Remington
Remington: hey are you busy right now?
Austyn: not particularly
Austyn: y
Remington: just wondering if i'm ever meant to get my jacket back or if you sold it?
Austyn: i haven't yet but thx for the idea 😉
Remington: maybe i'll have to swing by and steal it before u get the chance
Read 12:45 pm
"Rem."
The smile was pulled off of my face when a balled up piece of paper hit me square in the forehead.
"What the fuck?" I scowled.
"Can you stop staring at your phone and pay the fuck attention so we can try to figure this out?" Sebastian groaned.
I rolled my eyes, but turned off my phone screen never the less. We still hadn't figured out the last song for our album, and I was honestly so close to just calling it and leaving it one song short.
"Can you just get my attention like a normal person and not a piece of shit?" I scoffed.
Everyone was on my ass. As if I was the only one in the band. As if I was the only one responsible for making content.
"To be fair. He did call your name probably a hundred times." Chelsea shrugged.
"Yeah," My older brother nodded in agreement, "just because you're caught up in texting your girlfriend doesn't mean we should have to sit around and wait for you to give a shit about your literal job."
"Ok Sebastian." Emerson said calmly trying to end the argument before it spiraled out of control.
Like that ever worked.
"What the fuck is your problem," I questioned angrily. He had been in a bad mood since we left the Starbucks the other day, and it was starting to get on my last fucking nerve, "seriously! Why are you acting like such a bitch?"
"Why are you treating your ass as a helmet," He retorted aggressively, "I mean how long have you known this girl, two weeks? You're already distracted."
"Will you shut the fuck up," I shouted, "it's literally nothing. We're not even together Sebastian just fucking leave it."
"Well then you leave it," He muttered. Why did he give a shit all of a sudden? He was nice enough to her the other day, "we have to finish this record. You haven't even sat to write in weeks."
"Well why the fuck is it my problem," I chuckled dryly in response. Sometimes it felt like they put it all on me, "since when was it my sole responsibility to write? You guys have always helped. I never even wanted to start this shit in the first place, and now you're gonna make everything my responsibility?"
That statement wasn't completely untrue. At first they dragged me into the whole idea of being a band but, obviously I fell in love with the idea of creating music. It was a safe space for me. An escape. So, the fact that that was all being taken away, and replaced by stress and stupid fucking deadlines -even momentarily- was irking the hell out of me. I felt like my safe space was under attack.
