All Strings Attached

CHAPTER ONE: The First Note

“I’m not here for your compliments,” I replied. “I’m here because I want to learn—To grow and be the better version of myself. And because you’re the best person to learn from.”

He raised an eyebrow. “That’s debatable.”

“Still true,” I insisted while stepping closer to him now. “I want to try out for the National University Performance Exchange, I’m aiming to be a lead performer. That's why I need someone brutal, someone honest…Someone who won’t let me pass if I’m just average.”

“So you want me to train you.” He leaned back to the wall, arms crossed. “Eh apno king sabihin kong ayoko??”

“Edi kukulitin kita hanggang sa pumayag ka.”

Steve smirked—FUCK, is this true? He smirked?  “Quite persistent, cute.”

“Huh, what? Excuse me?”

“Nothing.” He pulled his turtle neck off, revealing a white tank top in his lean frame and a neck full of faint guitar strap marks—It must be from leaning the guitar at the table earlier.

He stood up, and stretched. “Fine.But you need to show me something.”

“Hoy?! B-bakit may ipapakita?!”

“Pfft- Ha! Gago, Anong iniisip mo? I want you to sing.”

“Ahhhhh…”

I hesitated, suddenly aware of how quiet the room had become. It was just the two of us now. There's no crowd to cheer for me, no lights from the stage, Just my voice—and Steve’s judgment.

“Ngayon na?”

He tilted his head. “Gusto mo ng real training, di ba? O palabas lang lahat ng mga sinabi mo? Ha, Bagay ka nga sa theater class.”

I started to squared my shoulders, I took a breath, and sang.

[Singing the first verse of Mahika]

Nagbabadya ang hangin na nakapalibot sa'kin

Tila mayro'ng pahiwatig, ako'y nananabik—

My voice rang clear, rich, steady—but halfway through the second line, he suddenly raised a hand.

“Stop.”

My heart dropped.

“Masyado kang nag iisip,” Steve said, walking around me slowly like a lion circling a prey. “You’re controlling your breath, your tone— everything. It's too perfect. It was too rehearsed.”

“And th—that’s... bad?”

Steve stopped in front of me, meeting my gaze. “It’s boring.”

I blinked, I was thrown on what he said.

“You’re good,” He added, softer this time. “Too good, but there’s no soul in it. No crack and no edge. Kung gusto mong pahangain ang mga tao, you can keep on doing that. But, If you wanna move people—get ugly.”

I felt the heat rise to my cheeks. I wasn’t used to being told that I was boring. Especially not by someone so casually cruel.

“I can be real,” I seriously said to him.

He looked amused. “Then, pove it. Bumalik ka rito bukas na bukas din. Walang warm-ups, walang vocal runs, Just sing something that f***ing hits.”

---

That night, just  lay in my bed, earbuds in, replaying the session we had in my head. Steve’s words echoed loudly.

“Masyado kang nag iisip”

“Too perfect”

“It’s boring.”

“Get ugly.”

I hated how it made sense.

But what unsettled me more was the way that Steve had looked at me—not with indifference, not with disdain—but with… interest. A piece of something that I couldn’t place. Like Steve was seeing more than just talent in me…

I really wondered,Is that  what Steve would look like when smiling for real? Not the smug grins or teasing smirks—but a real smile... That kind of smile that you gave to someone you trusted.

Shit.

“Why did I want to see it again so badly?!”

“Argh! I'm losing my mind”

____
Steve's Perspective

I stared at the studio ceiling long after Jairus has left.

I really hated persistent people, I hated those cocky charmers who thought they could waltz into my space and expect magic to happen.

But damn, That guy…he was cute.

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