The Hidden Ones: The Spotlight - 9. The Studio

They say the brighter the star, the shorter the life. The more I see from Ryder, the more I get the feeling he’s going to be the brightest star music has seen in a long time. I just hope that old saying is about the stars up in the sky, not the ones here on Earth.

“Teddy!” My uncle’s voice boomed through the phone. “You have to get here ASAP. This kid’s a nut job!”

“What?” I laughed, shooting my dad a weird look as he tried to listen in on the conversation. “What do you mean ‘nut job’?”

“He tore up all the songs the band wrote! And he won’t stop picking fights!”

“Yup, that’s Ryder.” I laughed again. “You said you knew he was going to be a handful. I don’t know…”

“This is more than a handful Theodore!” My uncle scolded, worried I wasn’t taking him seriously. “He’s been bouncing between instruments for 3 hours now! You have to get over here now!”

“Alright, alright.” I groaned while I hung up the phone and rolled my eyes.

“Trouble in paradise?” My dad asked I jumped off the couch and headed towards the basement.

“Apparently Ryder’s pulling a Madonna.” I complained, with a quick shake of my head. “I’ll be back.”

“Good!” My dad exclaimed. “A good musician never compromises his sound for…” his voice trailed off as I quickly ran down the stairs and to my car.

My heart seemed to race faster and faster the closer I got to the recording studio. I’d only ever been there once when I was younger. My uncle’s career had really started to take off and he just wanted to show his family his work. The place isn’t too big, but damn if it doesn’t have some of the best tech in the industry. This is a huge opportunity for Ryder and he could be blowing it all because he can’t take other’s opinions?

As I finally arrived and made my way through the building, I felt my nervousness turn to anger, then back to nervous again. He can’t blow this! He won’t blow this! “Yeah, well, you’re writing was SHIT!” I heard Ryder shout as I walked through the door.

“Teddy!” My uncle exhaled in relief. “Can you please talk some sense into your friend?” The band members angrily stood by watching the frail teen get to work on the piano.

“I don’t need sense.” Ryder dismissed them. “I need a track on the piano, are you going to hit the switch or not?”

“No!” One of the band members stood, obviously frustrated. “We gave you three freakin hours. We don’t even know if this song is going on the EP! We don’t even know if you’re still in the band!”

“Oh this song is going on the EP.” Ryder laughed cockily. “Because your songs are shit!”

I exhaled turning towards my uncle. “How many times did you say he was going to be hard to work with? How many times did you say fighting for your songs in the studio was a good thing?”

“Yes but…”

“Just let him finish this song, and if you don’t like it,” I began as my heart began to race, “you can kick him out of the band.”

There was some grumbling before the band finally agreed to my terms. As my uncle flicked on the piano recording, Ryder began to play a small melody with his right hand. We watched on in confusion as he continued for another 5 minutes before stopping the track, and asking for another one.

“You’ve got to be kidding me!” A band member yelled as Ryder continued the process with his left hand. “I mean this…”

“Let him finish.” I was insistent even though I was nervous that Ryder wasn’t as good as we all had thought.

As the process finally wound down, Ryder stepped back and looked at all the different layers he had created on the nearby computer screen. “Alright, play it back.” He finally gave the band a look at the song stuck in his head.

As the music began, a layer of confusion filled the air. Contradicting sounds and instruments blared out to mix into a song like I had never heard before. It hit you like a punch to the face; but at the same time, the piano and backing vocals he had worked on created a certain lightness to balance it out. There seemed to be other instruments mixed in, but I couldn’t make out what they were exactly.

“Well this is just fucking great!” One of the band members lashed out. “Our singer is fucking crazy! And now we’re back to square one. Except this one tore up all our original music!” He shouted, clearly not convinced by the music.

“Dude,” one of the other members remarked. “I think he’s onto something with this.”

“This sounds crazy.” The original member barked back. “There’s no groove or…”

“If you want catchy, you can make pop music.” Ryder waved his hand dismissively. “I don’t make safe music. This EP’s going to be a punch to the face then a kick to the heart.” He spoke with so much confidence that I could tell the band was slowly falling in line. “We have five short songs that show how elaborate we can be. Don’t sell us short because you want to sound like some generic Taylor Swift bullshit.” I couldn’t help but smile as the real Ryder Sullivan began to bleed through his usually quiet frame. “Who’s the drummer here?”

“Name’s Tommy.” One of the guys raised his hand.

“Get in there and clean up my work,” he ordered. “I want something fast paced that eventually finds its own groove. Nothing crazy loud, just clever.”

“Got it!” Tommy nodded as he went into the recording room and asked my uncle to record him.

