Minimal. | A novel |

2

                                  "𝐒𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐬 𝐝𝐨𝐧'𝐭 𝐬𝐩𝐞𝐚𝐤, 𝐘𝐞𝐭 𝐨𝐮𝐫𝐬 𝐬𝐩𝐨𝐤𝐞 𝐟𝐥𝐮𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐥𝐲." 

                                                                       𝐏𝐞𝐫𝐫𝐲 𝐏𝐨𝐞𝐭𝐫𝐲

 "So what do you do for fun?" Noah asks and gives me an expectant look. "Oh, I mostly just focus on my music with what extra time I have. I can show you the studio if you want? I have to put my guitar back anyways." I say and stand up, handling the guitar by it's neck. Noah nods and follows me up the stairs. "It's over here." I say and open a door next to my room. Noah lets out a sound somewhere between awe and shock. "You must be pretty serious about your music?" I shrug, trying to hide my smile. "You could say that." I set my Strat on the seat in the booth and turn to face Noah. 

"Well this place is really.. professional looking. Can I hear some of your music?" Noah sits down on the couch next to the circuit board. I hesitate, looking between the booth and Noah and back again. "S-sure, uh, just let me find my, uh, notes..?" I stutter, rummaging through drawers. "Hey, what's this?" Noah asks, pointing to a paper taped on the wall. My eyes widen and I rush over, trying to find my notes of the soon-to-be-released song. 

"Oh that's- um.. oh, that's a lyric idea my mom came up with for me." I hesitate, trying to hide my tears and laugh it off. Noah looks at me and registers my facial expression. His smile fades and he puts a hand on my shoulder. "Oh, I'm sorry I shouldn't have-" I turn away, embarrassed I'm still showing emotion after the accident. "No, no, It's.. it's fine. I uh," I struggle to find words and rummage through papers on the keyboard. 

I pull out an old draft of a song I wrote months ago and quickly gather the rest of the music, hoping that the new music is somewhere in the heaping pile in my hands. I shove the papers into a drawer next to Noah and grab a pair of headphones from the circuit board, handing them to Noah. "Brace yourself." I say jokingly and watch as he slips the headset over his head. 

I explain how the volume and other keys work on the control panel and enter the booth, my own headphones securely on my head. Lifting the guitar above my head, I take a seat on the stool and adjust the mic infront of my face. "Clear?" I ask and hear my voice through the headphones. Noah looks as if he were trying to say something but forgets the booth is soundproofed from the outside. "You have to press the orange button to talk, y'know." I say and giggle. Noah turns red and runs his fingers over the buttons, trying to find the mic. He presses the button once and tries to talk, the mic registering for a second before cutting out. 

I shake my head and laugh, "Hold it in." He lets out what looks like a long "oh" and holds the button in, making eye contact when he speaks. "Whenever you're ready, Augs." I blush at the nickname and scowl at him, adjusting the strap around my shoulder. "Rightey-o" I render, holding the paper out at arms length before setting it on the stand. I begin fingering the chords out on the guitar and try to build up the courage to sing. 

What if I sound weird? What if he thinks the songs dumb? What if he realizes I'm Minimal? I shake my head and push the thoughts away. Just focus on the song. And I do. I repeat the intro again and become fully submerged in the song. Before I know it, I'm singing. 

When I finish, Noah's looking at me with an expression of what looks like shock. I exit the booth, tripping over the amp cord on my way out, and come face to face with Noah. "That was- fantastic! At first I thought you weren't going to do it but then you just really got into it! And your voice- oh my gosh- wow you sound just like someone I just can't think of them now-" I blush and watch as Noah throws his hands around while talking. "Thanks, It's really nothing." I breathe. I've never really talked to someone about my music, let alone played music for them. Besides my dad, of course. But I always just believed he was only saying it was good because he's my father, it's his obligation. Yet again, maybe Noah feels obligated to say my performance was good. 

I steal a glace at Noah and see that he is looking at me in awe, as if he didn't know how to put his emotions to words. "Nothing? That's not nothing! That's like saying the earth is flat! Which it's not, but still. It's- It's- erroneous! It's untrue! As a matter of fact, you're so talented it makes me offended!" Noah seems to spill over with compliments and exaggerations. I shake my head with a giggle and head for the door. "C'mon, don't want your parents to think I kidnapped you."