Hollow [h.s]

chapter twenty-nine

"Just one song guys then we can go.", I encourage them from where I am standing in the corner of the hotel room by the door. I think I am subconsciously blocking it so they can't make a run for it. The boys are being particularly difficult today.

We are in a hotel in Torino, Italy. They had a show here last night, and were doing interviews here today. Now I am trying to get a song out of them which is proven to be difficult without Julian here. Here had to fly to Los Angeles to work with another person he is writing for. I know he likes to say I am the leader of the writing team, but really he is. All the boys listen to him and respect him greatly so it's easier for him to get them to do what he wants them to.

I wish I could just write the songs by myself, but management wants them included in the writing so people take them more seriously as artists.

"Okay listen up. We are going to write a song whether you like it or not. If it takes four hours or four minutes we will be writing one before you leave this room. So it's your choice if you want to go out tonight or not.", I speak sternly shrugging my shoulders with my hands in my pockets nonchalantly like it doesn't bother me how long we take.

They all stare at me from their places on the two leather couches sitting across from each other in front of me. Harry has his elbow on the arm of the couch he is sitting on with his fist propping his head up and a slow smile creeps on his lips showcasing his dimples. He seems amused with my annoyance at their lack of work. He won't be amused when I slap that stupid look off his face.

Niall is the first to move and he leans forward slowly grabbing his guitar off the coffee table between them.

"Come on guys. Stop being difficult.", Niall says, leaning back and propping his guitar up on his knee.

Fucking finally.

I know the boys can be difficult and refuse to work to rile people up, I have seen it. But I have never been on the receiving end of that difficulty. And I never want to be. They all collectively take a deep breath like they are preparing themselves for something horrible. They are so fucking dramatic, really they should be in a soap opera.

I walk over to the tall dresser pushed against the wall and grab my journal off the top of it that is opened to a page. I already have a concept I want to work on picked. I have found writing sessions go quicker when I have something prepared instead of trying to come up with something on the spot.

We get situated and I present the idea and we discuss how to start the song off and what strings Niall should play on the guitar. I'd rather be the one playing it but I have to let them contribute.

Niall starts strumming the guitar at a quick pace as I start to sing. My concept is about someone being infatuated with this untouchable confident girl that everybody doesn't believe is actually that way but putting up a facade except this one boy. The one the songs perspective is in.

"Hey, hey, hey. Oh, no, no, no. Her light is as loud as many ambulances. As it takes to save a saviour.", the imaginary girl I am singing about has this amazing confidence that is as out there and loud as a siren.

"Oh, whoa whoa whoa.", Liam sings in the background from where he sits on the couch between Louis and Zayn.

"She floats through the room on a big balloon.", this girl is always happy and having a good time, something a lot of people strive for but never achieve.

"Some say she's such a fake, that her love is made up. No, no, no, no.", I sing, some people think her happiness is all fake and that her love for the world and life is made up. They don't think someone could really be like that. But this one person doesn't, or rather hopes it's not. Because maybe they want to believe it's possible to truly be undeniably happy and content.