ache | lee felix

chapter 19 '✦ ˑ ִֶָ 𓂃⊹ coffee (lix ver.)

From the mind of Stella

︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵

    A black coffee with only a couple drops of french vanilla creamer, and a strawberry oat milk latte. Complete opposites, but that's just the way it's meant to be I guess. Lix sets the 2 mugs down on the wooden table, black coffee in front of me, sweet latte in front of himself.

    "Thanks, Lix," I slip off my black coat, and lay it down next to me in the booth, "I'll get it next time."

    He shakes his head, raising the mug up to his lips, "No you won't, but thanks for the offer anyway." He takes a sip of the latte and his eyebrows shoot up, "Mmm!" I smile, blowing on my coffee to cool it off a bit before trying it.

    "So," He sets the mug down, and rolls up the sleeves of his maroon cable knit sweater, "How's it going with Chan in the studio? You never really talk about it with me."

    "It's really, interesting? At first I thought that songwriting came from skill and technical knowledge. But the more I do it, the more I realize that being honest and feeling it out is all there really is to it. Which can sometimes be harder than the actual musical skill- at least that's what Chan says." I tuck a strand of hair behind my ear, "So it's nice, it's so freeing. And Chan is just so talented and knows exactly how to produce for my voice and guide me. Singing is scary,but not when I'm around him."

    "Sooo can I hear a song?" He purses his lips.

    "Umm," I fidget with my ring. Literally all my songs are about you, "Not yet. I don't think I'm ready to show anything yet.

    "But Chan can hear them.."

    "Yeah, he's literally the producer, there would be no song without him.
    "But you said that you have no problem singing around him, could you just sing one for me? No production, or whatever Chan adds to it?"

    I look off to the side and lean back into the corner of the booth, "The songs just... aren't ready to show yet. They are still pretty rough. The lyrics and melody..."

    He drops his shoulders. Making it obvious he's feeling disappointed, "Yeah sure, whatever."

    "What?" I sigh, "You're telling me you'd be perfectly fine, not nervous at all to sing a song you wrote yourself in front of me?"

    "Yup."

    I roll my eyes in disbelief.

    "In front of other people, yeah I'd be nervous, but not you."

    I breathe out. These words, to me, are affectionate, but I'm not certain I'm perceiving them correctly. My rose-colored glasses from the events of Christmas night are causing an inability to process my interactions with him normally.

    "Would you do it here?" I push him a step further just to test his response.

    "Anywhere." He leans forward, looking me in the eye.

    "Now?" I lean forward too, returning his seriousness.

    "Now." He promptly rises from his seat and I see his chest expand, taking a deep breath in.

    "No," I reach over the table to grab his wrist and yank it down, forcing him back into his seat, "No, no, no, point made, you don't have to do all that."

    "Okay," he laughs, "It's just that sometimes I don't think you believe me when I tell you things."

I pause, not sure if I'm hearing him correctly, "What?"