elliot pointed gently at the violin. "May I?"
Jayden blinked. "You... want to see it?"
Elliot's voice warmed. "I want to understand what you're fighting for."