EVANESCENCE

CHAPTER 15|Song writing

LUKE

Today was f*****g tiring and I just want to sleep. We rehearsed this afternoon on our new set list then proceeded to Rockyard Lounge to perform again and gladly the people there really like us. Mr. Vaughan, the record label representative was there still showing the same interest he gave when he first watched us. They were only waiting for our complete demos and it will soon become our gate pass to perform for the band Pink Salt as the front act. I just wanted to sleep, but I have to send my song two days from now but I haven't written anything yet. I gently closed the door, seeing Stacy whose hair was tied in a loose bun, wearing a baggy shirt while facing the patio window. Her back appeared rigid but relaxed enough to hold the fiddle on the side of her neck, her chin resting on the pad. Her right arm was still but her forearm moved, the bow softly biting and gliding the strings producing a sound that was weeping and longing enough to catch anyone's heart. I didn't know what piece she was playing- I was never this knowledgeable much about classical music but one thing I know for sure, it is one hell of an amazing piece. Stacy had always been this different, her music genre always made me deem her as someone who fancies expensive dates, who only thinks of deep thoughts but she wasn't. She is as crazy as us. She grew up with brothers who were raised with heavy metal music who were into music technology and bands too but she stood up as a person that is unique and can drive with all types of music nevertheless.

It took her a while before she noticed me. She turned her heel letting go of the fiddle, almost sheepishly. She placed it back to the case, together with her bow and putting a cap on the rosin. I must’ve perturbed her alone time.

"Why did you stop?" I asked nonchalantly, she remained on her tracks partially covering the view from the window. She scratched the nape of her neck and held the handle on her tiny hand. "Got tired, been playing my favourite pieces for like an hour." She said as she left, and proceeded in our bedroom.

I was assuming that she would start a conversation with me but she didn't and it was alright even when portion of me was waiting for her to ask me about something. I checked my phone, still no messages from Christen and it's alright too although I miss her. I'll surely make it up to her as soon as the two of us will finally get loose schedules. I have so much respect for her work and the way she prepares for the admission test for her scholarship application. However, I made myself some coffee hoping the caffeine would sweep the drowsiness I feel. It somewhat did it's job but I can still doze off. I started strumming a random chord progression, plucking, applying different dynamics as I hummed a tune. Nothing gave me melody that would be worth the listen. I ended up singing a few songs and it really did soothe me out. Stacy was there, again suddenly leaning by the doorframe of our bedroom. It made me pause, but it didn't mean anything at all.

"Can't sleep," she said, her arms crossed. "Can't write," I pulled off a soft laugh to ease out the crease on our situation right now. "Wanna talk about it?" She casually asked as if she didn't tell me she loves me the previous night. She sat on the couch a little bit farther from me, almost unaffected. I wanted to read her, but I couldn't see through.

"What are you writing about?" She looked at the small notebook on the coffee table which was still blank at the moment. I still prefer to scribble on a physical object rather than type it on my own. "A song, for our demo."

"Oh, Calum has told me that, what seems to be the problem? You haven't written anything yet." She chatted. "Writer's block feels like forever." I used to write songs about her and make it hear them before but it's long forgotten and it won't make sense to reuse when I can do better. But, I wonder if she remembers them right now.

"I want to write for her," I said, she removed her glare on me. "Then start scribbling your random thoughts about her?" and so I did. She lingered on the couch and scrolled through her phone. It almost felt like I'm forcing things to come out and the idea isn't compelling at all. I paused after attempting a few lines. She suddenly took the paper— something that could've given rise to my protest but i shrugged it off. I'm so tired. "It's s**t, give it back." I told her but I hardly made any efforts. I already feel like dissolving further on the couch.

She held back her laugh, "Your smiles are like flowers, you are a breath of fresh air,"

"Okay," She pursed her lips, nodding "Like cold water replenishing on a hot summer day."

"Seriously?" She laughed as I rolled my eyes. "Bullying me won’t help me at all,"

"I am not bullying you." She said in defense throwing my small notepad back to me. "Yes you are bullying me just because you are a better musician than me,"

"Okay, want to hear something real here? I am just as good as you. Or even better. I just don't get it how you guys consider the orchestra type of person as the superior among all music genre."

"You can read music notes, That's it. " I said, pressing my idea on her. "But I'm not bullying you Luke, I just know you can do better than this. "

"I haven't written anything for a long time. " I confessed and began to strum a random tune. "What kind of sound do you want to achieve, anyway?"

"The type to make you fall in love?" I said, almost unsure "what's your definition of falling in love?" She asked, almost teasing me. Her glare, piercing. I realized the entirety of Christen is not making me answer, but I wanted to respond.

"The feeling of... Being torn between wanting to sleep and staying awake,"

Her rigidness melted. "What do you mean?" She knew what I meant, but she wanted to hear nonetheless.

"Like, you want to sleep because you're too pumped up for the next day and see what it brings you, you know... Or you just want to stay awake for you to see everything and not miss a single thing." that's what I felt about Stacy not until my feelings just died.

"She makes you feel that way, doesn’t she?" Her voice came out softer but she kept her face radiant, trying to be all too happy for me. "She..."

"It's different, more than the way you think. Christen suits the reality,"

"Yeah, it’s different more than the way I think." She repeated. "Good night, Luke. Just write what you feel, " She left the couch and went back again to the bedroom but this time she gently closed the door. I thought she would stay here until I figure out how to pull this out, but she didn't. I couldn't decipher what I truly feel and I badly want to sort it out, so I wrote what I feel.