The Weeping Willow and The Mad Musician - Sammy Lawrence x Fem! Reader

PROLOGUE: Living in The Sunlight.

"Sammy Lawrence was a tactical musician filled with endless creativity and imagination that stunned every listener into amazement, and his works live on. But—'The Weeping Willow and The Mad Musician' song is different, seemingly because he had written it for someone sometime before he went insane and then vanished. Rumors say he wrote the song about himself and a woman he loved, others say it was a reference to his favorite song, and some theories speculate it might have not really ever meant anything. Perhaps we shall never truly know. Mr. Lawrence is gone. And if he wrote it about someone, chances are—they're probably either dead or are way too old to remember something like that."

- [REDACTED] DANIELS, 1972, DECEMBER 17TH.

FROM 'MR. SAMMY LAWRENCE', A 50 PAGE ARTICLE ABOUT THE ICONIC MUSICIAN WHO WROTE THE MELODIES FOR THE SILLYVISION CARTOONS CREATED BY JOEY DREW STUDIOS.

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..There was only the sound of birds chirping outside as Y/N slowly opened her eyes, and she found herself blankly staring at the ceiling with a neutral frown.

She felt stiff. She could feel the humid air of the interior brush against her skin, and her body had been covered by the grey blanket that remained sitting on her bed. There was barely any light visible in the room—for sunlight had been blocked by the curtains, and sunlight, she did not crave.

Despite how dark it was, she could tell it was morning. The way the remaining light bounced off of a nearby shelf—and the way the remaining light in the room slightly seeped onto the floor. Y/N stared a little in silence, not uttering a word.

Blankness filled her mind, though her mind quickly swirled once a memory came into her head.

"..oh.. right." She said aloud. "I'm supposed to go to work today."

She hesitated, reluctantly lifting herself upward as a yawn escaped her mouth. Her limbs felt stiff, and her eyes stared ahead, slightly glancing at the room.

There were certain items thrown onto the ground—like mail, or papers, or even clothes. The room smelt foul—like the house had been there for a hundred years. And as she sat, she only felt her frown curl deeper downward on her lips.

Y/N let out a sigh, her eyes half-lidded as her wistful eyes glistened with something empty.

She then slowly turned around with a grunt, and placing her feet on the ground, she reluctantly lifted herself into a standing position—dusting any sort of messes off of her night-gown as she stood.

Like with any other morning for her, or at least the past few mornings she experienced, it was time to get ready. Whether she enjoyed it or not.

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Y/N had moved into the small and cramped bathroom after turning her radio on—bathing in the humid heat as she carried out her usual process. She used the toilet as she often did—but the whole time, her mind remained blank as she stared ahead and occasionally sniffled.

Listening to the morning broadcast from outside of her room, she finished her business—and went toward the tub. Slipping her clothes off of herself, she went into the tub, and carried out the usual process of showering.

And.. during the whole process, her mind felt still. Unable to really process anything. Her body moved on its own—washing water over herself, her hair. Rubbing soap on her skin. And then washing off afterward. It felt almost mechanical. Though, then again, it sort of always felt like that.