Y/N POV

It was almost midnight by the time we got to the house. After the beach we went to get dinner at In N Out and hung out there for about an hour. We opted out for some ice cream or froyo, but Ethan and Christian were too full. I didn't feel like going out for more food either and was getting tired. Actually, I was getting so tired I fell asleep in the car. I can't imagine how that turned out.

I manage to wake up from my sleep a little after 1. Surprisingly, I'm wide awake now and find the energy to take a shower and get the sand off me. I'm certain that everyone else is sleeping by now, but when I get out, I see Daniel playing the piano in the living room.

He seems so focused and peaceful, I don't want to bother him. I try quietly going to my room when I end up tripping on my doorway. He immediately stops playing. Yep, that definitely got his attention. I try to help myself get up, but I can't so I just watch him watch me. It was definitely another awkward moment for sure.

"Whoa, you alright there?" He asks, getting up from the bench. He rushes over to me and helps me up, my right ankle extremely hurts. I can't seem to apply pressure on it or walk on it. I start to be filled with worry and anxiousness. "Y/n, how are you feeling?"

"I'm alright. My right ankle," I say while pointing to where it hurts. "It just feels sore, but that's it." Just then Daniel picks me up and puts me on the couch and goes into the kitchen searching through cabinets. He comes back with an ice pack and some medical wrap.

"Here, hold this." He says, handing me the ice pack. I take it from him and watch him unravel the medical wrap. He proceeds to wrap my ankle in different directions. "You sprained your ankle." He says quietly, then he looks at and takes the ice from my hand and puts it on top of my ankle. He then props my foot up onto a throw pillow and moves down.

"How'd you know?" I say with amazement and shock. He leans back lazily against the sofa and keeps his eyes distant.

"Growing up there were a lot of sprained ankles shared between me and my brothers." He explains, "My mom taught us all about first aid the more we broke things."

"That's good." I say, I can't really relate to the subject as much as I should.

"Your mom has never taught you stuff like that? With your brother being a football player growing up?" He asks, seeing the expression on my face.

"No, not really. She didn't come to much of his games. Too scared to see him get hurt. My dad's the one who's into football, maybe even more than my brother." I tell him, surprised that I did. "You know, you're the first person I've ever said that to."

He looks up his face with a warm smile, "Really?"

I nod back, "Yeah, really. My friends back home think my brother's all that you know? Back home he's this football star and hometown legend. But here,"

"Here, he's just your brother." He says, finishing my sentence. Now I have a warm smile.

"Yeah. It's kinda nice actually. It's different. It's new." There's a sweet silence between us. Like we both know exactly what we're saying without having to say it. Daniel then gets up from the sofa and makes his way to the piano in front of us; I turn my head to his direction.

"This might sound super weird and out of topic, but can I play something I've been working on?" His feet shuffle against the peddles and he starts twiddling his thumbs.

"That's not weird at all. Of course." I say. He mumbles something to himself and turns around to the keys. He begins to play, and it's already beautiful. Every note he plays is like a breath of fresh air. The melody is different, but that's what makes it so interesting. He plays with such passion and love for his music, as if he wants to share it with the whole world. It's like the song has it's own voice. The voice is Daniel's.

He continues playing until I fall asleep. The rest of the night I slept peacefully, forgetting I even sprained my ankle in the first place.

> > > later that morning > > >

I wake up around 8 to the smell of french toast leading towards the kitchen. I see Christian moving lightning fast flipping bread, cracking eggs, mixing batter - he's a machine. I watch my brother write in some finishing touches to his essay at the dining table. Ethan sees me stretch and try to sit up.

"Y/n, how are you? How's your ankle? I woke up and saw you on the couch all wrapped up, what happened?" He asks, frantically coming my way. I sit up and laugh at my brothers concern, it's nice seeing him like this. Worried, just like Mom.

"I'm fine, E. I tripped while going to my room last night and Daniel helped wrap it." I tell him. He looks towards the piano, where Daniel's sweatshirt lies on the bench.

"Well, that was for sure done by a Seavey if I've ever seen a wrap so neat. Only our mom could wrap an ankle like that, obviously someone's been paying attention growing up." Christian says from the stove. We all laugh for a quick minute.

Ethan then puts his focus on my ankle, "Well, I'm glad you're okay. You don't need to see a doctor? I can drive you if you want I-"

"Ethan, I'm fine. I promise." I tell him reassuringly. He lets it go and goes back to his essay. Christian comes to the couch and hands me a plate of french toast with syrup and powdered sugar. He pulls out a fork and butter knife from a pocket in his apron.

"You should be able to walk in no time. Me and Ethan are gonna head to class in 15, so, only walk when you really need to. Here's the remote for the TV, it's really self-explanatory on how to work it, you'll figure it out." 

