Ziy

the city is eerily quiet at around one-thirty in the morning. most of the streets are empty as i speed my car down them.

the radio is softly playing in the background, but i barely hear it.

all i can think about are the lyrics sitting in my notes app.

'thinking of you'.

it almost makes me laugh, thinking about my current situation.

the title alone should probably be enough to make me turn the car around and go back home to my boyfriend.

instead, i drive even faster.

the studio building comes into view twenty minutes later.

the parking lot is almost completely empty, except for a few cars that belong to the producers and engineers who practically live here.

i step inside and for the first time all night, i don't feel bored. i suddenly feel awake.

"y/n?"

i glance up to find my producer staring at me from behind a desk. his eyebrows shoot up.

"it's almost two in the morning," he says, surprised to see me here.

i nod. "i know."

"why are you here?"

i clear my throat.

"i just have an idea. if i don't record it now i don't know when i will."

he nods, his eyebrows still slightly furrowed.

"okay, go ahead," my producer nods with confusion laced in his voice.

i head toward the booth before i can second guess my actions.

the lyrics are already written; and for once that's the easy part.

i pull out my phone and open the note, staring at the words that i've been too scared of to actually confront.

my producer follows me into the recording room.

"you got a melody?" he asks.

i shrug.

"kind of."

"kind of?" he repeats.

"i'll figure it out," i say dismissively.

he laughs.

"that's reassuring."

and normally i'd laugh back, but tonight i don't.

because for the first time in a while, a blossoming song is playing in my head. i just need to get it out.

i step up to the microphone and adjust the headphones over my ears.

i don't have any instrumentals nor a beat. so all i hear is silence.

my producer gives me a look through the glass.

"you want me to build something first?" he offers.

i shake my head.

"no."

he raises his eyebrow at that.

"you sure?" he clarifies.

"yeah," i tell him.

the room falls silent after that.

i don't even think i need the lyrics written out in front of me - they're practically engraved into my brain at this point - but i have the note open on my phone.

i then start singing.

when i fade out the last note, neither of us say anything.

my producer just stares at me through the glass. i can tell he is a bit confused and shocked at the lyrics i sang, but despite whatever concerns or questions he may have, he stays quiet. for now.

i stare back at him.

"well?" i ask.

he blinks a few times.

"where the hell has that been?"

i laugh nervously.

"hiding from me, apparently," i joke.

he shakes his head before turning toward the computer.

usually creating a song takes hours. sometimes days. sometimes weeks. but tonight, it feels effortless.

my producer builds around the vocal instead of the other way around.

he adds a soft piano first. then strings. then a drum pattern that's barely there.

and piece by piece, the song starts taking shape.

every sound feels like it's been waiting for the vocals instead of competing with them. nothing feels forced or rushed.

i'm finally not staring at a blank page hoping inspiration shows up. because it's already here.

we play back the song in pieces, making sure each snippet becomes better than the first version.

i redo some vocals and add on harmonies and adlibs and such.

and before i know it, it's almost four in the morning.

my producer's coffee that's sitting next to the mixing desk has gone cold. the city outside is still dark, and has gotten quieter, in fact. but somehow, despite spending months unable to finish a single cohesive thought for a song, i now have one sitting in front of me. finished.

my producer leans back in his chair.

"i think that's it."

i stare at the screen. at the title sitting in the corner.

'thinking of you'.

suddenly, the excitement i'd been running on starts to fade. now that the song is completely finished, i have to listen to the final playback.

the room is silent as my producer clicks 'play'.

the opening instruments fill the speakers. then my voice.

it's soft at first. then the lyrics start.

by the second verse, i can't even look at my producer anymore. because hearing the actual finished version out loud makes one thing painfully obvious: the song isn't subtle at all. every line practically screams his name.

well, not literally. but close enough.

when the song ends, i let out a breath i didn't realize i'd been holding in.

there's a silence that's almost awkward between us.

"so," my producer starts.

i already know what's coming.

"don't-"

"it's about gunner, right?" he interjects before i can even finish speaking.

i groan.

"seriously?" i ask, covering my face with my hands.

he gives me a look.

"y/n."

"it's not..." i trail off, my voice completely unconvincing.

i don't even believe it myself.

my producer laughs quietly.

"that's what i thought."

i rub a hand over my face.

"it's not like i released it," i try to plead my case.

"yet. you just spent two hours perfecting it," he points out.

"that doesn't mean anything," i dismiss.

he laughs a bit.

