*Lily's POV*

"Mom!" I whine tiredly. For some reason, she continued yet again to ask me what flowers she should use for her next client, saying she trusts my choices.

I sometimes go to my parent's florist shop in the evening. Mason would've been here with me, helping my mom with her decisions. If only we could go back to those times.

"It will only take a minute," she promises, which is inaccurate since I've been here for the past 30 minutes.

Playing with her baby hair, my mom debates once again on which flowers will suit her client. It's really funny how I still remember when my mom's bakery first opened. Due to my fuzzy memory, the only thing I can clearly remember is my little hands in my mom's as we stepped our feet into the store. Even after learning about multiple flowers over the years to help my mom with her work, I never had a favorite flower in particular, loving the beautiful color emit.

"Tulips or Daffodils? The client did say they wanted something simple and casual for their flowerpot. But they really didn't have to nag for it to be perfect, insisting since it's their first house. Now I just feel stressed out by their demand," my mom complained, but still deep in thought on her options.

"Daffodils. Daffodils will do," I suggest. If it's their first house which means a new beginning for them, Daffodils are more fitting for the occasion.

"Thank you!" my mom heaves a sigh or relief and starts packing a bouquet of daffodils. "You should get some rest. I'll see you at home."

I nod and wave my mom goodbye as she gets back to work. Getting on my bike, I ride home, the sun setting as I go.

Soon enough, I get home and once my door is closed, I head to my bed and flop on it, enjoying the fluffy mattress. Mason really does know how to pick the best quality of things.

A smile beams on my face as a new song idea randomly pops in my head and I rush to my desk, scribbling down the lines in my notebook before I forget.

I lay back on my white arm rest chair, exhausted after all my interactions with human kind. If only there was someone I can talk to... or just hug them in silence. Either would be great.

Then it comes to mind, if Mason and I are no longer friends, then what will happen to the song we promised to make together? A song about confessing their feelings to a friend after hiding it long enough for them to get tired of hiding it.

But why do I keep thinking about Mason? Why do I randomly feel his presence everywhere where I go or just doing random things. Everytime I push him away, something always leads me back to him. I can never hate him, no matter how hard I try.

But there's a feeling inside me and no, it is not how I felt when I confirmed my friendship with him. It felt more... heartwarming but this feeling is different and it makes me miss everything about him. From his voice to his presence, the face he makes when he's playing his guitar while I sing and even that huge stupid grin on his face. It always brings warmth to my heart, no matter my mood.

It wasn't the first time I've felt like this though. It all started on a regular day and I've always felt that feeling ever since. I wish I could just bury my feelings somewhere and just think with my head. It's a win-lose situation: my feelings or care for anyone would be left untarnished but I'll still be lonely; trapped in my world full of music.

If true love or true friendship really does exist, is it just that I'll never be able to find either? I've always felt like no one listens to me. Maybe it's because I don't talk in the first place but I've never been a good talker, or the best to start a conversation or engage in one. From simple interactions about sharing similar interests in something is what I've never been good at.

This book was originally published on Royal Road. Check it out there for the real experience.

So to cope with all this in my alone time, I started writing songs about my feelings, my life and my problems, hoping that one day, someone will finally hear my voice and maybe even be part of my symphony.

I turn off my lights and lay on my bed, tiredness surging through me. No matter how early I sleep or how long the span is, I will stay awake feeling like I haven't gotten a wink of sleep.

I play Melancholy on my phone, the music soothing my ears. Contrast to the name, the song has a soft and slow melody that feels me with warmth... and that is one of the reasons I put it in my 'Helping through hard times' playlist. My mind slowly drifts off to a dreamland filled with my nightmares and I hope this time, I'm led to a place full of rainbows and sunshine, even though they don't fit my mood much.

*Mason's POV*

I enter my front door which leads to my grand living room and shut it. The tiles are made with white marbles and the wall painted Sturbridge white that shimmers brightly like stars in the night sky.

"Good evening Sir Arnold," an assistant greets and I turn my attention towards her. She's the only maid who is under my mother and has worked ever since I've moved into town, and never have I once heard her name been called.

"Your mother informed me that your father seeks your presence. Immediately," she informs with a serious tone, her face showing no form of emotion whatsoever.

"Tell them I'll be there in a minute," I reply and head to my room. I throw my bag on my bed and head to my father's office.

Whenever I walk on the stairs that lead there, my heart always hammers against my chest. Why did he call me out of nowhere? Did I... do something wrong 'cause I'm very sure I stayed away from trouble this past week? I take a deep breath and open the door to his office, embracing myself for whatever will be thrown at me.

I walk into his office, the room darkness engulfing me. The grey walls and black tiles are enough to explain what kind of person he is. Even though I've never really understood him.

"Took you long," my father remarks, staring at me with those cold eyes of his. The eyes that I've always detested.

"Sorry father. I had things to attend to." I answer, crossing my arms behind my back as I wait for his reply.

"...I called you here since my heir should be aware of some matters before inheriting my company-"

He pauses, his hand intertwined on the table and gestures for me to take a step away from the door. I follow his orders even though I have no clue of what is to come.

"But before we get onto that topic, when is your birthday?" He asks and my eyebrows raise at his question.

"It's on a Saturday father."

"... I meant what date?" my father clarified and my eyebrows furrow.

"Pardon?”

The muscles on his face tighten at my shocked tone, his face darkening.

"When is your birthday?" he repeats slowly and all it does is make me bite my lip.

"May 21." I answer, my voice almost a whisper. The audacity he has to ask that is as big as his ego and his ego is literally the size of a mansion.

"I will be planning a ceremony for you since it's about time you think about what woman will produce an heir for you".

"Why should a 17 year old be thinking about having an heir?" I question, anger boiling my skin the longer this conversation lengthens.

"I'm definitely sure I didn't raise you to yell or talk back to me in that manner," my father commented, his voice as cold as ice. It stuns me, his glare and his words, like it always does.

"You're getting out of hand. All you've been doing is lazing around instead of working on your status. Did you think word has downed just because you stopped attending detention?"

"...No, father."

"Good because I do not know how many times I have to repeat that you are nothing but an incompetent troublemaker and a disgrace of a son. Do you understand?"

"Yes... father"

"I'll accept it since you haven't been the talk of the town in society these days. Since your birthday isn't close away, I'll give you a few months to change this outrageous attitude of yours. You may leave now."

"Yes... father."

I walk slowly outside his office but quickly shut the door and run up to my room, hot tears running down my eyes.

Why can't he... see me as his son and not some kind of tool? Why can't he care about how I feel about all this? Why can't he love me?

I shut my door and sit against it, tears leaking out of my eyes. When I was young, I looked up to him. He was my role model, the one I would think of when I was hurt, my father. I only knew who he truly was on that day and I still remember it like it was yesterday.

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Lily's Playlist

• Windy Day by Helios Relaxing Space

• Melancholy by Helios Relaxing Space

• N/A

• N/A

• N/A

(Symphony by Clean Bandit was inspired to form a paragraph in this chapter)