One Day [PRN]

One

The crisp September air clung to my skin as I stood outside Paisley Park, my breath curling in the cool evening like smoke. The sky was a muted indigo, speckled with stars that flickered softly, half-drowned in the suburban glow of Chanhassen. Inside, the steady hum of the studio still buzzed through the glass, faint but persistent, a reminder of the work Prince and I had left behind for a brief moment of fresh air. My body still vibrated with the notes we'd been playing, the way the music swelled, consuming the space between us until it was all I could hear.

I leaned against the cool brick wall, feeling the weight of the moment settle into my bones. The door clicked open behind me, and I didn't need to turn around to know it was him. His presence had a way of filling a room, or even the emptiness of the outdoors. There was a pause, the sound of his boots on the pavement before he spoke.

"You good?" His voice, always so smooth, was like velvet over gravel.

I nodded, pushing a loose strand of hair behind my ear, though I could feel his eyes on me. Prince had this way of watching, like he was trying to decipher a melody only he could hear. I turned to face him, meeting his gaze. His sunglasses, even in the fading light, made it hard to read his expression, but I could feel the warmth in his voice.

"It's a lot, I know," he said, his lips curving into that half-smile that always left me feeling a little unsteady. "You're doing better than you think, though."

I exhaled a shaky breath, a laugh escaping before I could stop it. "Coming from you, that means everything."

His smile widened, just a fraction, but enough to make the moment feel more intimate than it should've. The air between us felt heavier, thick with something unspoken. I wanted to say something, to break the tension, but the words got stuck somewhere between my chest and throat.

Instead, he moved closer, just a step, his hand brushing the small of my back, guiding me toward the door. "Let's get back in," he said softly. "We're not done yet."

His touch lingered longer than necessary. I swallowed hard, my heart racing as we stepped inside.

As we walked back into the studio, the dim light from the overhead fixtures casting long shadows across the room, I felt his hand drift away from my back, leaving a strange chill in its place. The warmth that had flared between us outside was still there, though it now felt muted by the familiar walls of Paisley Park. The soft hum of the recording equipment buzzed in the background, but I wasn't listening to it.

I tried to shake it off, the way his touch had lingered, the look in his eyes that spoke louder than anything he'd said. My heart thudded against my ribs as I set my guitar down, pretending to tune the strings even though I didn't need to.

He watched me, leaning against the console with a kind of casual grace that only he could pull off. His eyes, behind those dark sunglasses, seemed to bore right through me, and for a moment, the weight of his silence felt like too much.

"You know..." he started, his voice low and deliberate, almost as if he was thinking out loud. "I can feel it too."

I froze. The pick I was holding between my fingers slipped and clattered to the floor, but I didn't move to pick it up. The air in the room suddenly felt too tight, like the walls were pressing in.

He sighed, the sound heavy with something I couldn't quite name. Pulling off his sunglasses, he set them down beside him. His eyes—deep, dark, and unreadable—met mine with an intensity that made my breath hitch.

"You're young," he said, each word slow and deliberate, as though he were trying to choose them carefully. "And I'm too old for this... for you."

The words hung in the air between us, like the final note of a song that refused to fade. My pulse was racing, and I wasn't sure if it was from the music or something deeper. A part of me wanted to argue, to tell him that the age difference didn't matter, that whatever this was between us wasn't something we could just explain away with numbers. But I couldn't get the words out.