𝑨 𝑺𝒊𝒎𝒑𝒍𝒆 𝑺𝒐𝒏𝒈 // 𝐉𝐨𝐡𝐧𝐧𝐲 𝐗 𝐌𝐮𝐭𝐞 𝐑𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

𝑩𝒂𝒄𝒌𝒔𝒕𝒐𝒓𝒚

𝐇𝐚𝐯𝐞 𝐟𝐮𝐧, 𝐞𝐧𝐣𝐨𝐲 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝, 𝐩𝐨𝐢𝐧𝐭 𝐨𝐮𝐭 𝐚𝐧𝐲 𝐦𝐢𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐤𝐞𝐬 𝐢𝐧 𝐦𝐲 𝐠𝐫𝐚𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫 𝐨𝐫 𝐩𝐮𝐧𝐜𝐭𝐮𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧.

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A little boy and girl sat on the curb of a slow road, they couldn't be any older than 7.

"I'm so sad I'm leaving. I promise I'll come back and visit one day, okay?" The girl looked just about ready to shed a few tears, as did the boy.

"Do you have to go?" His brows furrowed and his lip quivered.

"Yeah... But, I won't be gone for a long time." The girl wandered into her own thoughts for a moment, gasping subtly, "here, I want you to keep this."

The girl took off a bracelet that matched the other on her wrist, "when I come back it'll be easier to find you."

The boy faintly blushed, "wow, really?"

"Mhm!"

"(N/N), come on. We'll be late." The girl's mother called from the other side of the street.

"One more minute, Ma, I promise!" The girl looked back, placing a peck on the boy's cheek before crossing the empty road. The boy could do nothing but stare in astonishment as he brushed his hand over his cheek.

"Aw, man. Who will I hang out with, now?" Little Johnny stood up, stuffing his hand in his hoodie pocket, holding up the bracelet in his other.

A smile graced his lips and his slid it on, "I won't forget you, so don't forget me."

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Sorry if that was cringe.
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That same girl, now 15, stood behind curtains with her mic attached, ready to kick off an amazing show.

"Okay, don't be nervous. Shake the stupid jitters and wow your fans- they're here to see you, not your failure." (Y/N) fiddled with her bracelet.

Inhale, exhale.

"Whoo! Let's go." She took a ready step, abruptly stopping when a shriek was heard from behind her. Screams and gasps erupted the crowd, rumbling thuds could be felt through the ground as people desperately pushed and shoved to get out.

Her breathing picked up as she swiftly turned around to see security being overrun by a group of buff adults in orange jumpsuits and horrifying Halloween masks, holding weapons.

"Wh-what...? I don't--" before she could even comprehend the situation, a cold, metal pressure whacked the side of her head. She went down with a thud. Her vision started to blur, from tears and lack of conscious. Blood trickled down the side of her face.

"This her?" A woman's voice grunted.

"You bet."

"Alright."

The masked woman made eye contact with the girl, a pleading look in the young one's eyes. With a shrug, the woman kicked the side of her throat.

"Agh!" A bloody cough came out, she then slipped away.

"Police! Put your hands in the air..."

...

A failure.

...

When she woke up, she was in the hospital.

"What do you mean she won't speak!? She needs her voice!" Her aging mother shouted.

"Ma'am, her larynx was damaged severely at the riot, we can't do anything right now--" the doctor tried to reason.

The girl fluttered her eyes open, feeling like something was holding her back.

"Oh, she's awake. Speak, (Y/N)." Her mother held her hands.

"Uh... Ma'am, she won't be able to speak for at least a year, especially without a speech-language pathologist. She'll need to go under extensive therapy for her mental health, too." The doctor informed.

"Ugh, great! Now what? We can't get one of your little dance friends to cover for you, their voices are pale in comparison. Oh," Nancy clicked her tongue, "what am I to do?"

She furiously sat down in the waiting chair.

The doctor and (Y/N) shared a look. His eyes showed that of sympathy, as her's showed that of heartbreak and disappointment. The doctor left the room to give privacy to the grieving pair.

The disappointment wasn't shot towards the doctor, but at herself.

"There must've been something I could've done." Tears built up in her eyes, slowly falling over like a waterfall.

"Oh, geez. C'mon, you, don't do that." The mother rudely begged. Nancy thought over her actions and words, solemnly regretting every one.

She embraced her daughter, "I'm so sorry, dear. It'll be okay. Forget the singing and dancing, just relax. I'll see to it that you're properly taken care of and..." She lost herself in thought.

With a gasp, she held her daughter's shoulders, "the doctor mentioned something about a speech-language pathologist. Now, I don't know what that is, but it sounds helpful. Well, not right now, you still need time to heal. I'll call up a therapist, probably Jenna, and you can inform her about everything that you feel is off..."

The words just drowned out into oblivion as (Y/N) stared, nodding every now and then. There was no more doing what she loved. For a moment, her mother's actions caused a flash of flaming hatred for music. Though, her apology made up for that.

"I can't do what I love... I can still dance, but no more singing. Playing the guitar, piano, drums, sure. But, singing was... It was my light..."

"Buster Moon... Johnny... I wonder if I can land a job with Moon. Maybe I can catch up with Johnny, too.

If he hasn't moved."

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