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I'm at Mae's house, trying to make time go by faster. She's one of the only people I'm close with. I grew up with her, and honestly, I still can't comprehend the fact that she's the little girl I used to play with all the time when I was younger. She changed a lot. Mae was known as the most feminine girl on our street, but god, she's unrecognizable now; it suits her.

"What's on your mind? This is the most you've been quiet in a while." Mae says this from the kitchen as I'm on the couch in the living room, taking up as much space as possible.

I shrug, forgetting that she can't see me. "I don't know." That is all I can say. It's true, and I'm not sure I can even mention the fact that there was a contract in the beginning. The now arrogant Y/N silenced in just an hour. Who knew that's what it would take?

"Oh yeah, like I believe that." Mae scoffs as she enters the living room with two bowls of mac and cheese. My eyes went wide for a moment; she made my favorite. Mae realized I wouldn't elaborate more and decided to change the subject. "So, how's that album going?"

"It's going great, actually. I've finally found some lyrics and a genre, something like jazz." The moment I say jazz, Mae hits me hard on the shoulder. I hate when she does that. How does she even have the strength to hit me that hard? Looks can be deceiving. "What's wrong with you? Is this my Y/N? Y/N I know you're in there; give me a sign." She begs. I had to chuckle and roll my eyes.

"I'm still the real Y/N; go fuck yourself, Mae." I squirm when she shakes me side to side, then take another bite of the mac n cheese. "This tastes good. New recipe?" The movie playing on her TV was long forgotten as we found ourselves in a rabbit hole of many other endless conversations.

Eventually, sleep had gotten the best of us, and before I knew it, I'd woken up to a disgusting Mae drooling while we hugged each other. Immediately, I leaped out of her touch and showered. This is the first time in a long time I've woken up early, but with the album and lyrics in mind, I couldn't wait any longer.

I'm at home, setting up my studio. Now that I've gotten a break at Mae's, I feel like a new person. Notes fill my head like a flood—so many good riffs and licks I couldn't ignore. A certain image replaying in my head keeps me motivated. I mean, how could it not? Something about her bleeds perfection. In a way, you could say she was my muse. I've already wasted a couple of months until the deadline. Oh shit, I can already see the headlines. Y/N, an alternative artist, is now releasing a jazz album. Funny.

With everything set up, I contemplate how I should start. A million thoughts are running through my head, so I take my notebook and read back from yesterday, her face lulling me into a trance. Yesterday's surge of inspiration hit me harder as I replayed what happened. Within no time, I'd gotten three songs written down, with nearly all the melodies written next to them. It's like there's magic in the air I'm breathing. I didn't even think it was possible to write three songs in under an hour. What is she doing to me? I scoff at the thought; my mood is better than ever.

Joyfully, I create the vocals and the instrumental and take samples from what I'd done earlier to change them to be more fitting to what I'm feeling now. It takes me three hours to complete one fraction of a song, but I couldn't be happier. Though, with all that singing, all that guitar playing (which was even harder because I only have rock guitars) had me thirsty and tired. What better way to celebrate than to go to my brother's and break the news to him?

Quickly, I save everything to my laptop and leave home. And not long after, I reach Taco Bell and proudly go to the drive-through. I don't need any fans bombarding me right now; it's the least of my worries. Once I received my and Sean's regular, I handed over a hundred-dollar bill and drove off. The drive was faster than usual when I arrived, even with the stop at Taco Bell. I mean, driving a little bit over the speed limit couldn't hurt. Especially since I'd been waiting for a moment like this forever. Fucking writer's block is the worst.

That redwood door greeted me again for the hundredth time—definitely more. I thought it would be so easy to pull the handle—I mean, the number of times I'd disturbed an ongoing meeting by just barging in. It was the easiest thing to do before yesterday, yet now I find myself hesitating when I haven't even touched the handle yet. Should I knock? Wait, me knocking? I sound crazy. So I decided to not overthink and barge in once again.

"Perfect timing, Y/N," Sean states in an instant; it was like he already knew I was standing outside. Unfortunately, we were three in one room—I, Sean, and Anne. Anne? Why is she here? I rolled my eyes as a surge of disgust engulfed me. Anne seems to feel the same. She finds the best ways to interrupt us. "I got Taco Bell."

My hand held onto the sensitive material that Taco Bell tells us is 'recycled' plastic, and when I lifted it, the handle stretched as a cheap plastic bag would. It scared the shit out of me because the last thing I wanted at this exact moment was for this beautiful burrito to miss a chance at touring the deep depths of my hungry tummy. "There's no time; we have to go."

"Go where? Sean I need to talk to you," I say, looking at Anne, then back at him as he stands behind his desk, "alone." This should have been the clearest sign of 'get out of the room' but I didn't notice Hathaway had some problems with understanding basic English. "You heard me, miss, alone," I say again in a more questioning way. She, though, looks ready as ever to leave—surprisingly, she doesn't.

