Transmission To Disorder (Vox x reader) (Vee's x reader)

Chapter 4

Each tick of the drums and stabbing sting between your fingers collectively created the final song for your performance tomorrow. With your head phones booming against your ears you exerted in working quickly to keep up with your own recorded voice. Boris sat behind the glass and red recording light, he wasn't watching you though. He was more in tune to typing into the bright white light of the computer.

"Sometimes you're better off dead. There's a gun in your hand it's pointing at your head."

Your voice was charismatic in the recording, your vocal cords relaxing and reforming to create melodies eccentric and harmonious. As the song goes on your voice strengthens and bellows out. Hitting the drums you switch the pressure upon your feet as you multitask the sticks. Bashing the symbols you catch Boris attention, playing with more vigor and passion. Ending the song you breathe hard and look to the muppet. For once he didn't look entirely annoyed by you, the stitching along his face softening.

"That was good." He brought the microphone to his mouth to speak to your headset. You nodded and smiled. You were a sucker for his approval now apparently? You ripped the headphones off and pushed off the drum stool. You were acting like a fool. Plopping down next to Boris you eye whatever he was doing on the computer. You watched his stable ridden fingers work around the keyboard. It looked very complicated and out of your line of understanding.

"Sinner Girls?" Boris had the computer file ready to label. "Yeah." You looked back to him, then the computer, then him. Till he was looking at you. Were his eyes glowing? "I'm going to sync your drums with computer generated sound." You didn't quite like the idea of this but he'd made it quite clear that you had no say. You felt like you could trust him not to make your song sound like trash. Boris had already made two songs with you, both of which were hits! There's no reason you shouldn't trust his skills. Boris clipped and edited the audio of your base playing into the song with the drums, typing feverishly
to adjust the reverb.

"He's going to interview you, you know?" You bit your tongue hard. Velvette hadn't told you that. "Are you fucking kidding me?" Boris didn't even look at you, just shrugged his shoulders fluffing his ugly ass orange hair. "It'll be short. Right after you sing." You were going to have a talk with Vox about this whole tv performance thing. He didn't tell you a thing about anything! And it was seriously starting to tick you off.

"I'm done." Boris clicked the play button and your guitar began thumping and your voice gathering itself into a steady tempo. The longer you listened the more you understood why Vox had Boris help you. He's a fucking composure genius. You nodded your head to the beat and tapped your foot, Boris caught you and you froze. He smirked, his staples curving with his skin, before signaling you to focus. You did just that.

You lay on your stomach with your feet kicked up. Only having a few hours to relax, you spent the time curiously poking around your Sinstagram looking at the songs posted and pictures of you and Velvette that the paparazzi had snuck of you. Some of the pictures were admittedly good, while the others you didn't think you looked very attractive in- but those were liked the most to your surprise. Getting bored of looking at your phone, you decide to smoke the second joint Valentino had given you.

Lighting it and taking the tip past your lips, you inhaled before throwing the lighter somewhere. Your phone began ringing and you flipped it face up, seeing it was Vox you answered immediately. "Are you getting everything together for tonight?" He did not sound patient for your response in the slightest but you were startled by the change in schedule. "Yeah I got the song already but Velvette said it was tomorrow!" Your voice was panicked as you sat up from your bed. "Yes it's tonight. Velvette got it mixed up. And I don't mean the songs." Taking slow methodically puffs as you paced back and forth to the windows of your room. You'd hope the weed would take off your nerves and it did, you were noticeably calm.