"And don't forget to call if there's an emergency!" Ethan calls out from the dining room.

"And if you need anything, Daniel's here at your service." Christian says and goes back to the kitchen.

"Thanks guys, really. You're really the best." I tell them. It wouldn't have been the same situation at home. Mom and Dad would've been at work already, but then again, none of this would've happened if I was there. 15 minutes pass by and they're out the door. Me and Daniel get the whole house to ourselves. Well, more like Daniel has the whole house to himself. I get the living room to myself. An hour passes and all I've done was watch Netflix. Daniel is still in his room, most likely asleep. I want to thank him for last night, but I can't seem to wait. Christian said walk if I need to, and I do want another slice of toast, so I get up.

I manage to half walk, half limp over to Daniel's room with a plate of french toast in one hand. I knock on his door - no response. I open the door slightly, trying to not make it squeak. I see Daniel, still asleep on his bed. I tiptoe over to his desk and place the plate next to his books. As I tiptoe back out, he wakes up.

"Y/n?" he says groggily. He sits up from his bed and rubs his eyes. I look at him blankly. "What are you doing?"

"Just wanted to say thanks for last night." I say, proceeding to try to walk out.

"Oh, it's no problem. Should you be walking on that?" He asks, pointing to my ankle. I look down at it's awkward position.

"It's not that bad anymore." I say, playing it cool. 

"Okay well. Go back to the couch, I'll be there." He says, and I obey. I slowly make my way to the couch and subconsciously comb my hair with my fingers. He eventually gets out of his room with a fresh set of clothes and his plate of french toast. 

He sits down on the armchair next to the far end of the sofa and begins to eat. I feel weird watching him eat, so I pretend to text on my phone. 

"This is really good." He says in between bites. I look up at him amusingly.

"You know I didn't make that, right?" I say letting out a light laugh.

"Yeah, I know. Christian did. It's all he's been making so far." He says, leaving us both sharing another little laugh.

Throughout the day we continued watching and stayed in the living room. I start doing my schoolwork around lunchtime while Daniel plays his guitar. After reading a couple chapters of my English novel, I look up to see him tuning.

"So what do you do?" I ask. He looks up, leaving his attention from the guitar.

"What do you mean?" He asks, confused. I end up laughing for a little bit.

"You know what I mean. Don't you go to school too?" 

"Oh, yeah. Sometimes." He says, I put my book down.

"Sometimes? What's that supposed to mean?" 

He scratches the back of his head, "You know, some days I don't, some days I do."

I throw a pillow at him playfully. I don't believe what he's saying, and I'm totally confused. "What so you just go to school when you feel like it? Is that some California thing that they do here?" 

He laughs at my question. "No, I'm uh, suspended for the whole week." His face turns red.

"Suspended? You? How? Why?" I ask. I'm genuinely surprised.

"I don't know, I just stopped showing up. But it's fine, I'm probably just gonna do online school like what you're doing. That looks more fun anyway." He says, I'm even more surprised.

"Trust me, it's not fun. I'm missing my last homecoming and winter formal. There's none of that in online school." I tell him. Suddenly a rush of emotions fill my body just like it did when I found out I was coming here.

"Well, yeah, I'm sure those stuff are fun when you've got friends to go with." He says, adding on to me shock.

"You don't have friends? You? Daniel Seavey, the nicest guy I've met here since I came." I tell him, he blushes. 

"Well, not everyone exactly wants to be friends with "Mozart-wannabe" he says, using finger quotes. 

"You're not a "Mozart-wannabe", you just like music what's so wrong with that?" I adjust my pillows to get more comfortable.

"Yeah I guess. I don't know if that's even the problem. I think I just like to spend more time with music you know? Never really had the chance to make friends." He confesses. I look at the disappointment in his eyes.

"Well, you got Corbyn. And Jonah, Zach, and Jack." I tell him, trying to lighten the mood.

"Yeah, well we're all in different grades. And I don't see them as school friends, you know?" I nod back, actually knowing exactly what he means.

"Well, when you're off from this stupid suspension, actually go back. Go to your homecoming and all the parties, if not for you, then for me. At least one of us will have their senior year experience. Will you do that?" I ask him, adding some puppy-eyes action at the end.

He looks at me, and looks up to think about it for a moment. "Fine. Only cause you asked." We both chuckle.

"Hey, this is for both of us. You'll do well in school, have fun, and I'll have fun watching you have fun." I say, and I mean it. Maybe I won't get to go to my homecoming and after-game parties, but at least I can watch him do all that stuff. Maybe it won't be the worst thing ever watching him do what I want to do.

"Whatever you say y/n." he says, and we each go back to our original routines.