That's How You Write a Song

I knocked on Marco’s door. A few crashes and thumps later, the door swung open. Marco was standing there, wearing nothing but a white bathrobe. His hair was still wet, and water droplets glistened on his skin.

“Should I come back later?” I asked, worried that I may have come at a bad time.

He gently reached forward, grabbed my shirt, and slowly pulled me inside. He shut the door and pushed me against the now-closed door. “I’m not letting you go anywhere.” He said as I swallowed. Seeing him in the bathrobe, I could see just make out his muscles through the gaps.

He leaned in close and began to kiss me passionately. I made some small squeaking noises as he did this. After a few moments, he pulled back. I was panting, trying to catch my breath. His kissing left me completely breathless.

He smiled. “Come in.”

He grasped my wrist and slowly led me into the room. It was spacious, much larger than the joint room I shared with Darcy. I suppose these were the perks of not being on a budget and being one of the ‘Big Five’.

“Do you want anything to drink?” He asked me as he showed off his mini fridge. Gee, he was flexing. I would have been jealous if I wasn’t so madly in love with him.

“Nah, I’m good,” I replied.

“Are you thinking of doing the same thing as me?”

“What were you thinking?”

“I want to make a song with you.” He whispered as he pushed me onto the bed.

“What? You mean tonight?” I asked as I was pinned beneath him. He nodded. His bathrobe parted slightly, and I could see his six-pack. The only six-pack I had seen before his were in magazines and at the bottle-o.

He leaned in slowly, breathing along my neck until he whispered, “I want to make a song with you.”

Woah, don’t you think that’s a little quick? Shouldn’t we have some tea and a chat first? Like, I’m not opposed to it. But to go straight into songwriting, it seemed a little quick.

“Hold on, I haven’t ever written a song with another artist before. I don’t know if I was mentally prepared,” I nervously replied, trying to avoid his eyes.

“That’s alright.” He slid his hands across mine. “I’ll lead the process.”

He backed up a bit, and I sat up. He wandered over and pulled up a chair at the desk. I watched him as he came back after this, and… wait? What?

He scooped me up. I mean, I didn’t weigh much, but to scoop me up like that. It was embarrassing. He walked over to the desk while I was somewhat flailing. Once he reached the desk, he plonked me down softly on the chair.

“You can get started,” he said, and I gulped as I reached for a pencil on the desk along with some pieces of paper. “I’m going to change into something more comfortable.”

I began to scribble down some things, but I knew they weren’t very good. For some reason, I was too distracted.

A couple of minutes later, Marco returned wearing his pyjamas, a singlet and some shorts that showed off everything. Seeing the size of his legs made me self-conscious about my scrawny body.

“Is this alright?” I asked. I had scribbled down a few notes but to be honest I was too distracted to write anything good.

He leaned closer; I thought he was going to read what I had written, but instead, he bit my ear.

“W-what was that for?” I asked, swinging around to face him as I turned bright red.

“You were too cute,” he laughed. He glanced at what I had written. “I’m going to put some words in. Is that alright?” He whispered. I was a little nervous, but I nodded.

The way he gripped the pencil from behind me made me yelp.

“Not so hard; it’s my first time writing with someone else,” I whimpered; his grip was so tight.

“It’ll only hurt for a moment.” It was true. I was getting used to his hand on mine now. The initial resistance seemed to alleviate, and I could begin to enjoy the writing process.

As the song-making flowed. Our two collective minds were united in one.

As we penetrated deeper into the lyrics, I couldn’t help but let out a whimper. How was Marco such a strong writer? Had he written with others before? Was that how he was so good? If so, I didn’t like it. I was jealous. Marco made eye contact with me and stopped writing.

“What’s wrong? Are you not enjoying it?” Marco asked.

“How come you are so good at this? Have you written with someone else before?”

“Why do you ask?” He asked, his expression serious.

I was a little nervous to tell him, but I knew he wouldn’t drop otherwise. A healthy relationship relies on healthy discussions.

“I’ve never written with another person before. I was saving my first time for you.”

“What about your band?”

“We are a band, a single artist. We never collaborated with anyone else. As a solo artist, I hadn’t ever imagined anyone other than you as my first time.” I responded. My heart was beating faster.

Marco listened to my concerns but then smiled.

“I’ve never written with anyone else before either. I just spent a long time imagining my first time writing a song with you. All the times I was alone, I was practising for this very moment.”

He picked up the pace of writing. The way the pencil moved while songwriting caused strain I had never experienced before. I knew it would leave me sore in the morning. But in this moment of passionate song-making, I didn’t care.

That night, we were one. We wrote into the early hours of the night. I have no idea how we wrote so much. I guess it shows how experienced Marco was. I was reliant on his lead. The passion expressed in the lyrics was overflowing, and we got a little carried away. I would be sore in the morning.

─── ༻ ☼ ༺ ───

End of Chapter 6