The drop

The Fall

    Chapter 5:

The EP release was bigger than Kai expected. Within hours, the buzz started building. His tracks were everywhere—blogs, social media, playlists. It was like the stars had aligned, and for the first time in his career, Kai felt like he was more than just a promising name. He was becoming someone who mattered in the music scene.

But with the success came something darker. The demands ramped up. Nova Records wanted him to go on a mini-tour, fans were constantly asking for new tracks, and his inbox was flooded with collaboration requests from artists he'd only dreamed of working with. The pressure that had lifted after his beach trip came crashing back, harder this time, more relentless.

Kai spent hours in the studio, running on adrenaline and sheer determination. Sleep became a luxury he couldn't afford. Every day was a blur of meetings, phone calls, and endless hours producing. There was no time to celebrate, no time to reflect. Only the next deadline.

One night, after another grueling studio session, Kai stared at his computer screen, his latest track barely coming together. The beats were chaotic, messy, like his mind. Nothing felt right. His heart raced as he checked the time—3 a.m.—and the realization hit him: he hadn't slept in two days.

His phone buzzed on the table. It was Jordan.

"Hey, man. Just saw the setlist for the tour. Nova's putting you on the main stage for most of the stops. Big upgrade. You ready?"

Main stage. The words sent a chill through him. It should've been exciting, but instead, it filled him with dread.

"I don't know, man," Kai muttered, rubbing his temples. "I'm drowning here. The tour, the new tracks, it's all just... too much."

Jordan's voice softened. "I get it, Kai. I do. But this is the moment. Everyone's watching. You've got to push through."

"Push through?" Kai snapped, his voice rising. "I've been pushing through for months. I'm exhausted. My music's a mess. I can't even think straight."

There was a long silence on the other end before Jordan finally spoke. "Look, you've come this far. I know it's hard, but you can't stop now. You've got what it takes. Just keep going."

Kai hung up without responding. The walls of his studio felt like they were closing in, the air thick and suffocating. He grabbed his jacket and stormed out of the apartment, desperate for some fresh air.

    The Night Before the Tour

The tour's opening night was in a day, and Kai hadn't touched his decks in over 48 hours. He hadn't listened to his own tracks, hadn't rehearsed. The weight of it all was crushing him, and every time he tried to prepare, his hands would shake, his mind would fog.

Desperation pushed him into something he swore he'd never do—pills to keep him awake, to keep the edge off, to keep him functional. Everyone in the scene did it, right? Just a way to cope, to keep up. But as the hours passed and the buzz from the drugs faded, the panic set in again.

He found himself staring into the bathroom mirror, his eyes bloodshot, his skin pale and clammy. His heart pounded in his chest, too fast, too hard. He barely recognized the face staring back at him.

"I can't do this," Kai whispered to himself, gripping the sink so tightly his knuckles turned white.

He grabbed his phone and texted Jordan.

    Kai:   "I'm out. I can't do it."

Seconds passed, then his phone rang. Jordan's name flashed on the screen.

"What the hell do you mean you're out?" Jordan's voice was sharp, harsher than usual. "You can't back out now. The whole thing's built around you. Nova's already locked in the venues, the promos are everywhere. This tour is your shot!"

"I don't care!" Kai yelled, pacing the small room. "I'm falling apart, man. I haven't slept in days. I'm losing it. I can't go out there like this."

"Do you hear yourself right now?" Jordan's tone shifted, frustration mixing with concern. "Look, take a breath. You've got people counting on you, but more than that, you've got something to prove. You've already made it this far. Just hold it together a little longer."

Kai slumped against the wall, his heart pounding louder than ever. "I'm not sure I can."

Jordan sighed, softer this time. "Then fake it. Just get through tomorrow. One show at a time. You're stronger than this, Kai. You've got it in you. Don't throw it away."

Kai hung up again, his head spinning. He slid down the wall, knees to his chest, trying to slow his breathing. He knew Jordan was right—backing out now wasn't an option. The industry didn't care about burnout. It cared about results.

But deep down, Kai knew he wasn't the same person who stood on that festival stage months ago. The passion that once fueled him had been replaced by fear, the joy of creation overshadowed by the crushing need to deliver.

    The First Show

The next night, Kai stood backstage at the first tour stop, the roaring crowd echoing in his ears. The stage lights flashed, illuminating the sea of people waiting for him to take control. His hands trembled as he adjusted his headphones, the familiar weight of the moment sinking in.

"Five minutes," a stagehand called, and Kai's stomach flipped.

He couldn't breathe. He couldn't think. The walls of the backstage area seemed to close in on him again, just like they had in his apartment. Panic surged through him like a wave, and for a brief moment, he considered running—just bolting through the exit and disappearing into the night.

But then he saw Echo, standing near the side of the stage, arms crossed, watching him. Echo nodded once, a silent show of support, but it wasn't enough. Not this time.

Kai stepped onto the stage, the crowd erupting into a deafening cheer. The lights blinded him, the bass from the speakers shaking the ground beneath his feet. But as he reached for his controller, his vision blurred, the edges of his world darkening.

His heart raced faster, the pounding in his chest so loud he could barely hear the music. His hands shook violently, missing the buttons, the keys, the faders.

The first track dropped, but it didn't feel like his. The music felt foreign, distant, a hollow echo of what it once was. His fingers fumbled, the transitions sloppy, the beats disjointed. He could feel the crowd's energy shift—confusion, disappointment.

"Get it together," Kai muttered under his breath, but the words felt empty.

Another drop came, but it didn't hit. The crowd's cheers had turned into murmurs, the vibe of the night slipping away. Kai could barely see straight. The pills weren't working anymore. His vision swam, his thoughts fragmented.

Then, out of nowhere, the music stopped. A dead silence filled the arena.

Kai's heart stopped. He frantically looked down at his controller, trying to fix the issue, but his mind was blank. He couldn't think, couldn't breathe.

The crowd started booing.

And just like that, it was over.

Kai stood frozen, staring out at the sea of faces. Thousands of eyes on him, watching him fall apart in real time. The weight of failure crushed him, pressing down on his chest until he could barely stand.

He turned, stumbling off the stage, his vision darkening with each step. His breath came in shallow gasps, his body trembling uncontrollably.

Echo was waiting for him, but Kai couldn't face him. He couldn't face anyone.

He collapsed to the ground, the roar of the crowd fading into a distant hum.

Everything went black.