Fading Echoes (OCxArianaGrande) [Being Re-Written]

Chapter 1 (Re-Written)

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Please read before continuing, as I've mentioned several times. Currently, this story has no scheduled posting. I'm taking my time rewriting it, so please refrain from asking me about frequent updates.

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EastWest Studios
West Sunset Blvd
Los Angeles, California

Studio Session

5 Years Later...

Benny's POV

The room smelled like old wood, warm electronics, and Harper's coconut-something hair cream.

I'd been posted in the booth for almost an hour, hoodie sleeves rolled up, hands steady on the mic stand. The track was loaded and looping in my ears, layered with static and weight. I adjusted the headphones, glanced through the glass at Harper, then hit the cue.

Her voice came through—low, even, familiar. "Alright, Benny. From the top. You're not just singing it—you're living it. Don't perform it. Say it like it's just us here."

It was just us.

Harper Lane sat slouched behind the console, half-focused, half-zoned. Her Pink Floyd tee was wrinkled as hell, black beanie pulled down low, one hand curled under her chin, knuckles tapped against her lip ring. Tattoos curled up her arms like stories that never got finished. She looked calm. She always looked calm. But I knew her ears were tracking every detail of my breathing.

-Play Ghost* by, Jean Dawson

I stepped closer to the mic and started.

"I wish all my days were a little bit longer..."

I didn't stretch the line. I kept it clipped. Like a thought I was already tired of repeating.

"Wish my eyes were a little bit stronger..."

My voice cracked slightly on "stronger." I kept going.

"Live my life like I'm running from the police..."

"Live my life like—"
"—like nobody."

The beat sat low in my chest—cold, metallic, steady. I let it carry me.

"Know me..."
"Know me..."
"Nobody know me..."

I softened on the third repetition, leaning into it like I was saying it to someone who wouldn't listen.

"Live my life like nobody know me..."