The 18th Shade Of Summer (Fractured Script Series #1)

CHAPTER 03

The first thing I noticed was the music.

Low, echoing, and just barely there like it had seeped through the cracks in the wall rather than being played. Faint guitar chords stretched out into the night, gentle and unhurried, as if whoever was playing had nowhere else to be.

I had been trying to review my materials exam. My notes were laid out across the floor in color-coded stacks. My laptop was open to a recorded lecture, paused at a point I had already rewound twice but none of it was sticking. The sound coming through the wall blurred everything into background noise.

Another song. Another midnight.

I closed my eyes and leaned back against the edge of the bed. I rested my head against the wall and tried to breathe evenly, hoping that maybe my brain would start ignoring it.

Maybe it would blend into the silence like an old refrigerator hum you stopped noticing after a while.

But it didn't. It stayed. The music wasn't loud, but it was persistent. Clear enough to make me wonder if he played it for someone or just for himself. There was something about the way it came through that didn't feel careless.

I opened my eyes and stared up at the ceiling. My vision traced the small cracks in the plaster I hadn't bothered to notice before. They spidered out from the light fixture like a nervous system.

I wasn't mad. Not really. Just tired.

I had left a note. Not demanding, just honest. I didn't expect a reply but I thought maybe it would be acknowledged. Maybe the music would come later, or softer, or not at all.

I gathered my notes into a loose stack, more mess than order, and set them aside. I closed my laptop with a tired thud and slid it onto the edge of the bed.

There was no use pushing myself through formulas and diagrams if none of it would stay. My head felt too full. Like trying to pour new water into a bottle that already had yesterday's inside.

I opened a random movie I had saved which is something I'd half-watched weeks ago. It didn't matter what it was because I just needed something to drown out the music, something easier to focus on.

No subtitles. No drama. Just predictable noise.

I let it play while I lay back on the bed, my arms folded beneath my head. I didn't really watch. I let the characters talk to each other in the background while my eyes wandered toward the curtain shifting slightly with the breeze.

Time passed slowly.

The music next door didn't stop. If anything, it changed. Got slower and more intentional like whoever was playing had fallen into the rhythm of it, like he was chasing something in the notes. Like he needed it.

By the time the movie ended, it was already 3:12 AM.

And I still hadn't slept.

I sat up and rubbed my face with both hands. I didn't feel exhausted. I just felt stuck. My thoughts had reached a hallway with no exit. I could feel the pressure behind my eyes. My body wasn't tense but it wasn't at ease either.

I stood up and walked toward the kitchen. I didn't turn on the overhead light, just let the yellow cabinet strip light cast enough glow to move around.

I opened the cupboard and reached for the coffee jar. The lid was half-screwed on, probably how I left it the last time I didn't finish a cup. I twisted it shut and set it aside.

I reached up again, brushing my fingers along the shelf for a clean mug, and accidentally nudged a glass beside it.

It teetered.