By fourteen, “Baby” was everywhere. Liam hated it. Not the song—but the way older kids mocked it. “Justin Bieber? That’s for girls.” So he hid his playlist. He deleted the folder. He grew his hair out, wore dark hoodies, tried to be someone else.

But you can’t fake a world you’ve already built.

That was his My World era.

She smiled. “Mine too.”

At school, he was invisible. The kind of kid who ate lunch with the art teacher. But in his headphones, the world was different. “Favorite Girl” wasn’t about a pop star; it was about Maya Chen, who sat two rows over in science and drew galaxies in the margins of her notebook. “Down to Earth” was the soundtrack to his parents’ muffled arguments through the wall. He’d lie on his bed, the album on repeat, and feel like Justin understood: being young was just a series of small earthquakes.