The Rapper's Favorite || An Eminem Fanfiction

Chapter 3: Into the Deep

Marshall's POV

The beat loops again, filling the studio with that same heavy thump it's had for days. I've been staring at my notebook so long that the lines are starting to blur together. I know what I want to say, but the words still aren't coming. Not the way they should.

Aria's stretched out across the couch, her notebook open but untouched. She's got that look on her face—the one where I know she's watching me, waiting for me to crack. Her long dark hair falls forward as she leans down to tie her sneakers, and I can hear the soft creak of her leather jacket with every movement. She's calm, maybe too calm, like she's in control of this whole thing.

"Still nothing?" she asks, not bothering to look up.

I tap my pen against the blank page. "It's coming."

She snorts softly. "Yeah? It's been coming for two days."

I shoot her a look. "What, you suddenly a timekeeper now?"

She glances up, smirking. "Well, I figured since you've been stuck at the same spot for what feels like years, someone's gotta keep track."

I can't help but laugh a little, even though the frustration's still boiling underneath. "You're hilarious, you know that?"

She shrugs, flipping a page in her notebook. "It's part of my charm."

Her sarcasm cuts through the tension a little, but it doesn't change the fact that I'm still staring at a blank page. I know what she's doing—pushing me without being obvious about it. She's good at that. Real subtle, but sharp enough that I can feel the pressure. It's not the kind of pressure that makes me want to quit. It's the kind that makes me want to prove her wrong.

I start writing again, scribbling a few lines, but they don't feel right. I can't shake the feeling that I'm holding back. Every time I get close to something real, I pull back, trying to find a safer way to say it.

"You know that's bullshit, right?" Aria says, pulling me out of my head.

I look up at her, eyebrow raised. "What's bullshit?"

"That," she points at my notebook. "You're writing like you're afraid someone's gonna read it."

I laugh, shaking my head. "Isn't that the point?"

She leans forward, elbows on her knees, locking eyes with me. "Not if you're just saying what people want to hear. This track doesn't need safe. It needs real. You know that better than anyone."

Her words hit harder than I expect. I know she's right. I've been playing it safe, trying to avoid digging too deep. But that's not what this track needs. She's already laid down the hook, and it's raw—too real to ignore. If I don't match that with the verses, it's going to fall flat.

"Why is it so easy for you?" I ask, leaning back in my chair, trying to shake off the weight of her words.

She looks genuinely surprised. "Easy? You think that hook was easy?"

I shrug. "You nailed it."

"Yeah, but that doesn't mean it didn't cost me something." Her voice softens, but there's an edge of challenge in it. "That hook came from a real place, and it wasn't fun getting it down on paper. But that's what made it work."

I let her words sink in. I know what she's saying is true, but it doesn't make it any easier to face.

"So what's stopping you?" she presses, her tone shifting, more curious than demanding now. "You're always pushing everyone else to be real, but when it comes to your own stuff, you're dodging it."

"I'm not dodging," I say, but the words come out too defensive.

She gives me a look that says she's not buying it. "You're dodging."

I rub my hands over my face, the frustration starting to bubble over. "It's not that simple, alright?"

Aria leans back again, her arms crossed, waiting. "You keep saying that. What's so complicated about just telling the truth?"

"You know how it is," I say, my voice low. "Once you put something out there, you can't take it back. People hear it, and it sticks."

She's quiet for a moment, then she nods slowly. "Yeah, I know. But that's the point, isn't it? The truth sticks because people need to hear it."

There's a long pause between us, the beat still thumping quietly in the background. I glance over at her, and for the first time, I see something softer in her expression. She's not just pushing me to be better. She's pushing me because she gets it.

I pick up the pen again, letting out a breath. The first line hits the page, and it feels different this time—heavier, sharper. The more I write, the more I feel the weight of each word settling in. It's not comfortable, but it's real. When I finish, I sit back, staring at the messy scrawl on the page.

I look up at Aria. She's waiting, arms still crossed, her eyes focused on me like she's ready for whatever comes next.

"Let's hear it," she says.

I clear my throat, the words feeling heavy in my mouth as I start reading. They cut deeper than I expected. By the time I finish, the room feels different, like we've both stepped into something more real than either of us planned for.

Aria doesn't say anything right away. She just nods, a small smile tugging at the corner of her mouth. "That's it," she says quietly. "That's what you've been holding back."

There's a strange mix of relief and exhaustion settling in my chest. I sit back, letting the tension ease up just a little.

"You're still a pain in the ass, you know that?" I say, smirking.

She laughs, the sound breaking the heaviness in the room. "Yeah, but you need me."

I shake my head, but I can't help but smile. "Maybe. A little."

She leans forward again, her expression softening. "You ready to lay it down?"

I nod, getting up and heading into the booth. The air feels charged with everything we've been working through for the past couple of days. The headphones settle over my ears, the beat thumping through them with a new energy. I start the verse, letting the words flow out. This time, I don't hold back.

When I finish, the silence that follows feels different. It's not tense. It's solid.

Aria's adjusting the levels on the soundboard when I step out. She glances up at me, her eyes sharp but softer than before. "That's the verse," she says, nodding. "Now it feels right."

I sit down across from her, the exhaustion hitting me full force. It's not just physical. It's the emotional weight of getting those words out.

"See?" she says, leaning back and crossing her arms again. "Wasn't so bad."

I raise an eyebrow, smirking. "You're enjoying this a little too much."

She grins. "Maybe."

We sit in silence for a moment, the track still playing softly in the background. The room feels lighter now, like the tension that's been building up is finally breaking.

Aria stands up, grabbing her notebook and slinging her bag over her shoulder. "We're not done yet," she says, pausing at the door. "But that was a hell of a start."

I nod, feeling the exhaustion settling in. "Yeah. We're getting there."

She smiles, something softer in her expression now. "You're not as stuck as you think, Marshall. You just needed a push."

She steps out, leaving the door slightly open. The light from the hallway spills into the room, casting long shadows across the floor. The beat continues to hum in the background, but it's her words that stay with me.

I needed a push. And maybe, just maybe, I needed her.