The sun had begun to sink even lower in the sky, the last little bits of light that had once streamed through the window were now fading quickly.
Dark shadows appeared on the interior walls of the studio, cascading over the hunched musician in the corner.
Y/n had rented a house with a studio, near the ocean, to work on some new tracks outside of her home, a rare occurrence for the typical homebody. She'd gone to escape for awhile, promising Camila that she'd take care of herself and that she would be home by the end of the week.
The trial against Isabella would begin in six months, an ever present thought on the producer's mind ever since she'd spoken with her lawyer a little over two months ago.
Camila had tried talking with her about it, but Y/n had brushed her off.
Y/n knew that she was once again stuffing her pain back into the locked chest within her heart, but she most certainly was not ready to meet her ex face to face in front of a courthouse.
She was also not looking forward to going into the intimate details of their two year relationship in front of her current girlfriend and a jury.
Y/n had told Camila a lot of what had happened, but her lawyer warned that she would also have to talk about the good memories; no matter how few and far between they had been.
The producer jotted down phrase after phrase, before reading it and angrily balling up the pieces of paper; throwing them onto the growing pile near the trash can.
For the first time since her return to the spotlight, she'd been hit with a wall; blocked by her own mental state and somehow unable to let out her feelings.
It was exasperating.
Y/n threw her pen against the foamed covered wall, slamming her notebook shut with a frustrated groan. Everything she wrote didn't sound good enough; every instrumental sounding like it was lacking.
The musician had told the one other producer she'd let come with her that week to go home. In all honesty, she felt her frustrations growing and didn't necessarily want anyone on the receiving end of her anger. She would only stay a little longer and write more, because they had needed at least five tracks. But they'd only managed to pen four.
Y/n was shaken out of her thoughts when her phone began buzzing on the piano bench next to her, Camila's contact popping up on the screen.
The artist took a deep breath, trying to dissipate any residual irritation and answered, "Hello?"
"Hey baby, I know you're working and I didn't want to bother you, but the realtor called me a few minutes ago. We got the house!"
Camila's excitement was obvious through the phone, and Y/n cracked a smile at the adorable thought of the brunette hopping up and down.
Her own heart filled with joy at the unexpected good news and she stood up, the piano bench pushing back with a loud squeak.
"Wow, baby! That's amazing! Did she say when we can move in?"
"The house is already cleared out and I can have the moving company come pack up our stuff this coming week."
Y/n grinned, cradling the phone between her shoulder and cheek, "I'm so happy you called me about this. To be honest with you today hasn't been a great day."
"What happened?" Camila's voice sounded concerned and the producer's heart sank a little knowing that she'd obviously worried her girlfriend.
"Oh, I'm okay! There's no need to worry or anything. I've just hit a writer's block, that's all." Y/n tried to sound nonchalant, ignoring the fact that before Camila had called, she'd been ready to fling her notebook and pen into the ocean below.
"Oh, I'm sorry babe." The brunette responded sympathetically, "I know you're probably having a hard time right now. Do you need me to come to you?"
"No! I don't want to disrupt your studio schedule. I know your album is releasing soon and plus, I'm fine."
Y/n heard some shuffling on the line and a small sigh escape her girlfriend's lips. It was silent for a few moments and she pulled her phone away from her ear and glanced at the screen, making sure they hadn't been disconnected.
"I love you, Y/n. Don't shut me out. I know you're having a rough time right now with the trial coming up. It's okay to not be fine."
Y/n paused, letting her breath hit the receiver as she went to pick up her pen from the ground. She didn't want to worry Camila, but maybe her closed off nature was hurting the Cuban more than just telling her the truth.
But on the other hand, Y/n had always been an inherently closed off person. Her own thoughts belonged to her and it was difficult surrendering even a minuscule amount of them without the protection of instruments.
"I promise, I'm fine. I love you too." The artist responded quickly, wanting to cut the conversation before it went south.
Camila relented, not saying another word about the trial, and the two women made small talk until the brunette had to leave.
Y/n put her phone in her pocket, heading downstairs to grab a bottle of water from the fridge and a snack. She leaned against the counter, popping one almond into her mouth as she looked around the large living space.
As Y/n scanned the rustic interior, her eyes landed on a picture frame sitting on an end table in the furthest corner of the room. She hadn't noticed it when she'd arrived earlier that week, or she may have put it away for the remainder of her stay.
'Here's To Your Perfect Day!'
Y/n snorted into her water bottle, sarcasm dripping from the words as she read them out loud to herself.
The entire week at the rental home, she'd been unable to get Isabella out of her thoughts. Bitterness and resentment towards the other woman had festered inside her heart, growing into a compact ball of insecurity.
The ball had formed a small wedge between her and Camila as of late, an unfortunate byproduct of Y/n's confusion and lack of communication. She knew that sometimes things were better left unsaid and untouched, but her desire for some form of closure was starting to outweigh the negatives.
The artist glanced at the frame once more and lifted her water bottle to it in a mock toast, "Here's to your perfect, Isabella. Go to hell."
She gulped down the remainder of her water, pausing when an idea struck her. Y/n sprinted back upstairs, scooping up her notebook and grabbing one of the pens out of the holder.
But now I know a perfect way to let you go
Give my last hello, hope it's worth it
Here's your perfect
The singer hummed out a few of the lines, trying her best to find a suitable key on the baby grand. Her fingers skimmed over the ivory keys, coming to rest on an 'F' chord, allowing the notes to ring out underneath her vocals.
