Chapter 2: First Notes
Kael woke to the sound of his phone buzzing against the nightstand, the screen glowing with a notification he didn't bother to check. Sunlight spilled through the blinds, harsher than yesterday, as if the world was impatient for him to move. He groaned, rubbing his eyes, the weight of last night's epiphany settling like a half-remembered dream. The notebook lay open on his bed, pages scrawled with messy chords and fragmented lyrics. The guitar leaned against the wall, no longer forgotten.
He reached for his earphones and played Echoes of Somewhere again. The song hit just as hard, but now it felt less like a revelation and more like a challenge. Veyl's voice seemed to whisper: What are you going to do about it? Kael's fingers twitched, itching to pick up the guitar, but doubt crept in. He hadn't played in years. What made him think he could create something even half as good?
His phone buzzed again, this time a message from his friend Mira: "You alive? Or still hibernating?" Kael smirked. Mira was the only person who bothered checking on him, probably because she was too stubborn to let him fade into his own apathy. He typed back a vague "Alive. Sorta." and tossed the phone aside.
The guitar stared at him. With a sigh, Kael grabbed it and sat on the edge of his bed, the wood cool against his palms. He plucked a string, wincing at the flat note. Tuning it took longer than it should have, his fingers clumsy, but he pushed through. He tried to recall the chords from Veyl's song, humming the melody under his breath. His first attempt was awful—stilted, off-key, nothing like the fluid emotion he'd heard. Frustration flared, tempting him to quit, but he caught himself. Not this time.
Hours slipped by, the city's hum fading as Kael lost himself in the process. He didn't notice the hunger gnawing at his stomach or the ache in his fingertips. He looped Echoes of Somewhere on his phone, dissecting it, scribbling notes. The song's structure was deceptively simple—verse, chorus, bridge—but its power came from subtle shifts in rhythm and tone. Kael wanted that. He wanted to make something that felt alive.
By late afternoon, he had a rough progression: a few chords that echoed Veyl's melancholy but with his own spin, sharper, almost defiant. He hummed a melody over it, words forming in his mind. Nothing polished, just raw fragments:
"Caught in static, breaking free / Sound's the only thing I see…"
It wasn't great, but it was his. For the first time in years, Kael felt a flicker of pride. He grabbed his phone and recorded a shaky clip—thirty seconds of guitar and his hesitant voice. Listening back, he cringed. It was messy, unrefined, but there was something there. A spark.
His phone pinged again. Another message from Mira: "Yo, you're acting weird. Spill." Kael hesitated, then sent her the clip with a single word: "Listen." He regretted it instantly. What if she laughed? Mira wasn't cruel, but she was honest—brutally so. He paced the room, waiting for her reply, his stomach twisting.
Ten minutes later, his phone lit up. "Kael, what the HELL? This is YOU? It's… kinda dope. Rough, but dope. Since when do you make music?" Relief flooded him, followed by a grin he couldn't suppress. Mira's approval meant more than he'd expected. She followed up: "Post it. Like, on SoundSphere or something. Bet people would vibe."
Kael froze. Post it? Online? The idea was absurd. He wasn't ready. The clip was barely a demo, and he wasn't Veyl, some mysterious artist with a single perfect track. But Mira's words stuck with him, and the thought of someone—anyone—hearing his work sent a thrill through him. What if he could reach someone the way Veyl had reached him?
He opened SoundSphere, the app where he'd found Veyl's track. Creating an account took seconds: username "KaelVibe," no profile pic, no bio. His hands shook as he uploaded the clip, titling it "Untitled (First Try)." He added a tagline, half-joking: "Just messing around." Then, before he could overthink it, he hit publish.
The moment it went live, Kael felt exposed, like he'd shouted into a void. He refreshed the page obsessively, expecting nothing. Five minutes later, a single listen. Then two. A comment popped up: "Yo, this is raw. Keep going." His heart leapt. Another comment: "Needs polish, but I'm feeling it." By evening, the clip had twenty listens and a handful of likes. Small, but real.
Kael leaned back, staring at the ceiling. The city's noise filtered in again, but it felt different now—like it was part of his rhythm. He didn't know where this was going, but for once, he wanted to find out. Somewhere out there, Veyl's song still echoed, and Kael was answering.
To be continued…
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