Daniel Emanuel Guevarra

The next day, I walked into the choir room with a weight in my chest that I couldn’t shake. I replayed yesterday’s conversation with Alex over and over in my head, trying to figure out if anything I said had gotten through to him. The way he had looked at me, that flash of something beneath the arrogance, stuck with me, even after he stormed out.

As I set my bag down on my chair, I couldn’t help but feel a mixture of dread and anticipation. I had no idea how Alex was going to act today. Would he be even worse after our confrontation, or had I somehow managed to reach him?

Lucy, Emma, and Grace were already sitting in their usual spots, chatting quietly as they flipped through sheet music. Noah was warming up his vocal in the corner while Vincent was at the piano since he knew how to play. We were still waiting for the three altos since they were student assistants at the teacher's office. The air felt tense like everyone was holding their breath, waiting for the inevitable clash.

“Hey, Danny,” Lucy greeted, her eyes scanning my face. “You okay? A little tense are we?”

“Yeah,” I muttered, rubbing my neck. “Just waiting to see what Alex does today.”

Lucy nodded. Her voice was soft but concerned. “Did you talk to him yesterday?”

I hesitated before answering, my mind flashing back to the intensity of our conversation. “Yeah, I talked to him. I don’t know if it did any good, though.”

She sighed. “Well, if he keeps acting like he did yesterday, we might not have much of a choir left. Everyone’s getting fed up. The Altos are on the brink of quitting.”

I knew she was right. The group was on edge, and Alex’s attitude was a ticking time bomb. One wrong move, and we could lose more than just his voice; we could lose the entire choir. Before I could respond, the door creaked open, and Alex strolled in, his usual swagger on full display. He was wearing a dark hoodie, the hood pulled up over his head like he didn’t care about the world. His eyes scanned the room, landing on me for a split second before he looked away.

“Here we go,” Lucy muttered under her breath.

I watched him carefully as he walked to his usual spot at the back of the room. He didn’t say anything, didn’t throw out any snide remarks or sarcastic comments. He just sat down, arms crossed, eyes focused on the floor. That was new?

Mr. Bocelli entered the room a few minutes later. “Alright, everyone, let’s get started. We’re continuing what we’ve left, so I want everyone to focus and listen to each other.”

We began the warm-ups, the usual scales and breathing exercises filling the room. I kept glancing at Alex, half-expecting him to roll his eyes or make a joke. But he didn’t. He just followed along. He wasn’t as engaged as I’d have liked, but he wasn’t disrupting anything either. It was a small improvement, but I’d take it.

When we moved on to the actual piece, things started to fall into place. The group sounded better and more in sync. Alex’s deep bass filled the room, blending perfectly with the other parts. He wasn’t trying to show off or outshine anyone; he was actually listening. I caught his eye once during the middle of the piece, and for a second, I thought I saw something, maybe a flicker of focus, or even enjoyment. But it was gone as quickly as it came, replaced by his usual stoic expression.

After an hour of practice, Mr. Bocelli dismissed us, and I felt a strange sense of relief. It had been our best rehearsal in weeks, and while Alex hadn’t exactly been friendly, he hadn’t been a total nightmare, either.

As the others packed up their things and left the room, I hung back, keeping my eyes on Alex. He was still sitting in his chair, looking like he was debating whether to leave or stay.

I took a deep breath and walked over to him. “Alex.”

He glanced up at me, his expression unreadable. “What?”

I hesitated for a moment, not sure how to approach this without setting him off. “You did well today. Thanks for actually trying.”

His eyes narrowed slightly, like he didn’t trust the compliment. “Don’t make a big deal out of it.”

“I’m not,” I said quickly. “I just appreciate it. We all do.”

Alex scoffed, but there wasn’t as much bite to it as usual. “Yeah, well, don’t expect it to last.”

I frowned, sitting down on the edge of the stage near him. “Why not?”

He shrugged, looking away. “Because this is stupid. This isn’t my thing. I don’t do… teamwork, or whatever this is.”

“But you could,” I said, trying to keep my voice steady. “You’re good, Alex. You’re really good. You could actually enjoy this if you let yourself be immersed in it.”

Alex was quiet for a long moment, his eyes fixed on the floor. I could see the tension in his jaw, the way his hands clenched into fists in his lap. There was something deeper going on with him, something more than just arrogance.

“You don’t get it,” he muttered finally, his voice low. “You don’t know what it’s like.”

“What do you mean?” I asked, leaning in slightly. This was the first time he had ever opened up, even a little, and I didn’t want to blow it by pushing too hard.

“Singing, it’s just crap and all.”