“Guitarists?” Ryder continued, not even taking a second to breathe. “Listen to my original riffs and improve them. I need creativity, something wild and stupid crazy. Not that safe sounding shit you wrote before I got here.” He turned towards the only member remaining, the one who was his biggest critic, and stared him down. “Work off the drums and give us that groove you desperately craved.” Finally, he looked towards me and shook his head. “Come with me.” He exhaled, leading me out into the hallway. “Why are you here?” He groaned as he shut the door behind him.

“My uncle said you were going crazy.” I shrugged, observing the intense look on his face. It’s funny, just twenty-four hours ago his eyes were empty and lifeless. Now they’re full of fire.

“So what? Every time he calls you…”

“Drop the act.” I smiled at him as our eyes locked. “It’s me. You don’t need to prove anything.”

He thought over my words before shaking his head. “Why are you still around?”

“What?” I laughed, my smile grew bigger. “I just told you, because my uncle…”

“No,” he interrupted. “After yesterday, you saw…why are you still trying to be my friend?”

“You thought a little depression would scare me off?” I giggled as his eyes dropped. “I told you, I’m here for you.” I took a breath, trying to boost my confidence, and took a step forward and lightly grasped onto his hand. “Like I told your grandma, even if I have to sit and have a one sided conversation for hours, I’m in this for the long run.”

“Yesterday was just the tip of the iceberg.” He shook his head, letting our hands entangle one another. “There are times I’m in bed for days.”

“Then I guess there will be days when I do a lot of talking.” I responded without hesitation. “You really don’t understand the concept of friendship, do you?” I giggled, but could tell he took the question another way.

“Is this friendship?” he asked innocently.

“This is whatever you’re comfortable with.” I took a breath and another step forward. “I wasn’t joking when I called you hot. And I’m not joking when I say I’m here for you.”

“Then I...you have been sending signals?” I nodded my head, glad that he was picking up on them. “But you’ve…you’ve done so much better than me.”

“I haven’t done better, I’ve done safer.” I corrected him. “And well, it’s time to live a little.”

He shook his head in disbelief and let go of my hand. “I…” he started, not sure how to react.

“You have a band to get back to and an EP to record.” I softly smiled at him. “Like I said, whatever you’re comfortable with. If you’re not ready for a boyfriend, then I can just be a friend. I’ve got nothing but time.”

“I…what if I need a few months to focus on this?” He asked. “What if it takes me all summer? What if I’m not ready to date anyone until winter? What if I don’t even like you the way I think I do?”

“So then you like me?” I teased with a smile, in an effort to relieve the tension. He rolled his eyes and nervously bit on his lip. “You’re the only guy on my radar. Take your time. I’ll be here in June, July, August, September…”

“Okay!” He awkwardly interrupted. “But you…you’re Teddy Haner. You’re not even supposed to be talking to me, and now you want to date?” He shook again like he was trying to figure out if it was just another cruel joke. “ I-No,” he decided. “No you don’t.”

“I wore all black Friday,” I began, getting so close he had no choice but to look in my eyes. “I’ve been going to a barn for the past three weeks and listening to music that gives me headaches. I wandered through a cemetery yesterday and frankly, I was scared shitless. I like you Ryder Sullivan.”

He thought it over as I forced my way through another one of his barriers. “What if we just act like boyfriends?” He seemed nervous, like he was afraid to walk onto uncomfortable turf. “We just hangout sometimes, and talk and if things…I…”

“You want to see where things go?” I asked, as he mentally explored dating for the first time.

“Yes.” He cautiously answered me, still not fully trusting what he was hearing.

“Okay.” I nodded. “But that means if your depression isn’t acting up, you have to be at my lacrosse games.”

He let out a long groan but reluctantly nodded his head. “Can this stay between us?”

“Okay.” I agreed with a growing smile. “It’s our dirty little secret.”

He slowly put his hand against my chest and pushed me away. “I already regret this.”

“Oh, come on!” I laughed, holding onto the hand that just pushed me. “It’ll be fun!”

“You’re just going to be cheery and peppy all the time.” He groaned as he realized what it meant to spend a lot of time with me.

“And you’re going to be mopey and sad.” I giggled. “I’m the day, and you’re the night.”

“There’s a reason the two are different times.” He exhaled as he gave his cynical confession. “Just don’t burn me.”

“I won’t.” I comforted his fears. “Besides, you know what comes out at night don’t you?” I smiled, as he shot me a confused look. “Stars!”

“Okay!” Ryder dismissed in a yelp. “No clichés!” he demanded. “They’re copouts to serious answers.” He confidently nodded “Just, I have music to go write. You try not to be so sappy.”

