Befallen

Chapter 1: Mellifluous

Mellifluous: a sound that is sweet and smooth, pleasing to hear.

I sit in frustration as I stare at the multiple monitors in front of me. This song has had me stumped for the better part of the day, and I have absolutely no idea what to do with it. It's supposed to be relieving my stress from the new album about to drop, but it seems to be doing a terrible job at that. I've tried rearranging the melodies, changing the synth tracks, even adjusting the tempo of the whole song itself. But it still doesn't sound quite right.

I tweak the backing drum track a bit in the chorus, making it a bit heavier before I start the track from the beginning, leaning back against the leather and closing my eyes in focus as I listen intently.

The track starts off slow, almost like a whisper of guitar echos before the drums come in softly. It has an almost metallic feel to it, even though it is supposed to be a synth pop track. After about half a minute I sigh and pause it. It sounds of a different era, but I can't quite seem to put my finger on it. 

As it is, it sounds great. But, great has never been enough for me. It has to be perfect. So, I lean forward to get back to work when a soft voice speaks behind me. 

"You should add whispers to the beginning of the track."

I jump in my seat as I swivel around, facing the intruder with wide eyes.

An all-too-familiar face leans against the doorway, seemingly comfortable in my space even though he's never once stepped foot in this studio. He's dressed comfortably, albeit stylish with a long sleeve white tee, baggy black cargo pants and black Timblerlands. His biceps flex which brings my attention to the rings that adorn his very tattooed fingers wrapped around his crossed arms. The ink swirls up and disappears into the rolled up sleeve of his shirt.

I can't help but wonder what he's doing here. In my six months of working here we've never run into each other, within reason. He's the golden boy of the company, part of one of the biggest bands in the world right now. The fact that he's leaning against my doorway is an improbable occurrence. I half convince myself that I'm imagining things. What reason would he have to be here when his personal studio is on the other side of the building. Even the practice rooms he frequents aren't anywhere close to here. 

I don't have time to think about the reasoning behind his presence as he stares at me back, peculiarity in his gaze. 

He clears his throat, which brings my attention back to his face. His hair is unstyled and wavy, almost covering his big doe eyes. Supple lips pulling into a smirk as he watches me admire him. His jawline is sharp and angular. I knew he was handsome, having seen enough pictures around the building and circulating the internet, but basking in it in person is a whole different level of beauty. He almost seems inhuman.

It feels like an eternity has passed in those few seconds.

I snap myself out of my trance as I reposition myself in my chair.

"What?" I can barely get my voice cooperate with me as I speak softly, the one syllable somehow stuck in my throat.

He chuckles softly, his head turning down toward the floor. His smile is radiant, and something in my chest flutters at the sight of it. 

Calm down, Y/N. Shut that shit down.

He raises his head once again as our eyes make contact. 

"I said, you should add whispers to the beginning of the track." He speaks a bit louder this time, although he already knows that the volume of his voice wasn't the reason I couldn't comprehend the words.