Always Not Enough

The light spilling through the windows was warmer than usual, slanting across the room and casting gold streaks on the coffee table. My apartment didn't feel as cavernous today, the silence softer, less heavy. For the first time in years, I didn't feel like the walls were closing in.

I tapped my pen against the edge of my open notebook, the tip clicking rhythmically as I stared at the words I'd scrawled across the page.

"Unspoken"—the title sat at the top in bold letters, circled twice for emphasis.

The lyrics came easier than I thought they would, spilling out in a rush of feelings I'd been carrying for years but hadn't dared to face. It wasn't perfect yet—I'd scratched out a line here, scribbled a question mark there—but it was something.

It was me.

A chord progression hummed in my mind as I picked up my guitar, strumming lightly, testing out the melody. It was slow, soft, the kind of song that crept under your skin and stayed there. I could feel it building, note by note, like something inside me finally waking up after being numb for so long.

My chest tightened as the first verse slipped out, my voice low and unsteady:

"Some nights I hear your voice,

In the silence of my mind,

I keep reaching for the echoes,

Of a love I left behind."

The sound of a key in the lock pulled me out of the moment.

"Yo, Malyen! You home?" Zayan's voice echoed through the penthouse.

I rolled my eyes, but a faint smile tugged at my lips. "Yeah, I'm here."

The door swung open, and Zayan strolled in, a bag of takeout in one hand and his usual cocky grin firmly in place. He stopped mid-step, his eyes narrowing as he took in the scene—my guitar in my lap, the notebook open in front of me, and the faint hum of music still lingering in the air.

"Wait a second," he said, setting the bag down on the kitchen counter. "Are you... writing? Like, actually writing?"

"Don't sound so shocked," I muttered, strumming the guitar again.

Zayan walked over, leaning against the back of the couch and peering at the notebook. His eyebrows shot up when he saw the title.

"'Unspoken,' huh?" he said, smirking. "Let me guess—it's about her."

I didn't answer, my fingers still moving over the strings.

"That's a yes," Zayan said, grinning. "So, what's the deal? You finally admit she matters, and suddenly you're back to being a musical genius?"

"Something like that," I said, shaking my head. "Talking to her... it felt like a wake-up call. Like all this shit I've been bottling up finally broke loose."

Zayan crossed his arms, studying me. "And now you're writing songs for her. Romantic. Also, reckless. But mostly romantic."

I sighed, setting the guitar down and leaning back against the couch. "It's not like that."

"Uh-huh," he said, clearly not convinced.

"It's not," I insisted. "This... this song is about everything I didn't say back then. Everything I should've said before she left."

Zayan's teasing smirk softened slightly, his gaze flicking to the notebook again. "You gonna play it for her?"

The question made my chest tighten. "I want to," I admitted. "But... I don't know if she's ready to hear it. Or if I'm ready to play it for her."

Zayan snorted. "Well, lucky for you, I'm here to be your first audience. Go on, hit me with the feels."

I rolled my eyes but picked up the guitar again, my fingers hovered over the strings, the weight of the lyrics pressing down on my chest. Once I played it, I couldn't take it back—it would exist outside of me, and there'd be no pretending it didn't mean anything. I started strumming the opening chords. The melody flowed easily now, the words coming alive as I sang:

"Some nights I hear your voice,

In the silence of my mind,

I keep reaching for the echoes,

Of a love I left behind.

I should've told you then,

The way you lit my sky,

But the words got lost in shadows,

And now I wonder why."

The pre-chorus hit, and my voice gained strength as I sang:

"How do you fix a broken promise,

When it's written in the past?

How do I hold onto forever,

When forever didn't last?"

By the time I hit the chorus, my chest felt tight, like the song itself was dragging the emotions out of me:

"If I could take it all back,

Would you hear me this time?

Would you hold me through the aching,

Or just leave me in my lies?

All the things I couldn't say,

They're the ones that hurt the most,

Now I'm chasing all the memories,

Of the words I should've spoke."

The song poured out of me like it had been waiting years to be heard. Every note, every word felt like a piece of me laid bare. 

For the first time in years, it didn't feel like I was just screaming into the void. The words were still heavy, still painful, but there was something else there too. Something lighter. Like maybe—just maybe—I wasn't completely broken.

When I finished, the last chord fading into the silence, I looked up at Zayan.

He was quiet for a moment, his arms crossed as he stared at me. Then he let out a long breath, shaking his head.

"Man," Zayan said, rubbing the back of his neck, "I knew you were holding onto something, but this… This isn't just a song, Malyen. It's a damn confession."

I chuckled.

"Well, shit," he said finally. "You weren't kidding. That was... intense."

"Yeah?" I asked, my chest tightening.

"Yeah," he said, his voice softer now. "It's good, Malyen. Like, really good. Emotional. Honest. Maybe a little too honest, but hey, that's what makes it work."

I let out a breath I hadn't realized I was holding, setting the guitar aside again.

"But," Zayan added, his tone turning teasing again, "you realize this means you're screwed, right?"

I frowned. "What do you mean?"

He smirked. "You write a song like that, you have to play it for her. There's no going back now. You're officially in too deep."

I groaned, leaning my head back against the couch. "You're the worst."

"And you're the most lovesick rockstar I've ever met," he shot back, grinning.

I shook my head, but a small smile tugged at my lips.

"Seriously, though," Zayan said, his voice softening again. "If you play that for her, she's gonna know exactly how you feel. So, before you do, you need to figure out if you're ready for her to know. Because once she hears it, there's no hiding anymore."

His words hung in the air, heavy with meaning.

I nodded slowly, my mind already spinning.

"I'll think about it," I said finally.

"Good," he said, standing up and clapping me on the shoulder. "Just don't overthink it, yeah? Sometimes you just gotta take the leap."

With that, he grabbed the takeout bag and headed for the kitchen, leaving me alone with my notebook and the lingering echo of the song.

I picked up the guitar again, strumming softly as I stared at the title at the top of the page.

"Unspoken."

The truth was, I wasn't sure if I'd ever be ready to play it for her. 

I stared at the notebook again, the title at the top staring back at me like a challenge. Unspoken. This song wasn't just for her—it was for the me I lost the day she walked out of my life. For the boy who let his silence ruin everything. For the man who's still trying to find the courage to speak.