First Sight ⇨ Robsten

21. Breakeven

One night, in the hotel in which Robert was staying to promote his new movie, there was an open mic night. Juniors and seniors, all types of singers and comedians were going to participate. Robert was hesitant. He didn't know if he wanted to be a part of the program. Had he been ten years younger, he would have nailed his performance.

But those blissful years had gone on. Now he was in his early 30s and too famous. Not enough time to wind down with his guitar.

His ex-girlfriend was a singer. But they had never ever sat together, one night, to sing. He had done that with his first real love. All the time. They had bought a karaoke machine for their basement and would spend their free days learning songs. They had a whole repertoire of love songs, playlists for different moods. The moment someone entered the basement of the house Robert used to share with his first love, it was noticed how much of music lovers they had been.

Had been.

Robert didn't know how he felt about singing. Or playing music. Or even writing it. From the lack of time, he had forgotten the feeling of satisfaction when his fingers touched the keys of the piano. He had begun to play piano in grade school, never stopping.

The young singer left the stage, leaving the audience to wonder who was the next one. It was full of young people. No older souls. Rob wanted to leave, but he knew that he couldn't go back to his hotel room. Everything was better than crying it out under the fluffy blanket.

And when he was about to get up from his chair, deciding he didn't want to waste any more time in the stupid bar, when the next performer came on stage with a guitar in hand. The singer was so familiar, yet looked so different.

Kristen.

The last time Robert had seen her, she had much longer and darker hair. And was that a new tattoo on her left arm?

Kristen plugged in her guitar and set her microphone, feeling more than ready to perform. She hadn't sung with her guitar since she had filmed "The Runaways" - seven years ago.

"Hey, I'm Kristen," She greeted, smiling friendly at the audience. No one cheered. They didn't seem to enjoy her presence. But that was the good about her. She didn't care if they did. It was more important to her to enjoy herself whatever she was doing. She wasn't doing it for them. She was doing it for herself. That quality of hers had helped her win a million of hearts. Robert's was one of them.

Robert pricked his ears, wanting to know which song Kristen was going to perform. She had settled on Maddi Jane's cover of "Breakeven", originally sung by The Script. A song about a breakup. Robert should have guessed. She was singing about them. How broken she was.

Kristen was singing with such passion, hitting every note perfectly, like she had been tutored to do so. Had she been? Had she taken up singing? Robert had heard that she was writing music. It could have been that she was more serious about her ambitions to be more involved with music.

The second she strummed the last chord, the audience applauded. But there was no passion. It was like they were robots, mechanically doing so, just because she had sung her heart out. Heartless monsters. Robert couldn't help but get mad at people he barely knew.

Kristen smiled at the careless audience, thanking them and got off the stage, going who knew where. But that had been the last time Robert had seen her.

Because soon after that, Kristen Stewart was pronounced dead.