#wickenweek

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PART 1 – DAMN ENGINEER

You are so dead, Sinclair.

After she had declared she was ready to hit the studio to record her second album, her producer put in a few of his people on her team. He had worked magic on her debut album and pushed for a chance for her to record a song for a big-hit film, which resulted in her becoming the youngest Original Song Oscar winner in fifty-two years, so she trusted his judgement. Well, not anymore. 

His sound engineer is a major pain in the arse, always in her space, constantly proposing adjustments. The most annoying part is, he’s got a point, he’s doing it to help her. He’s always pushing her higher, further. To be more. To be brave, vulnerable, herself.

And he isn’t bad to look at either. Damn. Damn engineer.

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PART 2 – LET’S GET OUR STOICHIOMETRY ON

They’re halfway through recording the album when she gets tired of fighting whatever it is that’s going on between them. It’s exhausting and messes with her concentration anyway. She might as well get it out of her system.

Of course, it isn’t just something she can get out of her system with a one-time thing. And she’s surprisingly okay with that. To go home with him after a long and stuffy day in the studio, burn off her worries and insecurities all over his apartment wrapped around his body, to wake up in his arms and go through their morning routines together.

Being with him provides her with the one constant, reliable thing in her life. But she isn’t stupid. She isn’t naive. In her experience, people always leave. She hasn’t forgotten. Yet, she can still hope. In her music, she can still hope. The one place she lets her guard down.

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PART 3 – RAVEN’S HAVEN

Following the release of her album, she avoids him. Keeps busy by catching up with her friends and visiting family. She’s hiding in her uncle and aunt’s garage, tinkering on her old radio, when suddenly her vision is obscured. Her own face stares back at her through a prism filter and a mask of stars. She looks up. He’s here. He’s here, in her childhood hideaway. Her haven, her sacred sacred innocent haven where nobody leaves and nobody dies. He doesn’t say anything, just removes her headphones and leans in for a kiss.

Too soon, he breaks away, leaving her hanging, wanting more, wanting in. He breaks away to grab her other self, her self splayed across pages of glossy paper. He breaks away to thumb through the album packaging, thumbs thumbs all the way to the end. He reads over the lines, again and again. He looks up and smirks that smirk. She knows why, can recite the words by heart. 

He leans back in, smiles, kisses her. “I love you.”

And the booklet on her workbench is all but forgotten, the whole album that is drenched with his image, his presence and his influence. The thank you notes in which for once she lifted her protection cloak and put her heart on the line.

Raise Raven – It Won’t Survive Me thank you notes

And to that damn engineer, my answer is yes. Always yes.

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PART 4 – PLEASE DON’T LEAVE ME HERE

The flashing cameras, shouting questions, throngs of people she doesn’t know and doesn’t care about, the dress she was forced into wearing and not to forget the death-traps called shoes suffocate her, all close in on her. She doesn’t like all the attention. She just wants to make music. Without having to doll up, for this is so not her. She’s low-key and low-maintenance in jeans and oversized shirts. What is she doing here? She shouldn’t be here. She should be in…

“Hey.”

And she is pulled back to Earth, back to the moment. Back to here, back to him, and her, them.

He keeps the nerves and insecurities at bay with his tragic jokes until her category is called up. When her name comes up among the nominations, he lets out the loudest whoop-whoop and kisses her full on the mouth. The audience laughs and chuckles as they see them on the big screen.

But she doesn’t care. She doesn’t care. Because the man next to her leans in and whispers in her ear: “I love you.” She doesn’t care, until…

“And the award for Best Album goes to…Raise Raven, It Won’t Survive Me.”

She looks up at the screen in disbelief, not believing it’s her name announced as the winner. In dazed autopilot mode, she turns to the man next to her; he is glowing with pride and bears a face-splitting smile. She tears up just looking at him, quickly hiding her face in his neck before kissing him briefly too briefly.

He lingers a little longer, giving her an extra dose of confidence. “Go knock ‘em dead, babe. Fly, soar cloud-high.”

She keeps it brief, professional, thanks her team, before she searches for him in the crowd. “And last but not least, you were right. You were right all along. Empirical evidence doesn’t lie, and you do have great follow through. This is for my damn engineer who opened my ears and my eyes. And my heart. Thank you. And Kyle, please come get me now, please don’t leave me here.”

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