Glimpses of a melody flit through my head, and I briefly wonder if I should record it before I forget. My creative process is kind of weird, but when I latch on to a story or a character and imagine what it must feel like to be them, to experience their pain, their happiness—a rush of emotions flows through me, and music and lyrics pour out.
I pull out my guitar and play a few chords, turning my train of thought into a song. And then, through some dark magic, or a primordial black hole that dilates time in a way I’m not aware of, I lose track of how long I spend jotting down ideas. When my phone dings again, it’s 4:04AM.
Fuck.There goes my sleep schedule. I should probably—
A DM request appears on my private account. Only a few people know this is me—I have a Pokémon as a profile picture, and I don’t even use my real name.
@KAIOLIVEIRA
HAVE YOU READ THE CHAPTER
@DITTOTHEDIVA
how did you find this account?
My heart thuds. I thought Kai had blocked me on everything.
@KAIOLIVEIRA
THERE IS NO TIME. HAVE YOU READ THE CHAPTER?
I snort. Maybe he’s not an art major, but if there’s someone who’d be up this late on a weekday waiting for a chapter to drop, it’s Kai.
@DITTOTHEDIVA
i have, and i have a theory. hear me out.
@KAIOLIVEIRA
actually, do you just want to grab lunch tomorrow? i have a theory too
@DITTOTHEDIVA
don’t you have class?
@KAIOLIVEIRA
this is more important.
I’m about to heart the message, but my fingers stop short of hitting Send.
Be careful.Mia’s words ring in my ears like an omen.
Maybe I shouldn’t hang out with him so soon. Is it selfish of me to want to be close again if romance is out of the question? Am I complicating things? Should I just let this friendship fade into nothing? AmIsupposed to just fade into nothing? Is this what it means to be aroace? To disappear in everyone else’s noise?
@KAIOLIVEIRA
it’s totally okay if you’re busy. i forgot you’re famous now.
I am, which is an added layer of complexity I didn’t even consider. Deep down, I know what I have to do, so I draw in a long breath and steady my fingers before they fly over the keyboard.
CHAPTER 5
Shirley’s music studio is my safe haven, a home away from home. The walls are lined with sound-absorbing panels and wooden accents that give the space a cozy vibe. A large window overlooks the city, with just enough light filtering through the thick curtains and the faint hum of Los Angeles barely audible outside like a distant heartbeat.
Shirley’s awards are on displays near the door, facing the recording booth, and a giant mixing desk sits in the middle of the room, cluttered with a few monitors and synthesizers, an array of cables running in every direction across the floor.
I’ve been working with Shirley since my first album, and they’re like an older sibling to me. When I signed with my label, I was worried about working with new people. For so long my music had just been me in my room. But Shirley and I clicked immediately. They understand me, my soul, my music, and what each song needs.