Y/n continued jotting down phrases rapidly, the black ink carving out her thoughts onto the white sheets.
She worked all night writing the rest of the lyrics and laying out each of the instrumental tracks individually, and by the time the sun rose, a brand new song had been downloaded onto a demo tape.
Y/n excitedly packed and put her luggage into the back of her Range Rover.
As she put the key in the ignition, she paused and took out her phone. The artist had originally been heading to the record label to show her team the new song, but she'd just been struck with a better idea.
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The drive to Epic Record's building was slow; the mid-morning Los Angeles traffic creating a small funnel for only one lane of cars to squeeze through instead of the usual four. Y/n hit her steering wheel in irritation, truthfully considering purchasing a house far away from the smog filled and crowded county.
It took her another couple of hours, but she finally reached the brown colored building on Wilshire Boulevard.
Y/n pulled into a parking space and hopped out, pushing open the heavy glass doors and relishing the rush of ice cold air hitting her face.
Roger rushed out of the elevator towards her, a Bluetooth headset stuck on his head and a clipboard cradled under one arm.
"Hey! Welcome back to civilization! You said you had something you wanted to show Camila?"
"Yeah, I just finished writing a song at like two in the morning, and I want her opinion." Y/n followed the man into an open elevator.
Exiting the elevator and walking past the rows of studio doors, they entered the one at the end of the hall. Y/n greeted Scotty, hugging him quickly and brushing away the fatigue that was slowly starting to creep into her body.
Camila was behind the glass, singing softly into the microphone with her eyes closed, unaware of the new visitor. The brunette wasn't shaken from her trance until the instrumental cut out suddenly and she glanced around, eyes widening when they landed on Y/n.
"Baby!"
Y/n chuckled, preparing herself as Camila's petite body came barreling out of the recording room and crashed into her own.
"Hey, Angel."
The singer nuzzled her face into the brunette's hair, holding her up by her thighs. Camila clutched onto her neck and squeezed her legs tighter around the other woman, clinging on for dear life.
"I missed you so much. You're not allowed to leave me again for awhile." The Cuban leaned back with a pout and Y/n laughed, kissing it away softly.
"So, what are you doing here? I thought you weren't coming home until later tonight?" Her manicured eyebrows knitted together in confusion.
"I have something I want to show you." Y/n signaled to the other two men and they nodded, leaving the room to get some lunch.
She took Camila's hands in her own and led the smaller woman to the couch to sit down. Y/n took a deep breath, opening up her laptop and getting the song ready.
"I know how frustrating I've been for the past couple of months. I don't mean to shut you out, but I do and I'm sorry. It's just...I didn't feel like I had closure from what happened, so I wrote something...about Isabella."
Y/n took a deep breath staring into the chocolate pools studying her face, "I wanted you to be the first person who heard it."
"Y/n, baby, I-" Camila started, but stopped when the producer put her hand on her leg and looked at her. She gave her a look, silently asking the brunette to let her continue.
"After I finished writing, it was like a weight had been lifted from my chest. I've only ever talking about how I felt during the relationship, but never how I felt after it."
Camila rested her hand on Y/n's arm as the singer spoke. She couldn't help but feel touched that Y/n wanted her to be the first to hear such a vulnerable song.
Any doubts she had prior to this moment were washed away as she watched her girlfriend turn to start the song.
I remember the day
Even wrote down the date, that I fell for you
And now it's crossed out in red
But I still can't forget if I wanted to
And it drives me insane
Think I'm hearing your name, everywhere I go
But it's all in my head
It's just all in my head
Y/n closed her eyes as she thought back to the first month finally alone in her own home after the breakup. She'd been a wreck, emotionally and physically; barely ever getting up before three in the afternoon, and staying up until six the next morning staring up at the ceiling and drinking.
But you won't see me break, call you up in three days
Or send you a bouquet, saying, "It's a mistake"
Drink my troubles away, one more glass of champagne
And you know
She remembered all of the texts and calls she'd stopped herself from making. Jay had helped eventually weaned her away from drowning her sorrows in bottles every night, and a new feeling had begun to take over. Instead of sadness, she'd felt rage; and instead of feeling like she'd done something wrong, she finally understood that it wasn't her fault.
I'm the first to say that I'm not perfect
And you're the first to say you want the best thing
But now I know a perfect way to let you go
Give my last hello, hope it's worth it
Here's your perfect
Camila's empathetic eyes glanced towards Y/n as the first chorus faded out. She could hear a distinct crack in her girlfriend's voice when she sang 'here's your perfect', and goosebumps appeared on her forearms.
My best was just fine
How I tried, how I tried to be great for you
I'm flawed by design and you loved to remind me
No matter what I do
But you won't see me break, call you up in three days
Or send you a bouquet, saying, "It's a mistake"
Drink my troubles away, one more glass of champagne
And you know
I'm the first to say that I'm not perfect
And you're the first to say you want the best thing
But now I know a perfect way to let you go
Give my last hello, hope it's worth it
Here's your perfect
The song faded from the speakers and Y/n turned towards Camila with a raise of her eyebrow.
"So, what do you think?" She asked nervously, worried that the song may have been a little too much.
"It's absolutely incredible, babe. I'm so proud of you." Camila engulfed her in a hug, peppering her face with kisses.
A genuine smile spread across the producer's face and she pulled away from the brunette for a moment. Y/n attached the song with a message in an email, and with one click, it was sent off to her label for deliberation of a release date.
"Let's go home."