𝑫𝒖𝒃𝒍𝒊𝒏 𝒊𝒏 𝑬𝒄𝒔𝒕𝒂𝒔𝒚 ☘︎ Robert Keating

013

(i added a small part of what i wrote for this chapter to the last, so if you've read that chapter already go back for the last part of it so you don't miss it, if you're not sure, it's the release scene after the instagram post)

⋆. 𐙚 ̊ july 2020

The morning after her release, June woke up to her phone buzzing so hard it nearly fell off the nightstand. Half-asleep, she blinked at the notifications, texts, Instagram DMs, story mentions. Her heart began to pound before her brain had fully caught up.

She sat up in bed, blanket wrapped around her like a cocoon, and scrolled.

Messages from friends poured in

JUNE this is AMAZING holy shit

Crying in my room to Bags like a proper teenage girl, thank you for this

Do I get to brag I knew you before you were famous?

Her Instagram story was cluttered with reposts of her song cover, the little polaroid someone took during a writing session glowing on screens from Dublin to who-knows-where. She tapped through them slowly, overwhelmed but giddy.

On Twitter, it was a different kind of noise. Most tweets didn't tag her directly, but they didn't need to.

Bobby's friend dropped her first song and it's actually SO GOOD??

I listened because of the repost and now I'm obsessed. She's got Phoebe Bridgers vibes or smth.

I can't tell if I want to be her or cry to her music for three hours straight.

The majority were kind, even enthusiastic. Sure, a lot of people were clearly just there because Robert and the others had shared the link in their stories, but even then, it meant people were listening. And it didn't feel like pity clicks. It felt like maybe... they actually liked it.

She curled into herself on the couch, cheeks warm, watching the stream count tick up slowly on Spotify for Artists. It was surreal. She had a real profile now. A real artist page. Her name next to a song she wrote in her bedroom.

June McCartney.

It still didn't feel entirely real.

Later that day, she opened Instagram again and hovered over the "Make profile public" button. Her account had always been private. Personal. Friends, uni people, the band, a few stragglers she never unfollowed from school.

But now...

Now she was a musician. People were already searching her name. She might as well give them something to find.

Before she did it, though, she scrolled back through her profile. Group pictures with the boys at festivals, a blurry one from their first trip to Dingle, a mirror selfie where Robert was in the background tuning his bass. Her finger hovered.

She'd already had some follow requests the last months from accounts that obviously just wanted to follow her for the photo's of the band. She didn't want people following her just because she was friends with them. She didn't want to feel like a tagalong or a novelty. If they were here for the music, they could stay. If not... they'd lose interest soon enough.

Quietly, methodically, she archived a few posts. Nothing bitter, just protective. She left the ones that still felt like her. Then she hit "Public," shut her phone off, and lay back with a quiet exhale.

She was out there now. No turning back.

And as terrifying as that was, there was also something thrilling about it. People were waiting for her next move.