Finding My Voice

The files arrived just after noon.

Lyrics. Instrumentals. A neatly labeled folder with my name on it, like proof that this was no longer hypothetical.

I stared at the screen for a long time before opening anything.

This wasn’t just another song. This wasn’t something I could quietly release and move past if it didn’t land. This would be heard. Compared. Measured.

I swallowed hard.

For the first time, the collaboration stopped feeling like a gift… And started feeling like a test.

I finally clicked the folder open.

The instrumental filled the room first.

Soft, deliberate, nothing flashy. It gave too much space. Space to be heard. Space to fail.

Then I read the lyrics.

They weren’t difficult.

That was the problem.They asked for control. Restraint. The same word Akane had used. The same thing I’d spent years wondering if I had too much of.

I hummed the melody under my breath, testing it, careful not to commit. My voice sounded unfamiliar, like it belonged to someone braver.

Halfway through, I stopped.

My throat tightened, not from strain, but from the sudden fear that this version of me wasn’t enough.

Every time I listened, something felt wrong. I couldn’t name it, just a small discomfort that refused to leave. Each recording blurred into the next, the same melody looping until it started to feel foreign.

At some point, I wondered if I was just overthinking it.

After nearly an hour of attempts that went nowhere, I stopped. My voice felt strained, and pushing any further would only make things worse.

I poured myself some warm water and sat down, letting the silence settle.

That’s when the thought crossed my mind.

My grip on the glass loosened slightly as the idea sank in, like my hands already knew something I wasn’t ready to admit.

I kind of wished he was here-

The thought surprised me enough that I frowned at the screen.

What am I even thinking?

Up until now, I’d done everything on my own. I’d learned to push myself forward because no one else would. So why did the idea of someone else being there feel… comforting?

Seeing him last night was nice. Calmer than I expected.

As my thoughts drifted back to him, a warm, unfamiliar feeling settled in my chest, soft and steady. Cliché, maybe, but there was no better way to describe it.

We hadn’t known each other long. Just a few conversations, a few moments shared. And yet, in that short time, I’d seen something genuine in him. The kind of sincerity you don’t come across often, especially not in my world.

I couldn’t explain it, not properly. The feeling of not knowing someone well, but still feeling drawn to them.

And this wasn’t some teenage crush I could brush off as hormones or fantasy.

I was an adult. I knew what I wanted. Or at least… I thought I did.

After that, I tried recording again for another hour or so. It wasn’t perfect, but it was better than before and more importantly, I felt better. Less stuck. Less afraid of my own voice.

The studio session was only a week away now. Close enough that I couldn’t afford to hesitate anymore. If I was going to do this, I had to give it everything I had.

Thanks to Minori, I ended up spending more time with Issei at university. We’d grab lunch together between classes, nothing special.

It helped more than I wanted to admit.

Being around him eased the edge of my nerves, gave my thoughts somewhere else to land instead of spiraling around the upcoming recording. With him, anticipation didn’t feel so sharp.

The more I saw him, the more his sincerity stood out. He didn’t seem to wear a version of himself for different people. No façades.

That kind of honesty was rare.

Most people, especially in this industry, learned early how to hide. Smiling to your face while sharpening something behind your back. It was almost expected. A rule you either adapted to or got crushed by.

Music wasn’t gentle. It was survival. A place where one misstep could erase years of effort.

That was why so many disappeared before they ever reached a real stage.

And maybe… that was why someone like Issei felt so grounding. So different from the world I’d been trying to survive in for years.

(IN ANOTHER QUIET APARTMENT)

Issei leaned back against the couch, staring up at the ceiling like it might answer him.

“Yeah… that was stupid,” he muttered. “I should’ve asked.”

The room was silent except for the faint hum of traffic outside. Too much space for thoughts.

He wasn’t the type to let things linger. He’d never been good at pretending feelings didn’t exist. If something mattered, he faced it, awkward or not.

Dragging things out only made them heavier.

And this… this already felt heavy.

Meeting her almost every day over the past month hadn’t diluted the feeling. If anything, it had sharpened it. The more time they spent together, the more he noticed the small things.

The way she listened carefully before speaking, how her eyes softened when she laughed, how tired she sometimes looked without ever complaining.

“I want to know more about her,” he said quietly, the words landing more honestly than he expected. “Not just… the surface stuff.”

He shifted, elbows resting on his knees.

“I want to know her world. The parts she doesn’t talk about.”

There was a pause. Then he let out a breath, half a laugh.

“And yeah,” he added, rubbing the back of his neck, “she’s really pretty. Way out of my league if I’m being honest.”

He didn’t sound bitter. Just realistic.

“She meets so many people. Important people. If I keep standing on the sidelines like this, I’m just going to blend into the crowd.”

The thought unsettled him more than rejection ever could.

He straightened slightly, resolve creeping in.

“I don’t want to be someone she forgets.”

END CHAPTER-7