Sage

43

29 weeks.

Harry.

"The synthesizer is too strong, can we switch the waveform?"

Gale methodically moves his fingers across the engineering board to adjust the sound while I patiently watch.

He plays the clip of the track back when he's done, looking up at me with raised brows. I mindlessly pinch my lower lip between my thumb and index finger as I flit my eyes over the small monitor displaying colorful track sequences, trying to figure out what needs to be adjusted. I don't know what it is, but it's something.

"Well, we don't have to use this take, it's mainly for fun. I'm thinking if we chop it up and..." Gale double clicks one of the soundwaves and adjusts it accordingly as he trails off, "If I nudge these verses, blend them together, and up the adlibs, you won't even hear the synthesizer."

I nod along to his words, my hand gripping the back of his leather seat as I reached over and pointed at the screen. He's onto something.

"Amplify this bit, too,"

Gale does as told before moving the cursor back to the beginning and playing the track over again.

My face breaks out into a grin at the sound. Gale is many things and a damn good musical engineer is one of them.

This was one of our smaller projects being that it was a single for an upcoming artist whose name I forgot. Nevertheless, I tried to put my all into everything I did. This is why it was currently six am and instead of being home in bed cuddled up to Ellie (where I really wanted to be), I found myself awake before the sun and running on half a cup of coffee as Gale and I worked.

I grab my coffee from the small table at the thought of it and take a small sip, trying not to focus on the fact that it's lukewarm.

"We're fucking geniuses," Gale leans back in the leather seat. It bobs underneath him and I'm surprised he doesn't fall out of it and burst his ass.

"I am a bit of a genius aren't I?" I smirk as I set the cup back down. Gale rolls his eyes before yawning.

"Fuck, man," He blinks harshly to wake himself up, "Tell me I'm getting a bonus for being here at the ass crack of dawn,"

I scoff, "The fuck you are,"

"You are the worst boss ever, you know that don't you?"

"I've had no complaints until today," I mindlessly crack my knuckles before fishing in the mini-fridge for something to eat. Recently, I've been coming in at five and not leaving until damn near seven. A lot of the time it meant I'd forgotten to eat.

And it's not like I was so consumed with work, because I wasn't. I always did a fairly good job at managing my load, but the fact that I'd been working on a much larger project that I essentially wasn't getting paid for was to blame for my restless nights.

"How's the baby coming along?" Gale asks as if reading my thoughts.

He'd seen firsthand how invested I was in the secret project that I would tell him nothing about. And according to him, I treated it like my baby; hence the name. I knew that when he asked about the actual baby I had on the way, he'd ask- "How's Bartholomew?"

One of the main reasons this project was taking so long was because it was entirely me. I was producing it, using my vocals, and writing the music. I wanted it perfect before releasing it (If I would even do that) and that meant nobody could see it. Not even Gale, who was still trying to help me find a vocalist to put on the track for a few adlibs.