𝐁𝐄𝐒𝐓 𝐅𝐑𝐈𝐄𝐍𝐃'𝐒 𝐁𝐑𝐎𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐑, matt sturniolo

𝒙𝒙𝒙𝒗. finality

..⃗. 🧃 •̩̩͙⁺゜⤾·˚ ༘ ➷̈
𝗕𝗘𝗦𝗧 𝗙𝗥𝗜𝗘𝗡𝗗'𝗦 𝗕𝗥𝗢𝗧𝗛𝗘𝗥  ━━━━  𝗖𝗛𝗔𝗣𝗧𝗘𝗥 𝗧𝗛𝗜𝗥𝗧𝗬 𝗙𝗜𝗩𝗘
( FINALITY ) ࿐ ࿔*:･ﾟ

AMY WAS SEATED in front of the keyboard in her room. After she spent multiple relentless hours learning the guitar from Spencer and some random YouTube videos online, she figured she was ready for a new instrument. She's been playing the keyboard every day since her dad bought one for her in New York. She bought another to keep in her room shortly after she came back to Boston.

         Every night since then, she would be on FaceTime with Matt and she'd play a song she's learned for him while he was doing God knows what: playing video games, eating dinner, before filming a video, or simply just watching her with complete adoration in his eyes. When the song ends, he'd clap for her — even if she messed up in the middle of the song and was about to start over. Sometimes in the middle of the night, if he really tried to listen, he could faintly hear the soft sounds of the keyboard playing from her room all the way next door.

         Most of the comments and DMs Amy has been getting recently are all about a hypothetical album she should release. She knows this is what she wanted. Just like most children, she too has dreamed of and pretended to be a popstar in the comfort of her bedroom. And even five months ago, she had the whole conversation of becoming one with Spencer. With everyone practically demanding a song from her, she was assured that people other than the triplets would listen to what she has to say. She was a bit overwhelmed, but it was with gratitude.

However, Amy wasn't the best songwriter. She's always had a way with words, and it was proven when she would continuously earn the highest grades on her english essays. But it wasn't enough to convey what she thinks into songs. She hasn't told anyone, but recently she's been practicing her songwriting abilities. Whenever she had the spare time, she would write down random lyrics she thinks would be good for a song. If she was out with her friends, she'd type them in her notes app and pretended to be texting her mom. During her break time at work, she'd rummage around her brain trying to find inspiration or something that would be good. It's a miracle she hasn't been fired by her boss who was surprisingly cool about her being gone for the summer.

Amy wasn't sure why she doesn't want anyone to know about it. It's not like her friends or family would embarrass her for writing songs, so why shouldn't she tell them? Well, for one, every lyric idea she has thought of was deeply personal and she doesn't want to show that level of vulnerability yet, Two, the lyrics are most likely incoherent and don't make any sense. And lastly, she might not even pull through with the whole "popstar" thing. It's petrifying and risky; it was too nerve-racking.

Bringing us back to right now, Amy's fingers moved at such precision on the keyboard. She was practicing a Frank Ocean song on the instrument. She missed a few keys here and there, but it sounded good for the most part. The song ended up inspiring a thought for a lyric, so she grabbed an old unused notebook and wrote it down. She was unaware of the fact that her boyfriend would be approaching her room at any second.

It's been a while since they've hung out at her house, so Matt decided to switch things up a bit. Ms. Valez had let him in and told him Amy was in her room. When he made his way there, he knocked on the door of her opened bedroom door. He could see that she was sitting on the stool in front of her keyboard. She was wearing a pair of gray sweatpants and her favorite dark green hoodie with the sleeves rolled up her arms. He couldn't see her face, but he knew she looked absolutely perfect — as she always does.