𝙗𝙚𝙖𝙪𝙩𝙮 𝙞𝙨 𝙩𝙚𝙧𝙧𝙤𝙧

009 ; the weight of change

two weeks later

the house was quiet, save for the occasional hum of a passing car outside. the air inside felt heavy, weighed down by all the unspoken tension we'd been carrying since signing with titan records.

we weren't the same band that crammed into a single, too-small van just a few months ago. back then, we'd been loud, messy, and unapologetically ourselves. now, everything felt measured. structured. controlled.

it had been two weeks of recording sessions with marcus hayden, a name that carried both prestige and pressure. he was titan's golden boy—a producer who could turn anyone into a sensation. for mina, this was a dream come true. she practically floated through every meeting, her excitement infectious, though it didn't spread to everyone.

sero and denki were openly skeptical.

"we're not a 'project.'" sero had muttered the day we first met marcus. "we're a band."

denki had agreed, of course. he was always quick to back sero. but me?

i wasn't sure how i felt.

the next morning, we were scheduled for another session at the studio. marcus had already made a list of changes he wanted for two of our songs, and while some suggestions were harmless—a shift in tempo here, a harmony adjustment there—others felt invasive.

"remember," marcus had said at the start of our first session, "this is about reaching as many people as possible. the goal is to take what you've already created and make it resonate on a larger scale."

but what if we didn't want to resonate with everyone? what if we just wanted to be us?

those questions haunted me as we drove to the studio that morning.

bakugo sat in the driver's seat, gripping the steering wheel like it had personally offended him. his knuckles were white, his jaw tight. i sat in the passenger seat, stealing glances at him every so often. he didn't say much, but his mood was written all over his face.

in the back, kirishima and mina were trying to keep things light.

"hey, at least they're feeding us today." kirishima said, nudging mina with his elbow. "remember that one gig where we got paid in pizza slices?"

mina laughed, though it sounded a little forced. "yeah, but that was good pizza."

sero and denki, meanwhile, were uncharacteristically quiet. denki had his headphones on, staring out the window, while sero leaned back with his arms crossed, his expression unreadable.

"let's start with 'shattered edges.'" marcus announced once we were in the studio.

his voice was calm, measured, almost too smooth. he gestured for us to take our places, then adjusted his glasses as he scanned his notes.

we played the song through once, and for a moment, it felt like old times. the melody was raw, the energy electric. but the second we finished, marcus leaned into the mic from the control room.

"okay, great start." he said. "but we're going to make a few tweaks."

sero bristled immediately. "what kind of tweaks?"

marcus didn't miss a beat. "nothing major. just cutting down the bridge and speeding up the tempo slightly. the bridge drags a bit, and we want to keep the momentum going."

"the bridge is supposed to drag," i said before i could stop myself. "it's the whole point—it slows things down so the final chorus hits harder."

marcus raised an eyebrow, clearly not used to being challenged. "i get that, but think about the bigger picture. you want people to stay engaged, right? too much downtime and you risk losing them."

"if they can't handle a two-minute bridge, maybe they're not our audience," bakugo snapped, his tone sharp.

marcus didn't flinch. "i'm here to help you expand your audience, not limit it. trust me on this—less is more."

the rest of the session was tense, to say the least. we played, paused, and replayed our tracks while marcus dissected every note. by the end of it, my head was pounding, and i could feel the weight of everyone's frustration.

that night, back at the house, we gathered in the living room. the old couch sagged under our weight, and the coffee table was cluttered with empty cans and takeout containers. it didn't look like much, but it was home.

"so," mina began, sitting cross-legged on the floor. "how are we feeling?"

sero snorted. "like we're being turned into puppets."

"it's not that bad," kirishima said, though his tone lacked conviction. "some of his ideas weren't terrible."

"some," denki echoed, sprawled out on the couch. "but cutting the bridge? come on, that's the best part of the song."

i sighed, running a hand through my hair. "guys, we knew this wasn't going to be easy. marcus is just doing his job. we don't have to agree with everything he says, but maybe we should try meeting him halfway."

"halfway's still too far." bakugo muttered, leaning back with his arms crossed.

mina raised her glass of wine. "look, i get it. you don't want to lose what makes you... you. but this is titan records. they signed you because they believe in you. maybe you should believe in them a little, too."

the room fell into a heavy silence, everyone lost in their own thoughts.

the decision to move into the new house came a week later. it wasn't an easy choice. our old home was falling apart—cracked walls, leaky pipes, a fridge that only worked when it felt like it—but it was ours. it was where we'd written our first songs, celebrated our first gigs, and dreamed about the future.

the new house, offered by titan, was a mansion by comparison. spacious, modern, and close to the studio. it was perfect on paper, but it didn't feel like us. not yet.

the night before the move, we gathered in the living room one last time. someone suggested carving our band name into the wall as a goodbye, and we all jumped at the idea.

"this is it." kirishima said, handing me the knife. "you should do it, y/n."

my hands shook as i carved the letters into the plaster. each stroke felt like a goodbye, a promise, and a reminder all at once. when i was done, we stepped back to admire the jagged letters—our band name, etched into the wall forever.

"we'll never forget this place." denki said softly, his voice unusually serious.

"damn right." bakugo muttered, his tone gruff.

we spent the rest of the night sharing memories, laughing, and even crying a little. mina pulled out a bottle of champagne, and we toasted to everything we'd accomplished and everything that lay ahead.

as the sun rose, we packed up the last of our things and piled into the van. the drive to the new house was quiet, everyone lost in their thoughts. when we arrived, the sight of the house—a gleaming, modern structure with endless windows and a manicured lawn—felt surreal.

"well." kirishima said, clapping his hands. "let's make it ours."

and so, we began the next chapter of our journey.

word count : 1187