You Don't Know You The Way I Do- A Team Starkid Fanfiction

Chapter 3.7

It's hard to believe I have been writing this story for almost a year now. It had twisted and turned more than I ever thought it could. So many plotpoints I worked out at the beginning have changed or gotten completely trashed. But overall, I'm crying right now because of all of the support and reads it still gets. Literally, I'm sitting on my computer with tears rolling down my face. You guys are the best people in this entire world.

Also, you should all go to @hermanonuclosis and read her fanfic. I just finished it to her latest update today and I'm dying because I need to know what happens ASAP. (Ps- Nickey, if you want to tell me, I wouldn't be objected wink wink nudge nudge hump hump) How do you guys like this Lauren/Dylan part? It's hard not to make Dylan the most perfect character ever since he's my favorite. I already know what's happening in next two books down to the very last line. I can't change that just because I completely fell in love with Dylan Saunders. It's hard sometimes to not bias this to the point where it's not what I want to be anymore.

So anyway, here's this chapter. Enjoy, vote and comment away my buttercups!

CHAPTER 3.7; DYLAN'S POV:

Blank pages absolutely suck. They really do. You have all of these ideas swimming through your head and you do everything possible to put them on this piece of paper, but when you do, it sounds like a third grader on crack wrote it.

I suddenly grabbed the paper and crumpled it in my hands, throwing it in the already full trash bin across the room. How could that ever become a lyric? I love you/ you don't smell like poo? How would that ever work? A fucking baby could do better than that!

I rubbed my blistered hands around my eyes. Those little eye crusties were rubbed off and stuck to my cheeks. On a whim of sudden inspiration, I pulled out another sheet of paper from my notebook. "You are always here/ you are the Sandman/ flitting around my eyes/ like a big... like a big... GODDAMMIT!" I yelled, throwing my paper across the room again. What the fuck rhymes with Sandman? Than? Fan? Ban? Even if I do find something good, those lyrics suck!

I stood up, needing air. Rushing to my window, I threw it open, letting the warm breeze hit my face. But that enjoyment only lasted for a few seconds since the wind stopped, making a sticky, still hotness that matched the inside of my bedroom. The sun was just falling, so it would be about an hour until darkness came and relief for my humidity. I wiped sweat off my forehead.

Looking behind at my table, I could barely even think about it. Usually, songs just came so easy to me. I would be humming while brushing my teeth or tapping on the wheel when I drive. I would go home, sit at this table, and crank out a song within a few days. But with the deadline looming for my first song this week, I was freaking out. This writers block was the absolute worst I've ever had.

I've always wanted to do a solo album since I was a little kid. I would always be that person to stand in front of the school in a silly tie and sing an old song in the talent shows. And I loved it. My parents always supported me, and even my sister admitted my voice was alright. I would always scribble little lyrics on the margins of my papers or on desks in school, but never really did anything about it. 

Then Darren reached out to me. When he was visiting Chicago a while ago, he first listened to the cover of Man of Constant Sorrow that Watsky and I did. He asked me if I was interested in an album, and I said yes. We never really talked about it again until he was on his tour. After his show in LA, he pulled me aside from the after party. 

"Hey man, you still thinking about the album?" he asked with a whiskey in his hand, his eyes slightly glossy.

I paused for a moment, trying to remember the conversation from at least a year ago. "Yeah, I mean, I've wanted to do it for a while."