The Next Chapter

01. Real World

Warren

It was the first day of work application and I took the path I've always been passionate about; music. It was no surprise to my mum this was my occupation indulgence. I've been around music as early as I can remember. I plan to do music for a living but not exactly to be in the spotlight. I'd much rather sell my music to artists and see where it carries on from then.

"You ready?" Bryan insists.

"Yeah," I replied and we walked out of the Audi.

We were both planning to apply for the same record company. I do the music whilst he does the art. Who knew Bryan was in to art? He was suppose to take a physical activist for his college application but he bailed out after a week through the classes. He says it was more of the scientifict side of the physical activity than the productive part of physical activity. We both moved into the penthouse half way through college and he saw how blunt the penthouse looked. So he painted on canvases and put them around the penthouse and good lord did it look marvellous.

We approached the front desk of the record company called Deceiving. Out of all names, how fatigued the customers may seem to of the company. I'm surprise it made it far.

"Good Morning, we've got an appointment for the job openings at 11:00 am today?" Bryan explains and the front desk stumbled through notes after notes for a while.

"Ahh yes, Mr. Warren Davies for writers and Mr. Bryan Stevens for design?" She insists and we both nod our heads. "Welcome, design is this way, 4th floor," She points to a hallway at the side of the lobby. "Writers are this way 2nd floor," She points to another hallway across the lobby. "Good luck,"

"Thank you," Me and Bryan said at the same time before grabbing our walk-in IDs.

He hugged me tightly and his warmth were so comfy I just wanted to drift asleep. But I wouldn't because that would be fucking weird. He gave me rough peck and straighted my coat one last time.

"Good luck babe, you'll do good," He assures.

"You too, you will," I replied and we parted our own ways.

I fixed my tie as I went into the elevators. There has gotta be at leat 80 floors on this tbuilding with the numerous elevator buttons. The elevators opened and I walked swith my head held high and walked right into the walk-in office.

"Walk-ins!" A lady in a pencil skirt calls out leading a group of people.

I hurried over to the group and pretended that I wasn't late or anything. She lead us to this auditorium where an anoyingly stunning man await. I shouldn't even see something in him, fuck's sake I've been with Bryan for four years straight and I've never seen any man or woman attractive beside him.

"Well hello newbies," He says in a fucking deep voice that could melt anyone unintentionally. "I don't expect a response unless I ask you a question," He says firmly. First impression; hot douchebag.

"Let's start with," He scans us before his finger landed towards my direction. Goddamit. "You,"

I stepped forward putting on my "you don't have power over me you sexy beast" face. "Name's Warren Davies, sir." I chided.

He cross his arms, leaned his back on the table and his piercing blue eyes glarred at me until the left side of his lip twitch. Hot damn did he smirk. "Warren, tell me about how music affects your life," He grimaced.

"You might need a tissue unless you're cold hearted. Now you see in high school, I was suicidal as fuck to a point that I didn't know what to feel so I proceeded in self harm. I've been so lonely until I discovered music more, it distracted me from my self harm and suicidal toughts and reminded me that I'll be okay." I said in confidence. How far I've came with my mental healt. Gimme some lvoe for that folks.

"Ahh I see, so are you going to be writing some suicidal shit for my company?" He asks.

"I believe in less descriptive careers that won't necessarily affect nor include my fucked up life, or pass-fucked up life." I implied.

"So tell me, why should I take you as a music writer then?" He insists.

"I'm felixible in music you see, I can listen and poduce music from classic to metal and every other type of music in between. And good lord can I write deep things," I explained.

"But you insist of a career that doesn't include your so called 'pass-fucked up life'. How can you write deep things newbie?" He coaxs.

"Sir I think you don't understand the fact that we live in the present, not in the pass nor future. As far as I'm aware, the pass isn't happening during this moment. Writing deep things doesn't course to depression or mental health, it can be about an aquaintance with the love of your life. And how devoted you are for love," I offered. That seemed to shut him up.

"Very well Mr. Davies, cocky and explanatory, I'll be sending an email to what I want to do with you." He vowed.

"Thanks," I winked.

Note:

And boom the sequel is up!! I'm still a bit naïve with the story board so I might use sex scenes as a filler for the incomplete story baord. XP