a/n: just a btw, i do not fuck with the nonsense doja cats says/does. i just be using her as a character/face claim fr! on w the chapter
your POV
"fuck man! shit is annoying" i watch my best friend bang his fist on the coffee table, center of his studio.
carlo, the producer/engineer, flinches from where he's sat and then pinches the bridge of his nose in frustration, "bro. take a minute. recoup, breathe, think. try again."
"alright, alright." he sulks back into the booth. "ok gimme 4 and i'm good. i need more momentum."
carlo does as he says and lets it roll,
" i don't feel it anymore, the house i bought is not a home, together we are so alone, yeah-yeah-yeah-yeah-yeahhh—FUCK!"
"alright," carlo stands and drops the headphones from his ears, "i'm taking a smoke break."
"you can just spark up in—," abel starts.
"outside! be back in 15."
i cover my grin with my hand as i watch him moodily drag his body through the house; abel re-enters the control room.
"what is going on with you today?"
he plops down next to me on the couch, "my voice isn't cooperating with what i want for the song"
i frown, "maybe you're just not feeling it today."
"i know. that's the problem.. me and bella are good. so i can't put that melancholic, guilty tone into it."
"no offense, but you have plenty of past experience to draw from for that." i say out of the side of my mouth.
he shakes his head, "not the same. i'm damn near about to start an argument with her just to give me something."
my face goes flat, "that's fucking stupid. don't do that."
he grins, "it would work though."
"yeah it would work so good that you'd drive her away from you again and then you'll really be sitting here crying like a little bitch about it."
"mmcht. who asked you?"
i roll my eyes, "you don't have to ask. your evident need for my advice and constant supervision is pretty much permanently engraved on your fucking face."
"can you chill the fuck out? it's not that deep"
i roll my eyes. "you're so stupid bro." i look at him, hair a mess and eyes sunken in like he hasn't been sleeping. "...you using again?"
"oh my- no! still sober! and that's the fucking problem. i'm having withdrawals like a motherfucker, it's not helping."
"ok, well just don't take it out on bella because—"
"oh my god, i'm fucking not! it was just a joke! jesus, do you want to fuck her or something? why do you care so much?" his eyes are beady, face in sweats and hands trembling with the irrationalities clearly running rampant in his mind. i can't stand to be around him when he's like this.
"ok," i stand up, "im leaving because you are unbearable to be around when you act like that."
"oh great, here you go. running out on me again cause you're too in your fucking feelings." he scoffs lazily.
"stop fucking talking"
"go go, go on. go cry about it somewhere." he shoos me off and when i reach the door, i slam it hard enough to shake the house.
