When they set up the stage area, Ryan didn't go into the coffee shop for days. employees, customers, managers making a big fuss out of it. As if having open mic nights was something that was that exciting. Ryan knew that this meant something. That it meant he'd have absolutely no peace anymore. Not when he went there.

He didn't have a complicated relationship with music. Because when he'd hear an instrument sound a tune, he'd be drawn in. Drawn into the possibilities of what the player could bring to the table. Would they make him feel like the world was falling right at his feet with no trace of further existence? Or would they make him think of that girl that he never got the chance to ask out?

That was the issue. Music reminded him of everything he loved. Every sound- even every sharp key that was played to be sung, but wasn't always done so. It was something that he could never have- even if he wanted it with his whole self. 

That stage, Ryan didn't know yet, would make him feel the same way that he did about music. He wouldn't only deal with the longing for the music. But also with the players.

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