The Higher We Soar

4. The why's

(beta-reader of this chapter was the most wonderful @Julcia_404)

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"One year..." I said thoughtfully, settling onto the grass beside him with a slightly shaky hand. "You're only a year younger than me? No way..."

He chuckled, bringing the paper cup to his lips for a sip. "What's so surprising about that? How old did you think I was?"

"I don't know," I admitted, furrowing my brow. "You just seem so vibrant and full of life. Most people lose that spark right after hitting 25."

"Oh, come on," he dismissed it with a grin, "You're just buying into clichés. Besides, you keep up with me just fine, don't you? The difference is, I put my energy into mindless chatter, while you put yours into creating. And maybe underestimating me."

I snickered, relishing the warmth of my freshly brewed coffee on this peculiar Sunday morning. And peculiar it was.

Devastatingly tired, I was sitting on that river bank near the coffee shop, trying to push aside the nagging thought that I hadn't created anything substantial since that damn demo.

"So tell me... What's it like?" Maddox asked somewhat quietly, cradling his cup of coffee, his gaze fixed thoughtfully on the opposite shore. "To, you know... to create something?"

I blinked at him, my mind a bit scattered, a touch perplexed.

"Well, I-" I began, struggling to gather my thoughts, "My ability to answer your questions coherently vanished about an hour ago, or so. I may have left it in my apartment, actually. I can barely remember my own name. Are you... are you asking about music?"

"Yeah, I'm asking about music!" He chuckled. "Sophie showed me your demo the other day... it was quite different from the one you were recording with me that one time. I wanted to tell you that yesterday, actually. Tell you that I truly loved it."

"Oh?" I clicked my tongue, shaking my head. "I'm starting to believe Sophie's got a major soft spot for you, and it's not healthy anymore... She really shouldn't have shared that with anyone."

Except, I didn't just start to believe that. It was a well-established fact, one that he, the producer, and I were all fully aware of.

"I've got the gift of persuasion, at least according to Soph," he quipped, a smug smirk playing on his lips. "I'm not even going to pretend I'm sorry about that. Though it doesn't seem to work wonders on you. Besides... I'm just an intern, aren't I? I can't even sing, just so you know. So how could I secretly sell it to someone if I can't even hum it properly?"

I chuckled in agreement. "Fair point."

Just an intern.

It wasn't the first time I got the feeling that he took pride in his role as an intern. While some others aimed to breeze through their internship, eager to either secure a permanent position at the studio or bid us farewell forever, he seemed to relish every moment of it.

"So?" His voice cut through my thoughts once more.

I sighed, tearing my gaze away from the tranquil scene across the river, where the morning mist draped everything in a serene glow. It was early Sunday morning, following a night-long party, and here he was, bombarding me with questions I barely had answers to.

"Oh, Jesus... Alright. Let me think. It's like..." I started, crossing my fingers that the right words would magically appear in my head on their own, "I guess it's like... every time I finish a piece, it's as if my thoughts stop being just mine. Thoughts and feelings? Like...like they are out there, put in an order. It's like I step out of my body and can look at them from a distance."