comfort | sean and kaycee.

fourth time.

the fourth time was born out of pure necessity. it wasn't sleep but to sean, the ease of it was pretty damn close.

he was never one to be crushed by pressure. there was plenty of that in his daily life, a result of living under infinite judging stares, performing on both the stage and the internet. there were only a few times where he could be himself to his fullest extent. his job elicited that rule. sean had to get used to narrowed eyes and harsh critics, especially his insistent inner one; it was a necessary hardship of his life's work, and by now, he's learned how to carry it with tact and reassurance.

but every now and then, all artists, whether they're good or bad, hit a plateau, a wasteland of creative stagnation that they can only wander and toil through until they find another river flowing with soulful, inspiring insight. he was just so thankful, sean thought with his eyes rolled, so so thankful, that he and his dance partner found themselves lost in such a wasteland when they needed it the most.

and it was times like these when that pressure becomes considerably harder to carry.

so, even with weeks before their partner class was due to happen, the two of them lay on the floor of sean's garage, their chests stepped on by pressure's heavy, invincible shoe.

crisp, quick acoustic guitar strummed through sean's speaker.

"nope," he said.

he heard kaycee tap her phone screen.

now, dark bass blew through the speakers and sent reverb through the floor and into their backs. kaycee "ooh"-ed in surprise at the vibrations. sean blew out his cheeks, listening to the song. then he released the air in his mouth and spoke.

"nope."

kaycee tapped her phone screen again.

a vocal intro featuring a raspy voice played for only five seconds before sean gave his verdict.

"nope." tap. another song played.

"uh-uh." tap. another.

"noooope." tap, and another.

"no."

there was no tap this time, and the speakers continued to play mellow r&b, a lilting voice singing on top of deep, rolling beats. he heard kaycee shift around and speak from somewhere to his left.

"sean, are you even listening to the music?"

his eyes were closed, seeing only bright red as the ceiling lights shined down on them. his long limbs were splayed on the wooden floor, covered in wrinkled, neutral clothes.

"yeah, kayc," sean sighed. "i've listened to them before." his eyes opened a crack, squinting at the ceiling. "but nothing's really hitting me."

"yeah," she replied softly, "i feel that. nothing's really hitting me either." the music was cut abruptly, the silence echoing.

sean opened his eyes and turned his head to kaycee. she was laying on her stomach, some feet away, staring at her phone and using her free arm as a pillow for her cheek.

kaycee noticed him and adjusted to return his gaze. for a second, they shared a smile of sympathy, and then they resumed their original positions. sean lifted his arm and flopped it over his eyes, burying them in the crook of his elbow, his lips and nose exposed. the two dancers said nothing.

kaycee's bare feet squeaked against the wooden floors as she moved around. sean paid no attention, stuck in his own thoughts.

the creative wasteland was draining him, drying up any spring of inspiration in his mind. they had been wracking their minds for hours now, searching for any wells, rivers, lakes, even puddles in either of their brains. but there was only a vast desert that expanded and seeped into his pride. the sands piled up. the pressure was getting heavier.