After speaking briefly with his roommate, Nick headed to his room, closing the door behind him. He’d thought about playing his guitar to work through his thoughts, as they were jumbled, and it had been a long night. He picked up the guitar and sat on the edge of the bed, taking a moment to tune the strings before beginning to play an idle tune. The tune shifted as his mind wandered, changing to reflect the nature of said thoughts.
Eventually, he sighed, and set the guitar down on the bed, before putting his head in his hands momentarily, looking up after a few seconds. Ryan had been on his mind a lot for a while now, but more so after he’d gotten the courage and encouragement to reach out. Finally shaking his head, he got up from the bed to retrieve his laptop from the backpack he’d been able to bring with him when he’d fled. Tucking that under one arm, he collected his guitar with the other, and left his room.
There was no sign of Vince that he could see when he exited, and he felt a little relief. Vince had been in a morose kind of mood, and while he understood why, it was not something he wanted to deal with at that moment. Turning to close the door behind him, he fumbled slightly, so he set the guitar down so he could properly close the door, before heading around the corner into what had been set up as his personal recording studio. While his other instruments weren’t there yet, they would be eventually.
He set the guitar in a stand, and then set the laptop down on the desk in the room, before sitting down and opening it. It took a minute or three for it to boot up and get logged in, but once it had done so he pulled up his email program, and began to type.
Ryan,
It began, and then he paused, and sighed, wondering exactly how to begin. There’s a reason drunk texting is easier, he said to himself. He shook his head, sitting and staring blankly at the blinking cursor for several minutes before closing his eyes and rubbing his temples. This isn’t going the way I want it to. He growled slightly in frustration. He was overthinking things, and he knew it. Finally, he came to a decision, closing the email program, and instead pulled up OBS Studio.
He took the time to get his settings to where he liked them. He didn’t normally use OBS on his laptop, but he didn’t have his main computer setup, so this would have to do. What he desperately wanted right now, was some liquid courage, but whiskey was far out of his reach these days. Taking a deep breath, he let it out slowly, pressed record, and began to speak what he’d wanted to put in the email, intending no edits, and letting the emotion run as raw as he could manage, without issue.
“Hey Ryan. Sorry about the video, I hope you don’t mind. I was going to text you, but realized it would probably be longer than any sane text, and didn’t want to risk waking you on top of that. Tried sitting down to an email, then realized I’m not sure what address you’re using these days.”
He smiled, the kind of smile that betrayed a bit of shyness and boyish charm, then continued.
“Sorry, I’m rambling – you know how I can get sometimes. Anyway, I wanted to record this in order to try and get some thoughts out. I’m going to be honest here.”
He took another breath, letting it out slow, fidgeting with his hands a little before continuing.
“I’ve thought about you a lot over the past four or five years, but never reached out because I thought you wanted nothing to do with me.” his voice was a little quiet, but still enough that the microphone could pick him up.
“Rick and Ned never brought you up to me, so I never knew you might be okay reconnecting. Been thinking about you more since I sent you that first text the other day.” he again fidgeted with his hands a little before shoving them into his pockets momentarily, hooking his thumbs in the belt loops of his jeans.
“I’d always hoped you were happy, and doing well, but I was afraid to look into that; to ask about that. I wish I had.”
A small flood of happy memories came to mind just then, and he was silent as they washed over him, a small smile playing on h is face. He had to force himself to take a bit to calm down. He couldn’t risk getting as emotional as he felt right now. Nervously, he continued.
“Your idea of coming to Phoenix…. I’d like that. I want to see you again. I… I miss you. I didn’t realize just how much until I heard your voice again.” It was here his voice betrayed him, cracking a little with emotion.
“Uhh….yeah. Anyway.” he cleared his throat. “I’ve still been working on music. I thought you might like to hear something I wrote.”
At this point, he picked up his guitar. It was an acoustic; old and slightly beaten with age, but taken care of to the best of his ability over the years. He strummed his usual opening chord to ensure it was tuned properly, despite having just played it not long before. Humming a little bit as the opening chords of his song began, he segued into the lyrics themselves. As he sang, he put emotion into his vocals, eventually forgetting his was recording and putting his all into his performance – just like with every performance he did.
The song itself was an acoustic cover of something he’d been meaning to record and layer tracks for, but hadn’t gotten around to yet. The song itself was about feeling lost, and trying to find your way – something he had written while struggling with his alcoholism. It was one of the few things he’d written, and something he considered to be one of his best works.
Upon completion, he blinked, blushed slightly, and smiled. “Whoops.”
He leaned over, setting the guitar down carefully and out of sight, then straightened up and looked back at the camera.
“So, umm….hope you enjoyed that. You’ll have to let me know. I uhhh… haven’t played it for anyone yet. You’re the first.”
He smiled again, though this time it was a happy one, touched with pride. “Anyway, let me know when you’ll be in town, that way we can set up a time to meet. L—uh…looking forward to it.” he added quickly, before smiling and reaching over to stop the recording.
He fought the urge to edit the last part out, instead working on uploading it as a private video. Once it was uploaded, he shut down his laptop, and pulled up the link on his phone, copied it, and sent a text to Ryan.
Was too long to text, so made this for you. Might delete tomorrow, IDK yet…. He finally typed in, after much thought, then pasted the link. His thumb hovered over the send button for what felt like forever, but was actually only several seconds, before he finally pressed it.
Now I just get to be anxious he told himself. He stood and pocketed his phone, before collecting his laptop and guitar so he could head back to his room. On his way there, he sang low, practically under his breath, the chorus to a Tom Petty song:
The waiting is the hardest part
Every day you see one more card
You take it on faith, you take it to the heart
The waiting is the hardest part
Upon getting back to his room, he nudged the door closed with his foot, set the laptop down on a chair, and leaned the guitar against the wall before flopping onto the bed. After a moment, he took the phone out of his pants, then set it on the nightstand, moving aside the book Donovan had gotten him before he did so.
Looking at the book, he figured why not – he had to distract himself until sleep came to claim him anyway – maybe the book would help. He picked it up, thumbing through it briefly before he got to his bookmarked page, and began to read.