𝗰𝗮𝘁𝗰𝗵 𝗺𝗲 𝗶𝗳 𝗜 𝗳𝗮𝗹𝗹 𝟮 ⁑ t.holland

4. what I need right now

At first I enjoyed studio time, liked being able to sing my heart out and then hear it all over again. Sometimes, whenever I was alone in my apartment, I'd record myself writing something new. I'd be caught by surprise too because I'd improvise something and then later use it in the actual demo. 

That was all in the beginning. I started realizing more and more that I had absolutely no say in what I put out and that they all just made me think I did. The producers, Miguel, PR. No one trusted me enough to do all of it by myself.

I started liking studio time less as time went on, annoyed every time they told me to change something from my song. I understood that criticism was a part of the job... but they changed most of my songs completely so it'd match their aesthetic, not mine.

Now, whenever I'm caught recording or re-recording a song with the two producers, Colton and Bryan, I'd make that hour a living hell for them. Because, maybe one day, they'll get so sick and tired of me that they'll leave me the fuck alone.

They paused the music, my head shooting up, glaring at them through the glass. They rewind the tape and twirl their finger around itself, signaling me to do that whole part again. I sigh and adjust my posture, taking in a finaly deep breath before singing the harmonies that went with the chorus of one of my most recent demos.
I closed my eyes, letting each note roll into another one with ease. My left hand presses against the headset out of habit, trying my hardest to not let my voice crack when hitting the highest note of the entire song.

Once the music faded out, I turn back to them and wait for their cue.
They play the tape over and sit back, a smile on their faces. While they were out enjoying the song, I stood there, helpless. It didn't turn out the way I planned it to. I was hoping for something with a slower tempo, with more meaning and feeling to it. But instead, they produce another generic pop song.

I pull the headset off from around my head, running my fingers through my hair before looking back up, my water bottle in hand this time. 
I feel my heart skip a beat when seeing the blue-eyed blonde I missed dearly. Emily stood there, scanning the area, waiting for me outside the room.

I quickly set my bottle down and run out the booth, catching both Colton and Bryan's attention. One of them spins around in the chair, brows furrowed. "Hey, we're not done yet" He says, annoyed.

I roll my eyes and open the door, shutting it behind me.
Emily turns to me, a confused and worried look on her face. It was all understandable considering I texted her that I needed to talk with her ASAP, and that it was some kind of emergency.

I didn't expect her to be here so quick though, or... come here at all. I was sure she hated me, never wanted to see or talk to me again. But, here she was, standing only a couple feet in front of me.

My breath is shaky, my hands are sweating. I can feel my breath hitch in the back of my throat when hearing the words "Are you okay?" fall out of her mouth. 
I nod my head and grab her hand, pulling her into an empty office down the hall from the previous recording studio. I close the door and lock it, turning to her.

She stood in the middle of the small room, looking around, confused. "Brooklyn, what's going on?" Emily asked again, waiting for me to find the right words to say.

"I just..." I mutter out, not knowing what I was trying to tell her. "I just need you right now" I finally say, my voice softer than usual.
I walked around with confidence that pissed me off sometimes. I never let myself be weak in front of anyone at all. I haven't cried in what feels like forever, I don't talk about my feelings, I don't ever let myself be vulnerable. But here I was, practically on my knees, hoping she'd just stick around while it felt like my entire world was collapsing around me.