Sebastian Reinhardt's POV
The music floated in the air, wrapping every corner of Frost Amphitheater in a vibrant energy. Though I usually preferred the seriousness and structure of classical music, there was something about this lighter melody that felt oddly satisfying. Maybe it was the simplicity of the notes or how they seemed to sync with the relaxed atmosphere around me. I couldn't be sure, but I was willing to admit—only to myself —that this kind of music had its occasional charm.
I was sitting under a tree, away from the crowd, watching as students sang, laughed, and enjoyed the concert. I liked staying at the edges, observing without being seen. It felt like I could disconnect from the world for a few moments, though I knew it was only an illusion. But then, something changed.
Out of the corner of my eye, I noticed a figure approaching. I didn't need much time to recognize her. Ellie. The girl from the coffee, the same one I had met earlier by Lagunita Lake. She walked slowly, with the same calmness that radiated through every gesture. Without saying a word, she sat beside me, leaving a respectful but not uncomfortable distance between us.
I said nothing at first. Her presence didn't bother me, but I also didn't understand why she was here. What could someone like her possibly want with me ? After a few minutes, curiosity finally overcame my usual indifference, and I broke the silence.
"And your friends?" I asked, not looking directly at her. My tone was casual, almost distracted, as if the question held no real importance.
Ellie took a moment before answering, but when she did, her voice sounded calm.
"They're enjoying the concert."
I nodded slowly, processing her response.
"So… why come here? If they're having fun, I mean, why aren't you with them?"
Ellie turned her head toward me, her light eyes locking onto mine for a second before shifting back to the stage.
"I saw you were alone," she replied simply. "And I thought maybe you'd appreciate some company."
I raised an eyebrow, surprised by her honesty. No one had ever done something like that for me. Most people avoided getting involved, especially when they sensed I wasn't interested in interaction. But Ellie didn't seem to care about that.
"Company?" I repeated, allowing a faint ironic smile to form on my lips. "I don't recall asking for it."
Ellie didn't flinch at my tone. Instead, she looked straight at me, her expression a mix of patience and determination.
"You don't have to ask to need it," she said softly, yet firmly.
Her words caught me off guard. There was something in the way she spoke that unsettled me, something I couldn't quite grasp. I wanted to counter with a sharp reply, something that would put space between us again and restore the control I always tried to keep.
"Interesting perspective," I commented, leaning slightly back as I crossed my arms. "I suppose you're one of those people who think they can fix everyone, huh? Like the whole world needs saving by you."
My remark carried a sarcastic edge, but Ellie didn't seem offended. Instead, she smiled faintly, as if she had expected exactly that kind of reaction.
"I don't think you need fixing," she replied. "I just thought you might feel better with someone nearby."
Her answer irritated me more than I cared to admit. I wasn't used to someone confronting me so calmly, without trying to impress me or show any weakness.
"Better?" I echoed, letting out a low, dismissive laugh. "You don't know anything about me, Ellie. You shouldn't even be wasting your time trying."
She looked at me for a moment longer, as if weighing my words. Then, she nodded slowly.
"Maybe you're right. But it could also be that you don't want anyone to truly see you."
Those last words lingered in my mind more than I expected. For a second, I felt something inside tighten, as if she had touched a nerve I preferred to keep hidden. But I quickly regained my composure, raising an invisible wall between us.
"Careful, Ellie," I said, my tone hovering between warning and mockery. "You wouldn't want to discover things that might disappoint you."
Ellie didn't respond right away. She remained quiet, watching the stage as the music continued around us. Finally, she spoke, her voice so calm it was almost a whisper.
"I think I've already learned not to judge people too quickly."
Her words left me momentarily speechless. I wasn't sure what to think of her—or of this strange conversation that seemed to crack my usual self-control. But one thing was certain: Ellie Miller wasn't like the others.
A soft breeze blew, rustling the leaves above and carrying away part of the concert's noise. I felt Ellie adjust her beige sweatshirt, as if feeling the night chill. She wasn't looking at me directly, but her presence remained undeniable.
I decided to change tactics. If sarcasm hadn't pushed her away, maybe another kind of distance would work.
"You know, Ellie," I began, adopting a colder tone, "I don't know what you expect to gain by coming here. I'm not the kind of person who looks for superficial friendships or meaningless connections."
She glanced at me briefly, but didn't seem intimidated by my tone.
"I'm not looking for anything in particular," she responded calmly. "I just thought it would be nice to sit here with you."
It was her calmness that bothered me even more. How could someone be so... unshaken? So immune to my attempts to push her away?
"Well then let me make myself clear," I continued, hardening my voice. "I'm not easy to get along with. I don't have time for games or relationships that don't benefit me somehow. So if this is some kind of social experiment or a way to feel good about yourself for helping the lonely guy, save it."
Ellie blinked slowly, as if carefully processing my words. Then, she tilted her head slightly and said,
"I don't think you're lonely. I think you choose to be alone."
That was like a small explosion in my chest. How dare she say something like that? Who was she to analyze my choices, to reduce my life to a simple decision?
"Oh, really?" I replied, my tone sharper now. "And what do you know about my choices? About my life? About the reasons behind what I do?"
Ellie didn't retreat, not even in the face of my growing irritation.
"I don't know much," she admitted. "But I notice how you act. It's like you want everyone to keep their distance, as if you fear someone might see something you prefer to hide."
For a moment, the air felt heavier. Ellie had no right to say these things, to make assumptions about me. Yet, her words were too precise, too close to the truth to completely ignore.
"Interesting analysis," I finally said, trying to sound indifferent. "Still, you're wrong. I'm not afraid of anything. I just don't see the point in complicating my life with people who bring me nothing."
She studied me for a few seconds longer, then spoke with a certainty I hadn't expected.
"I don't think it's about bringing something. I think it's about letting someone in."
I felt a knot in my throat, though I refused to show it. Ellie was touching on topics I avoided thinking about, opening doors I preferred to keep shut.
"Letting someone in?" I repeated, almost murmuring. "Such a simplistic concept."
"Maybe," she said, shrugging. "But not everything has to be complicated. Sometimes, you just need to take a step forward."
I wanted to reply, to contradict her, to prove her wrong. But something in her voice, in her gaze, stopped me. For the first time in a long while, I didn't know what to say.
The concert played on in the background, but our conversation felt like it existed in a world of its own. Ellie hadn't spoken since her last comment, and I hadn't found the words to continue either. The silence between us wasn't awkward, but it wasn't comfortable either. It was simply… there .
Finally, Ellie stood up, gently brushing off her clothes.
"I should go back to my friends," she said, glancing at me briefly. "Thank you for talking with me."
I didn't respond immediately. I watched her walk away, her steps just as calm as when she arrived. Something inside me wanted to stop her, to say more, but I didn't.
When Ellie disappeared into the crowd, I leaned back against the tree and closed my eyes. Her final words echoed in my mind: "Sometimes, you just need to take a step."