"but it means something."

i glance back toward the speakers. toward the title. toward the song that somehow managed to do what months of attempted studio sessions couldn't; make me feel something.

for a moment, neither of us say anything. the track continues sitting on the screen, waiting.

my producer studies me for a second.

"you're gonna release it, aren't you?" he questions, knowing me too well.

i let out a quiet laugh.

because the answer is obvious.

"eventually."

"even with jack?"

that question makes me pause.

not because i don't know the answer. but because i do.

my eyes drift back to the title.

'thinking of you'.

"i don't know," i admit.

and that's the truth.

i should probably feel worse than i do. actually, i should definitely feel worse than i do.

i have a boyfriend sleeping in my bed right now. a boyfriend who would absolutely hate this song if he heard it.

but at the same time, i didn't write it to hurt him; i wrote it because it's honest.

because it's the first thing i've cared enough about in a long time for me to stay up this late for.

because no matter how hard i try to ignore it, the feelings for him are there whether i write about them or not.

my producer sighs.

"that's gonna cause problems," he says, clearly thinking logically compared to my senseless thoughts.

i laugh.

"most good songs do."

he points toward me.

"see? that's the exact attitude that's gonna cause problems."

i breathe out through my mouth, still a stupid, foolish smile on my lips.

"probably."

but instead of feeling guilty, i mostly feel relieved for many things; that this song finally exists, that the thoughts that have been bouncing in my head have finally been expressed, that i actually have drive to make music again.

i stand up from my chair and grab my phone from the desk.

"send me the final version when it's exported," i tell him.

my producer raises an eyebrow.

"already leaving?" he asks.

"it's four in the morning," i say.

"fair."

i'm halfway to the door when he speaks again.

"you are gonna release it, aren't you?"

i stop.

for some reason, the question makes me glance back at the computer screen. at the title. at the audio waves stretching across the monitor.

"probably," i finally admit.

"eventually?" he asks, seemingly knowing the real answer.

i don't answer right away. instead, i pull out my phone. i open instagram. i open my music distributer app.

my producer's eyes narrow.

"y/n," he says, his tone warning.

i ignore him.

"y/n," he repeats.

"what?" i ask, my voice almost annoyed.

"don't do anything stupid."

i laugh. because i'm about to do something that's really stupid.

"did you send me the file?" i ask, disregarding his previous words.

he sighs, turning his attention to the computer for a brief moment.

"i can, y/n, but please don't do anything you'll regret," he tries to reason with me.

i nod.

the exported file lands in my inbox barely a few seconds later.

i open it.

then i open the app i use to publish songs.

my thumb hovers over the upload button.

it's 4:07 am. a random thursday.

no warning, no promotion, no countdown, no teasing lyrics. absolutely nothing.

which makes this all the more surprising.

but the more i stare at the screen, the more i like the idea.

music isn't supposed to sit in folders forever, right?

and this song definitely wasn't written to stay hidden. it was written because i couldn't keep it inside anymore.

so why wait?

i can tell my producer sensed my small hesitation turn into motivation after receiving the file via email.

"you're not serious right now, y/n," he says.

as he says this, i'm uploading the file onto the app i use to release my music.

"i'm completely serious," i respond, tapping away.

"your label is gonna kill you."

i laugh it off, scrolling through my camera roll for the cover art.

"they'll survive."

"your manager is definitely gonna kill you," he says.

i type in the title of the song.

"yeah, well she'll survive too."

then my finger hovers over the release button.

for half a second, doubt creeps in.

jack.

gunner.

mazzy.

the headlines and articles that'll inevitably come from this. the questions. the assumptions. the problems. i think about all of it.

and then i press release anyway.

yourusername

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user GIRL IT IS 4 IN THE MORNING

user NEW MUSIC????

user who hurt her?? ⤷ user i don't think we were supposed to hear this ...

user y'all don't say gunner ⤷ user its him fs ⤷ user be serious rn who else would it be 😭 ⤷ user i wasn't gonna speculate but...

user somebody lock twitter before they start

user they broke up 8 months ago btw

user HOLD ONNN THE TIMING IS INSANE ⤷ user u people connect everything ⤷ user no bc why did she drop this TONIGHT

user y'all she literally has a boyfriend ⤷ user girl... this is NOT about jack 😭 ♡ liked by author

user mother has returned

user song of the year idc

user imagine being jack rn ⤷ user i just know he is sick to his stomach ⤷ user someone check on that man

user i don't care who it's about THIS SONG IS AMAZING

user i'm not saying she's wrong but i'd be devastatedddd

user it's been a long 8 months but it was worth the wait

a/n : messy ass .... she needs to chill ... but i can't blame her like highkey anything for nett 🤤 LMFAO anywayyyyy lmk what u guys think of this!!! feel free to send me comments, questions, suggestions, or anything thru my inbox!! my reqs are closed but i'll still take them for whenever i feel like working on anything new!!! likes/reblogs are greatly appreciated <22 love u guysssss

lmk if you want to be tagged in any future nettspend fics!