"Oh, I would love to, but I'm afraid I can't," Hathaway says in return, her bitter tone not going unnoticed as the fact that what she said was true tortured her deeply. This was the first time we talked since yesterday, and I'm afraid I can tell this contract will be the longest and most boring point of my life." Don't make this any harder, Hathaway." I let out a small laugh, making myself seem firmer, but the fact she's a CEO means I know she's been through similar encounters as this. I don't think this intimidated her at all.

"Y/N, we're going to Italy. I was going to call you." Sean finally speaks, breaking the awkward silence I and Hathaway shared. The Taco Bell was numbing my hand from the weight, as it should've been on the desk being eaten by now, but I'm afraid it does have to wait. Hathaway and Sean look at me expectantly, sort of hoping for a reaction to get over with, but I do nothing. "What do you mean we're going to Italy?" I breathe out, my head heating up from the anger. Most of it came from the fact that they were both against me. "We leave in two hours, so pack your bags."

I look at Sean in shock. Does he think I'm going to go to Italy? First of all, it hadn't even been a day since I signed that contract, and now we're going to travel the world without a second thought for that album I'd been dying to start for, like, four months now. The last time I wrote a sentence before yesterday was about two months ago, so you'd understand how important it is for me to be near my producer or my equipment. And I hate renting studios. I don't know; it just doesn't feel good and too much of a hassle.

"And you think I'm going?" At this point, I feel like laughing at how absurd this was. There's no way in hell I'm going. I'm not leaving all this behind. Sean starts to speak, "Y/N, you're going. I'm pretty sure you don't have any other option but to go." My brother seemed to expect my behaviour, though, so he wasn't having a hard time arguing with me. "Okay, well, I'm pretty sure I do have the option of not going. And I'm not leaving the room for the next two hours, so have fun."

Hathaway finally speaks; after nearly a century of waiting for her input, I've already gotten bored with what she has to say. She hasn't even spoken yet. Wow, Hathaway's easy to dislike. "Okay, Y/N. I'm pretty sure the contract you signed yesterday said so. Pack your ba-" Her tone was dismissive, eager to get this over with and head on to Italy. Whose idea was this anyway? I snap at her before she can continue. "Shut up, Hathaway."

Her eyes widen in shock. I bet no one has ever had the guts to say that to her, but I'm not scared of her. Possibly at all. God, I'm just wasting my time. Then again, this is all worth the hassle of arguing as I get to witness that anger building up on her face. It's... alluring, I guess. I like seeing Hathaway mad; it's kind of a reminder of how I have that power over her. She approaches me like she expects me to piss my pants or something of the sort.

"What did you just say?" Hathaway spits out angrily, the smoke already steaming out of her ears at such a fast pace that it's hard to not get scared for just a second. But that doesn't affect my stance or my stubbornness."I said," I smiled and spat out, "Shut. Up. Hatha-"

WHAM!

My face goes numb, and my neck nearly breaks at the force of that slap Anne had taken such pride in. Her face was hard and unbreakable, but I knew she enjoyed this more than anything in the world. My cheek started to feel the pain; at this point, I could feel my face and my cheek beating hard at the rhythm of my heart. This could incite a bruise. No, this could incite an earthquake. Shit, she was strong.

My face still turned from the force of that hit, and I started to face Anne while holding my cheek. Sean, well, Sean was Sean. He didn't do anything; he even looked at us like he expected it. Her expression was still the same, and I could still see a hint of happiness. She was extremely happy that she got to slap me hard across the face and enjoyed it a lot. Was what I read from her light brown eyes shining from Sean's office light, illuminating us. Hathaway's jaw was clenched, already ready to slap the other side of my face so I'd have a matching pair. But all that would be for nothing if she wasn't giving me that look again. Looking at a lowlife, which she thinks is me. It's inciting a quick urge for confidence, which I certainly need with what I'm going to do next.

"The fuck is your problem?" I get ready to punch Hathaway, but Sean teleports to me out of nowhere and stops anything from happening again. My brother, out of all people, should know that whatever he's doing now is not helping. My brother, out of all people, should know that what he just did sabotage our strange bond of trust for, I assume, with how angry I'm feeling, a long time. I start to cry internally at the thought of not punching her, but I contain all my emotions for now.

My hands wiggle out of my brother's grip, and I scoff, roll my eyes, and leave the room, already having enough of both of them. I don't leave without taking the Taco Bell with me; I'm eating this all by myself.

I know I said I wouldn't leave the room for the next two hours, but I just couldn't bear the both of them for another minute, unfortunately letting them win for now. I just want to know why the fuck did my fucking brother out of everyone not defend me? He knows so well that sudden changes like this don't match mine. Never will. I'm hurt, and I don't know if I'll be able to talk to Sean for the rest of Italy.

