Dreams Can Come True

22. Meeting

Arriving at the studio, Tom and I were immediately greeted by Georg, who remarked with a slight grin, "Ah, the twins are finally coming to the studio." His eyes twinkled, and I could detect a hint of curiosity in his gaze.
Stef, who had clearly been waiting for us for a while, rolled his eyes and sighed lightly. Tom, as nonchalant as ever, replied, "Oh, we're only about 10 minutes late at most." Stef responded sharply, "An hour and 10 minutes, actually..." He could barely conceal his irritation.
As we walked further into the studio, I took the time to gauge the atmosphere. Tension hung palpably in the air, but I hoped that my cheerful question to Georg about his date would bring some levity to the space.
"And, Georg, how was your date?" I asked with a genuine smile. I was determined to prevent the irritations between Stef, Tom, and me from taking over.
Georg started enthusiastically telling about his evening, but before he could really get into it, he was interrupted by Stef. "Guys, no time for this coffee chat," Stef said sternly. "You have a meeting about the costumes of the show in an hour, and I want to go over the song 'Alien.' So, let's get to work!" Stef, always focused on work, wasted no time.
Gustav, who didn't seem particularly interested in the meeting, sighed loudly and sarcastically remarked, "Can't I just wear a T-shirt?" On the contrary, I couldn't contain my excitement. "Oh, Gustav, you have no idea how amazing it's going to be! I already have so many ideas in my head," I exclaimed enthusiastically. Costumes were totally my thing, and I made that clear. Being creative with fashion was an outlet for me, a way to express my personality and style.

Stef took the lead, his face stern and purposeful. "Alright, guys, let's get to work right away. We have an hour to go over the song 'Alien,' so let's work efficiently." His words were infused with a professional determination that emphasized the seriousness of the upcoming rehearsal.
The studio was filled with the characteristic sounds of guitars being tuned and drumsticks tapping against each other. I took my position behind the microphone, my fingers itching to touch the first notes of "Alien."
Tom stood next to me, his guitar already strapped on. Gustav sat behind his drum set, Georg grabbed his bass guitar, and we all looked to Stef, waiting for the cue. The moment of creation had arrived.
"Okay, guys, let's start," Stef said authoritatively. His hand swept through the air, and the first chords filled the space. The magic of live music began to unfold, the melody of "Alien" slowly taking shape.
Gustav started with a soft beat, setting the tone for the song. Tom and Georg gradually joined in, their guitars melding into a harmonious symphony. I closed my eyes and felt the music penetrate my body, my voice blending with the instruments.
Stef kept a sharp eye on everything, his gaze shifting from one band member to another. He was a conductor of creativity, ensuring that every element fell perfectly into place. His instructions were precise, his gaze critical but fair.
After a few measures, Stef interrupted us, his hand raised as a signal to stop. "Alright, guys, that was a good start. But let's delve deeper into this part. Bill, try to put more emotion into the lyrics. Tom, make sure your guitar riffs are sharp and dynamic. Gustav, keep holding the beat. And Georg, watch the timing of your bassline. Let's try it again."

After an intensive rehearsal of "Alien," we were abruptly reminded of reality by a knock on the door. The stylist was impatiently waiting, her face slightly contorted from waiting.
Stef glanced at his watch and let out a slight sigh. "Okay, guys, let's wrap up this musical session and move on to the next item on the agenda: the costume meeting."
We moved to another room where a team of stylists awaited us with sketches and fabric samples spread across the table. I took my seat with a burning passion for the creative process, but I noticed that the rest of the band was less enthusiastic.
My eyes scanned the sketches and fabrics, my mind overwhelmed by ideas and suggestions. "Let's make sure the costumes really stand out, a visual spectacle that perfectly complements the energy of our music," I suggested, unable to contain my excitement.
"Bill, we know you're passionate about the costumes, but let's stay practical. It's not the most important element of our show," Tom said, his tone somewhat indifferent.
I felt a pang of frustration but tried to remain calm. "Of course, the music is the most important, but the visual aspect is what sets us apart. It makes it a complete experience for our audience."
Tom looked at me for a moment, a slight furrow on his brow. "Bill, we understand you're excited, but let's not forget that we also need to be comfortable while performing. It's not just about appearance but also about how we feel on stage."
Gustav looked up from the sketches, his gaze more reserved. "I just want to wear something I feel comfortable in. No frills, just functional," he remarked, attempting to temper my enthusiasm.
I ignored the remarks from my bandmates and continued. "What do you guys think about adding a futuristic twist to the costumes? Maybe metallic accents or fluorescent details to emphasize the 'Humanoid' vibe?"
Marcus, one of our stylists, nodded in agreement, but the reactions from the others were lukewarm. Georg muttered something about just wanting to wear a T-shirt, and Gustav rolled his eyes.
My efforts to involve the band members in discussing costume options fell flat. The meeting was awkward, and the lack of engagement from the others began to frustrate me. Still, I tried not to let my enthusiasm wane.

The costume meeting proved to be a welcome distraction, a chance to shift my thoughts and temporarily put the argument with Elise in the background. Despite the distraction, however, I couldn't deny how much I missed Elise. Her absence felt like a void, and I longed to see her again. I looked forward to the evening, hoping that we would have the chance to talk things out and come closer together again.
As I listened to the discussions about fabrics, designs, and colors, my thoughts drifted to her. Did she miss me as much as I missed her? I yearned for the moment when I could hold her again, look into her eyes, and find the words to bridge the gap between us. The idea of resolving the argument, of restoring our relationship, gave me a glimmer of hope amidst the band dynamics and the hustle and bustle of preparing for the show.