“And then I realized it wasn’t just the music. I did the same thing with my family. I didn’t just stop talking to my dad. I shut everyone out. All because I couldn’t let go of one argument.” I exhaled slowly. “Getting to know you made me realize I don’t want to make choices based on things that went wrong in the past. I want to make choices that actually make me happy. And being here with you, making music, and talking about recording an album is what makes me happy.”
I lifted my head slightly.
“Sure, maybe things go wrong. Maybe people won’t like the music. Maybe my parents will yell at me if they find out. But so what? The first time I tried this, I thought I’d be a superstar by now, and look how that turned out.” I huffed a quiet laugh. “But this time, I know I’ll at least enjoy it. I already do, because I get to spend time with you.”
I squeezed his hand.
“So yeah, if you want to make an album and put it out, I’m in.”
He squeezed my hand back and gifted me a smile. “That was beautiful, you know?”
“Because it’s the truth.”
His smile widened. “I really want to make an album with you.”
“Then let’s do this,” I said, sitting up. “Four more songs. Should be easy for us.”
We kissed hard after that, but instead of fucking again, we actually went back to work. We went through all his ideas, sketches, and demos. He had so many that he let me decide which ones should make the album. Otherwise, he’d pick all of them.
By the end of the day, I had selected two more, bringing the total to eight—the three we had worked on when I was in Vegas, the three we had improved from sketches he had shown me theday before, one we improvised that morning, and one Alex had written the day before I arrived.
The songs ranged from fast pop tracks to quiet ballads, but they fit together beautifully. He used a lot of similar synths, and every song he had shown me so far—as different as they were in tempo, tonality, and mood—clearly carried his artistic signature.
It became a bit more challenging with the last two songs, though, since we agreed they needed to fill specific gaps that none of his existing tracks covered.
We decided to just write two more, but the moment we set that goal, we hit a wall. We worked through the evening without a breakthrough, and the next morning’s session didn’t go any better.
“How hard can it be?” I complained, setting Alex’s guitar down a little too roughly against the wall. “We’re only missing two songs!”
“I guess two more would be perfect to make it a full album.” Alex skimmed the song titles in his notebook with his index finger, as if he could hear them just by touching the words. “One should definitely go betweenPoint BlankandFor The Love Of You.And one at the end. I loveYour Voice,but I’m not sure it’s a good song to end a playlist with.”
I leaned my head against his, looking at the list, too. “It’s too slow. I agree.”
“Let me…” He flipped through the pages of his filled notebook, quickly scanning scribbles of lyrics. A couple of heavy breaths brushed my fingers. “No.” He let the notebook rest on his lap and leaned forward toward his laptop. He scrolled through folders of demos that could fill at least ten albums, his eyes narrowing with each scroll. “I don’t know. You’ve heard all of the good ones.” He sighed and let go of the trackpad. “I guess the ones we’re missing truly haven’t been written yet.”
“Then we’re doomed. Are you sure you don’t have anything hidden away?”
His eyes circled around me, and only after looking everywhere else did they finally land on me. “I’m not sure I should confess this to you.”
“Confess what?”
“All the songs you’ve picked…” His cheeks flushed. “All but one were songs I wroteafterI met you. As in… they were allinspiredby you.”
A grin spread across my face. “So I’m your muse?”
“If that’s what you want to call it.” He side-eyed me, scrunching his nose. “For all these songs, I had your voice in my head, and I let it guide me. Before that, it was just my own ugly voice in my head, but from the moment I heard you hum, things changed. Writing songs got so much easier.”
“Looks like meeting each other had an impact on both of us.”
“What do you mean?”
“Oh, never mind.” I nodded at the notebook. “Let’s focus. If you say that working with my voice made it easier for you to write new songs, then this shouldn’t be too hard. How do you usually do it? Write a song?”
Alex flipped through the notebook again. “It’s hard to describe. I mostly get inspired by real-life stuff. Often, it’s small, seemingly insignificant experiences. They just happen, and whenever they do, I make a quick sketch on my phone and come back to it later.” His jaw clenched. “I usually have so many ideas that I can’t even keep up with them.”
“So what do you do when you feel empty?”
“I… do something else. Break the routine to get some new inspiration. Go for a walk or something.”