An hour passes by, and it pains me to admit I've just finished packing my bags. Sean didn't mention how long we'd be in Italy, and I didn't care to ask, so I packed enough for a month or two. Maybe I was overreacting, but I don't care; I don't care at all. If he's going to be like that, letting Anne stay in the room when I've got something to say, letting her slap me, then stopping me from defending myself, Fuck that.

I do admit that when I left the room, I spent five minutes outside Sean's office, looking like a stupid dumb idiotic maniac, then sort of stomped my way to the elevator. Why do you ask? Next question. Once I saw my car after leaving the lobby, I realized how big of a thing this is for everything. I wouldn't be seeing any of my friends for what seems like a long time; if I even have many. It'll only be the three of us together for a crazy six months, possibly more. It's no wonder Sean doesn't have many friends. How could he? I needed a smoke.

My GT-R Nismo taunts me as it flashes its lights, indicating it's on. It laughs as I pull the door open, but I don't drive again. I just sit there and light a cigarette. The air darkens as all the toxins from the cigarette leave my lungs, but my lungs don't care and practically beg for more, so I give in. I stay like this for thirty minutes until I start to drive. The drive was relaxing; there was no discussion about that. So I forgave Nismo for bullying me and reached home thirty minutes later than I was supposed to.

Now, I sit still, pondering what I should do next. Should I call Mae and tell her I'm leaving? We could eat the Taco Bell together, but I have to heat it again, and you know how fast food works. If the food gets cold, it doesn't taste the same. I'll call Mae.

The phone rings, teasing me. What's with everyone mocking me anyway? As if the people on Twitter using my old videos as memes weren't enough. My digital footprint goes crazy. Eventually, Mae answers. "Hey, Y/N, where were you?"

Oh shit, I forgot to tell Mae where I was going; she's going to get upset. My mind starts to drift off to the fact that I'm leaving the country in a few hours, not even an hour. I'd have to devise an excuse for why I'm leaving so suddenly." Well uh... You know my album's going to be jazz, right? Yeah. I decided to have a tour around Italy for inspiration, I guess. I'm leaving in less than an hour." You and I both know that's a lie, but I am sort of excited about Italy. I've always liked its aura.

"Y/N! You should've said, I'm outside the cinema, and I don't want to miss more of the movie." Mae grunted as she was worried sick about how I'd just disappeared so suddenly. She should know better by now; I've done this dozens of times already. "Okay. Enjoy your movie." I smiled to myself, but it'd felt melancholic from the fact that Mae was enjoying herself at the cinema without me. I needed to share some Taco Bell right now. "Enjoy Italy, Y/N." I can hear her laughing at the other end before hanging up. Taco Bell shall wait.

At least Mae has gotten closure, and she knows I'm okay, though I don't understand why she's so protective of me when it comes to leaving. Maybe it's just her personality; nevertheless, I appreciate it.

One minute until the plane starts boarding, and my phone had more than 29 missed calls, which I assumed were from my brother, but I just called my Uber. I still haven't accepted the fact I'm going to Italy, which explains the delay, and I won't be arriving until 15 minutes. Whatever, the plane will wait because I'm famous enough for them to do so, and so are Sean and Anne. There should be no problem at all.

I was right. Unfortunately, I'd arrived minutes before takeoff, which I'd like to call a curse rather than a miracle. I'm sure my brother would disagree. My LV suitcase wouldn't stop crackling as it passed through everyone in the economy, serving as a subtle but harsh reminder of how my validity made their flight get delayed by thirty minutes. Oh, and that I was going to first class. They all had their cameras up my ass, so I guess we're equal.

Finally, I'd made my way through the crowd. They should add an extra entrance for first-class riders, but it's whatever. I'm reminded that that should be the least of my worries, as I'm met with a hint of dark brown hair and jet black peeking over the first-class seats. I sit in front of them without a warning. "You're late," Hathaway says. No doubt she was still feeling giddy about that slap from earlier because she said this as if she had some sort of control over me. But, since I am responsible, I fight the urge to reply to her and instead grab a cigarette. I was still so mad at myself for letting that happen, and I was mad at Sean because he didn't defend me like he usually would. To make things better, not even two seconds since I took my cigarette out, I'm stopped. "Sorry, ma'am, smoking is prohibited." A flight attendant smiles at me. I wanted to punch that smile right off.

Good thing I brought my Taco Bell with me. "Oh, before you leave, could you warm this up for me, please?" I smile sarcastically. Sorry, it's just that being in the presence of a try-hard and a backstabber is messing with the chemicals in my brain. The flight attendant smiles before leaving. I'm crashing this fucking flight.