Free Fall (A Bastille Story)

Chapter 8 - Grab Coffee

**Dan POV**

I pushed open the door to the studio, shutting it behind me before turning on a lamp. I crossed the room to the window at the other side and pulled the curtains apart, letting the natural London sunlight pool into the room. It seemed a bit chillier than normal this time of year; in fact when I checked the weather, I saw it was only 5 degrees outside. Needless to say, I immediately turned the heat up.

Mark wasn't here yet even though it was nearly 10 am. I figured something had come up and opted to give him a few more minutes by brewing myself some coffee. However, about 10 minutes later, my phone buzzed with a text from Mark.

Came down with a bug. Do we want to risk getting you sick?

I replied quickly.

Absolutely not. Feel like Carrie will rip me a new one if I get sick.

Not entirely inaccurate ;D You'll be okay by yourself?

Yeah. Just get better. ♥

I sighed, putting my phone down on the desk. Adjusting my glasses, I shrugged off my denim jacket, sat down in my chair and dragged one of many keyboards closer to me. I guess I was in for a day of solitary confinement.

I'd been working for about four hours straight when I reached a creative block. In fact, the four hours I'd spent working were really just four hours of trying to coax anything related to music out of me- a lyric, a melody, anything. I'd only managed to get a vague combination of words that may (with a lot of work) become lyrics, and a chord progression, which I'd been playing over and over again in hopes of adding more each time I played it through.

I hadn't added more.

If there's one thing I've learned in the years that I'd been making music is that you can't force it. It comes when it comes. The only thing you achieve by trying to force it is a shitty song and the loss of your sanity. It wouldn't have been as bad if I had Mark to talk to, but that wasn't possible. I really wished the others were here, but there would be no point for them to be here, seeing as they wouldn't be writing anything. Though, I couldn't help but want a little company.

As if reading my mind, my phone rang. It was Kyle, and I picked up immediately, grateful for the distraction.

"Hey, you in the studio?" he asked. I could hear wind on the other side of the line, so I assumed he was outside.

"Yeah. Been here for hours."

"Sounds like you need a break. Have you had lunch?"

"No," I replied, just now realizing that it was true. It was nearly quarter past 2 by now, and I hadn't eaten since 9 this morning.

"You up to grab something?" Kyle asked, though he didn't have to. I was already putting on my jacket.

"Absolutely."

***

"That's it?"

We were sitting in a small cafe about a block away from the studio. We were right up against a window, and I leaned my head against it. The cool glass felt good on my skin. I sipped on an ice tea as Kyle slid my phone back across the table towards me. I'd just played him a recording of the progression I'd come up with, and he was clearly less than excited.

"That's it," I replied, swirling the ice around in my drink.

Kyle leaned back in his chair. "It's a bit generic."

"I know."

"That took you four hours?"

"Mmhm."