“I’ll see you tomorrow at my house?” I smiled, sneaking in an invitation.

“Don’t count on it.” He muttered when he turned and entered the studio, but I knew he’d make his way over.

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On my way home, I couldn’t help but smile. It’s actually happening! Ryder actually likes me back! I mean, okay, it’s technically just like a hanging out period, but still! That’s kind of dating, right? I mean we don’t really label things anymore right?

As I pulled into the driveway and saw Mike’s car, I felt my smile fade. I like hanging out with him and all, but if there’s anyone who can bring me down from this high, well it’s him.

“Where have you been?” Mike teased, leaning against his car.

“Just had to run an errand.” I shrugged when I climbed out and shot him a confused look. “What’s up?”

“Don’t look so excited to see me.” He joked, giving me a friendly shove as I walked up to him. “I just figured I’d come hang out, you know, that thing we used to do?”

“Oh, don’t be overdramatic.” I laughed, leading him inside. I guess it has been a week or two since we’ve hung out outside of the gym, but what can I say? I was busy!

“Really though,” he began as he followed me up to the living room. “How have you been?”

“Good” I shrugged. “I literally just saw you at the gym two days ago. And we were texting just last night.” I laughed, as I realized what a weird mood he was in. “What’s up with you today? You take a baseball to the head today at practice?”

“Just concerned about you is all.” He shrugged his shoulders, carefully scanning me.

“Hey Mike!” my dad called out as he walked from the kitchen to the stairs.

“Hey Harry, how are you?” Mike greeted like he had a thousand times before.

“Good.” My dad quickly answered, looking from me to him. “Ryder calm down enough to work with the band?”

“Yup.” I quickly nodded, wishing my dad hadn’t brought him up. “Turns out they just needed to let him work.”

My dad nodded his head and slowly began to climb the stairs. “Sometimes you just have to let Picasso paint.”

“What?” I groaned, feeling Mike’s eyes burning a hole in me.

“You know ‘what’,” Mike grumbled. “This isn’t a game Teddy.”

“Good, I didn’t think it was.” I was starting to get frustrated. “Ryder’s my friend.”

“Friend? Teddy. Friend?” Mike continued, obviously not caring what I thought. “Let’s be real here. He’s your pity project. You’re upset because a gay kid gets bullied. I get it, but that’s not your responsibility.”

“You’re right it’s not my responsibility.” I laughed out of anger. “But he’s not my pity project. Is it so hard for you to believe that I actually like him for who he is?”

“Be real for five seconds Teddy. What do you have in common with him?” Mike pushed, as I fell silent. “Does he play lacrosse? Is he an honors student? Does he like pop music? Is he social?” Once more I kept quiet. “The only thing you have in common is that you’re both gay, and I get you don’t want to see another gay kid bullied, but let’s just be real here. You don’t want to be a friend, you want to be a hero.”

“Why do you always have to be such a dick?” I mumbled, keeping my eyes to the ground. “You can never just let me be happy. You always have to try and bring me down.”

“It’s called being realistic.” He happily continued. “You’re a dreamer Teddy. I stick around to make sure you don’t fly too close to the sun.”

“I don’t need a babysitter.” I grunted. “If I want to fly towards the sun, let me fly. Maybe this is what I want and I don’t know how to explain why. Maybe I don’t know why I want to be friends with him.” I reflected. “But that sure as hell doesn’t mean you get to try and intervene. I mean, who am I hurting?”

“Yourself!” Mike exclaimed, trying to get me to look at him. “Some of the guys that were at your last game tried to tell me how you lost your shit on the crowd for making fun of him.”

“I did not ‘lose my shit’.” I corrected. “I set things straight.”

“You lost your shit.” Mike insisted with a nod of his head. “The guys chalked it up to frustration from the loss, but what happens next time? What happens when there’s not something to blame?”

“Then they’ll realize I’m being serious.” I stubbornly pouted. “I’m done trying to please everyone. From now on I’m doing what I want.”

“No, you’re not.” Mike got up and patted me on the head. “Pretty soon you’ll stab Ryder in the back, and rejoin us on the rational side, except I’ll be stuck doing all the cleaning.”

“I will..”

“It’s happened before, it’ll happen again.” Mike shrugged. “You always try to commit social suicide, but at the last second come crawling back to me. This time won’t be any different.” He decided, shutting the basement door behind him.

This isn’t just a trend. Right now, I don’t care about what everyone at Hudson thinks about me. Right now, I care about building my relationship with Ryder Sullivan. I have one shot at him before he begins to blast into fame, and I won’t ruin it.