the television in my bedroom plays quietly in the background, playing a random show that i'm not actually watching.

my boyfriend, jack's, arm is lazily draped across my waist, his touch warm, and his breathing slow and steady against my torso.

i stare at the ceiling.

i know this should be enough - being here with my boyfriend who loves me, in bed with him, comfortable and happy. eh, maybe happy.

i know i should feel lucky that loving him is easy. that he kisses me goodbye every morning and remembers how i like my coffee and never lets our arguments last longer than a few hours. i know i should feel lucky that there's nothing wrong with him. that there's nothing missing.

but i still catch myself waiting for a feeling that never comes.

jack shifts beside me, tightening his arm around my waist for a second before settling again. to which i don't react to.

the television continues to fill the silence in the room with dialogue and laugh tracks that neither of us have been paying attention to.

and that's usually how our nights go.

takeout. some random show. in bed before midnight.

it's comfortable, i guess. very safe, sure. and unbelievably predictable.

and i think that's the problem.

everything with jack is easy. so easy that after a while it all started blending together into a long routine that i can practically predict before it even happens.

let me take a guess: he'll wake up tomorrow morning and kiss my forehead before he gets out of bed. he'll stop for coffee afterward and get my order exactly right. later tonight he'll ask if i wanna watch a movie this weekend, and i'll say yes even though we both know i'll spend half of it scrolling on my phone.

it's not bad. it's just nothing. and that reflects onto me.

i make music, but i haven't released a new song in about eight months. and it's not because i can't write one, because i can. i just haven't felt anything strong enough to be worth writing about. well except for maybe one song.

everything lately sounds the same.

every lyric i start ends up unfinished in the notes app on my phone. every melody feels recycled before i even finish recording it. i've spent months sitting in studios pretending writer's block is some mysterious artistic crisis i'm going through, when really, i think i've just become incredibly bored.

i'm bored of this routine, bored of hearing the same conversation every say, bored of knowing exactly how everything is gonna play out before it actually does.

nothing dramatic ever happens to me anymore. hell, i don't even need drama, just something worthy of my time.

but i guess that's healthy. maybe that's what people are supposed to want.

but that's not me.

sometimes i miss the kind of love that ruined my sleep schedule and made me write songs at three in the morning. not sad songs, either.

but the kind that made me feel too much all at once, therefore keeping me up until the latest hours of the night.

the kind that turned stupid little moments into lyrics before they were even over.

late night drives with the windows down. i'm laughing so hard my stomach hurt over something that probably wasn't even funny. i'm sitting on kitchen counters at two in the morning while music played quietly from a speaker.

everything felt louder back then. colors looked brighter. songs sounded better. even being exhausted all the time somehow felt exciting.

there was only one person who made me feel that way.

and unfortunately for me, it's not jack.

i reach over and grab my phone from the nightstand.

mostly just to give myself something to do amidst my boredom.

instagram notifications flood my screen the second it lights up. tagged photos, loads of comments, clips from interviews i forgot aired this week.

i'm so bored in life social media doesn't even do much for me.

i scroll past all of them without really paying attention.

until a barely blurry video of what looks like a concert catches my eye.

the audio is distorted from the crowd screaming over it and the bass from the speakers, the camera shaking so badly that for a second i almost scroll past it.

another clip of some festival that's happening this weekend.

but then the person onstage steps closer to the lights.

and my thumb stills against my screen.

gunner.

like, my ex-boyfriend gunner.

my stomach drops in a way that feels abnormally dramatic.

my brain is too jumbled to properly read the comments, but i catch enough words to understand what's happening.

rolling loud.

new-ish songs.

red hair.

wait, red hair?

my eyebrows pull together slightly as i tap on the video again, this time actually paying attention.

the stage lights flash across him in quick bursts of bright purple, the crowd screaming the second he runs a hand through his hair.

bright fucking red.

for a moment, all i can do is stare.

because suddenly i'm back in his car almost two years ago, my legs thrown over the center console while he drove with one hand resting lazily against my thigh.

the past..