“Don’t you fucking say that! You act like you know everything about singing, but in reality, you are just an arrogant piece of shit who is not even that great!” I rage out, my head lowered as I didn’t want to face him. The room was silent. Realizing what happened, I looked up and saw Alex staring blankly at me.

He let out a bitter laugh, shaking his head. “You all act like singing is everything. Like it’s some big, life-changing thing. But for me? It’s just bullshit, a waste of time.”

I blinked, caught off guard by the rawness in his voice. “Waste of time?”

“Yeah,” he said, his voice tight. “I used to love singing. I grew up around this stuff. Music. Singing. Anything that involves the arts. My parents, they’re obsessed with it. They think it’s the only thing that matters. And no matter what I do, it’s never enough. I’m never enough.”

He paused, his eyes narrowing as he stared at the floor. “So, yeah. Maybe I’m good at this and sometimes I am a douchebag, but it doesn’t mean anything to me. Not when I know I’ll never be good enough for them to even say a good job, it was always do better!”

I didn’t know what to say. I had no idea Alex was dealing with that kind of pressure. I’d always assumed he just didn’t care, but maybe it wasn’t that simple. Maybe he did care too much.

“Alex,” I said quietly, trying to find the right words. “I-I’m sorry. I didn’t know.”

He shrugged, but there was a bitterness to it. “Whatever. It’s not your problem anyway.”

I sat there for a moment, trying to process everything he’d just said. This whole time, I had been so focused on his attitude, on how he was disrupting the group, that I hadn’t even considered what might be going on behind the scenes.

“Look,” I said finally, my voice soft. “I get that your parents might not see it, but you’re enough. You’re more than enough.”

Alex looked up at me, his expression unreadable. For a second, I thought he might snap at me, but instead, he just stared, like he wasn’t sure how to respond.

I stood up, grabbed my bag, and slung it over my shoulder. “You don’t have to prove anything to anyone here. Not to your parents, not to us. Just do it because you want to. Because you enjoy it.”

Alex didn’t say anything, but the tension in his shoulders seemed to ease just a little. I gave him a small nod before heading for the door, hoping that maybe, just maybe, something had shifted between us.

The next few rehearsals were different. Alex still wasn’t exactly warm and fuzzy, but he wasn’t going out of his way to make things difficult, either. He showed up on time, followed instructions, and even started contributing during practice. It was subtle, but I could tell something had changed. He wasn’t just going through the motions anymore; he was engaged.

The rest of the group noticed it, too. Lucy stopped making sarcastic comments under her breath, and Emma seemed less tense during practice. Noah, ever the observer, even mentioned it to me during lunch one day.

“Whatever you said to him worked,” Noah remarked, taking a bite of his sandwich. “He’s not as much of a pain anymore.”

I shrugged, not wanting to jinx it. “I think he’s just figuring things out.”

Vincent raised an eyebrow but didn’t press the issue. “Well, whatever it is, it’s working. Let’s just hope it lasts.”

I nodded, silently agreeing. I had no idea how long this truce would last, but for now, I was just grateful that we were finally making progress.

As we wrapped up another successful rehearsal, I couldn’t help but feel a strange sense of accomplishment. We were sounding better than we ever had, and Alex had even started contributing suggestions during practice. It wasn’t much, just small tweaks here and there, but each one made a noticeable difference.

“Hey, Emma,” Alex called during warm-ups, his voice calm but assertive. “On that last run, you’re hitting the high note too early. Try sliding into it, like—” He hummed the note effortlessly, giving it just the right amount of smoothness. Emma blinked, surprised, but when she followed his advice, the result was perfect.

A little later, as we ran through the harmonies, Alex stopped mid-song. “Wait,” he said, holding up a hand. “Noah, I think you're overpowering the altos in that section. Try softening your tone here. You need to blend, not dominate.”

Noah looked ready to argue but gave it a shot, and just like that, the section clicked into place. I saw the looks of quiet approval exchange among the others. They were starting to respect Alex, too.

As we packed up, I caught Alex’s eye. He gave me a brief nod, one that felt less like a truce and more like an acknowledgment that he was fully in this now, no longer just doing us a favor but becoming part of something bigger.

“Not bad today,” I said as we slung our bags over our shoulders.

“Not bad?” He smirked, slinging his leather jacket over his shoulder. “You mean we sounded amazing.”

I rolled my eyes, but I couldn’t hide the small grin tugging at the corners of my mouth. “Yeah, okay. Maybe we did.”

I felt like maybe we were actually starting to understand each other. And that was something I hadn’t expected, but I wasn’t complaining.