the stars in your eyes | t.s. one shots

bandmates

i actually started this one over the summer right after i saw the play stereophonic in london (...twice because it was just that good) and i kind of forgot about it until a few days ago so i finished it up. and i guess all of that is to say that some inspiration for the plot of this did come from the play, but also a lot of it is my own <3 i haven't been writing a lot lately- life has been crazy- but this one was fun. enjoy xx

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"Hey Taylor..." His voice comes through the microphone, the sound waves of the speakers filling the little recording studio as though it's the voice of God himself. Her attention snaps to the blonde-haired man sitting at the control panel, separated from her only by some soundproof glass paneling. "That little opt-up you're doing... I liked it better when it was just regular, singing it straight. Can you go back?" He speaks with the confidence of an all-knowing deity too. As though there's no way that anyone could ever disagree with his ideas.

Taylor sighs, running her hand through her hair with one hand and reaching for her water bottle with the other. "No." That's all she says. It's been a whole day of this... of Joe having opinions about her every little choice, asking her to change notes or tweak lyrics. He's the drummer of the band, and a damn good one at that. But he doesn't know the first thing about singing or about writing songs and he's sitting there with that smug look on his face, acting like he has some sort of control over her art just because they sleep in the same bed.

"Taylor," he says, his tone demeaning, as though he's trying to reason with a six-year-old, "hon, you're a phenomenal writer, but that's what's taking you far, not your vocals. You sing the songs you write out of convenience. Come on, you don't have to show off. Just sing it straight. It sounds better when you keep it simple."

Somewhere inside of her, she feels the last straw break.

She can even see the look of horror on Jack's face, her trusted producer for longer than this band has ever been together, since way before she met Joe. The more affirming thing, though, is what Travis's face looks like. Travis: Jack's production intern for the project. He's the admittedly really cute boy whom he started bringing around a week ago when things started to get serious in making an album. Travis looks somewhere between horrified and completely pissed off, as though he might slug Joe if Taylor doesn't step in and intervene.

"Hey Jack?" She entirely ignores Joe's remark. "Can we take a pause until the others come back from the deli? I need to talk to Joe." It's the best that she can do to de-escalate the situation.

Joe's voice fills the room in protest. "Taylor, that's ridiculous. We just need to lay down this vocal; you just have to cooperate."

Jack looks over at Joe, sitting beside him at the sound board. "I'll make the calls here." He turns back to Taylor. "Yeah, that sounds like a good idea. I'll cut the mics and you two can have some privacy in the vocal booth if that sounds good?"

Taylor nods. Joe doesn't want to, but sees no other choice, so he slips through the door to be on the same side of the window as Taylor is. There's a heavy silence that hangs between the two of them for a moment. He knows he's causing tension, and she doesn't know how to start the conversation- one he isn't going to like.

Finally, his words cut through the air. "Well, if you're going to yell at me, go ahead. I just want this album to be the best it can be. I didn't think that was too much to ask, but you're being so damn difficult-"

"I can't do this anymore," she says.

He looks confused. "What? The band? You're leaving?"

"No, Joe. I'm not leaving the band. I'm leaving you. You have too much of a power trip over me, and it's fucking pissing me off. I'm tired of you telling me how to do my job. I don't tell you how to play the drums."