"you should dye your hair a fun color," i said absentmindedly, scrolling through pinterest on my phone.

he laughed. "what, like green?"

"no. something fun."

"fun?"

"yeah, like pink, or maybe red. didn't you have your hair pink before?" i asked.

i can still remember the way he glanced over at me for a second, smiling like the thought i was insane.

"yeah, like a while ago. but it didn't last long," he told me.

he then told me i'd probably be the only person on earth capable of convincing him to go back to having bright colored hair.

the present..

my chest feels strangely tight at the memory.

it's stupid, like so stupid.

the hair probably has nothing to do with me.

logically, i know that.

but i guess logic has never really mattered much when it comes to gunner.

and it's not like he's left my mind since we ended things.

though i don't like to admit it aloud, during every moment with jack, that are all somehow more boring than the ones previous, i can't help but think about gunner, and what i would’ve been doing with him instead.

my thumb hovers over the comments for a second before i close instagram and open tiktok, typing ‘nettspend rolling loud’ into the search without really even thinking about it.

so many clips flood my screen. a few from backstage, blurry videos of the fans who got barricade, and the professional videos taken of his set.

and there’s one specific sight that makes my chest tighten again.

it’s raining and his hair and clothes are wet. he’s looking to the side of the camera, almost looking up. his white shirt is borderline see-through now, but his chain still lies heavy on his neck.

i can’t even lie, he looks so good. different, but good.

i scroll to the next video, this one being taken from what seems to be backstage.

gunners standing with mazzy next to him as someone record the two of them.

“you finally dyed it,” mazzy laughs.

he runs a hand through his hair, grinning a little. “yeah.”

“what made you finally do it?” she asks him.

gunner shrugs.

“got bored.”

something twists unpleasantly in my stomach.

bored?

that’s the exact word i’ve been using to describe my time without him.

it’s almost like we’re still connected by something as simple as that.

but i need to stop - being irrational, i mean.

i have a boyfriend and gunner has a girlfriend.

we’ve been broken up for eight months. eight whole months.

it’s time for me to actually move on from him.

but i can’t.

god, i really can’t.

everything was just so good with gunner, i can’t help but think of him.

and while i may not think of his name in specific, i know i compare my happiness and experiences from now to back then, whether i purposefully do it or not.

which might be unfair.

maybe no relationship was ever going to compare to your first real love. the kind that becomes accidentally stitched into every version of yourself afterward.

i lock my phone and let it fall against my chest with a quiet sigh.

the room feels too warm.

i rip the blanket off of me.

jack stirs beside me again, mumbling something incoherent before he stills.

he looks peaceful.

i envy him for that.

my gaze drifts to the clock on my nightstand.

1:26 am.

for a second, i try to convince myself to put my phone away and go to bed like a normal person.

instead, i pick it up again and open the notes app.

there’s tons of unfinished lyrics. some song titles i’ll never use.

then there’s the note i’m looking for.

it’s untitled.

my stomach tightens the second i click on it.

because unlike everything else i’ve tried writing these past eight months, this one actually made me feel something.

which is ironic, because jack technically is the reason it exists.

and it’s not because he inspired it.

but it’s because being with him made me realize i was still thinking about someone else.

my eyes scan over the unfinished lyrics again, and suddenly the words don’t feel unfinished anymore.

they feel honest, maybe too honest.

the song’s a bit too short, but the perfect ending pops into my head. i quickly type out:

“won’t you walk through

and bust in the door and take me away?

no more mistakes

cause in your eyes i’d like to stay.”

and after reading the lyrics of my song once more, i decide ‘thinking of you’ could be a fitting title.

after typing that at the top and before i could stop myself, i quietly slip out from underneath jack’s arm and sit up in bed.

he doesn’t wake up. of course he doesn’t.

i stand up, pulling on the hoodie hanging over my desk chair before reaching for my car keys as quietly as possible.

a normal girlfriend probably wouldn’t leave her apartment at one in the morning to secretly record a song about her ex-boyfriend.

but i really can’t stop myself.

sorry jack.

____

a/n : hiii everyone new story alert 😈ehhehe im sorry i thought of this while listening to thinking of you and i couldn’t help myself!!!! i got inspo from @trynabespiffy everyone go read her nett fics they are top tier 😩 lmk what u guys think about this!! feel free to send anything thru my inbox or u can message me privately!! likes/reblogs are appreciated <2 love u guyssss

lmk if you want to me tagged in any future nettspend fics