Chanyeol lost the award. Baekhyun won it. One prideful remark and a single photograph were enough to turn them into the industry's favorite rumor. Writing an album together was never the hardest part, it was realizing that hatred, and a few deeply r...
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"In music, counterpoint is the art of weaving two independent melodies together at the same time, creating harmony between opposing voices."
˖ ࣪⊹⊱🍒🍓⊰⊹࣪ ˖
His phone alarm went off at six in the morning. Somehow, it sounded louder than it ever had before. But then again, this wasn't just any ordinary day, it was one he had dreamed about for months. Before the relentless ringing could fade away, Chanyeol was already on his feet. He pulled the curtains open, a pleasant tremor running through his arms, the unmistakable feeling that something wonderful was about to happen.
The sunrise greeted him warmly, almost as if it were whispering, "winner," making him shine even brighter, if that were somehow possible. Meanwhile, the coffee machine finished brewing his usual cup, though he already knew it would taste better than it ever had before. A smile had been resting on his face for several minutes now, one so genuine that nothing could have taken it away. His gaze lingered on the suit prepared for the award ceremony, carefully pressed and sealed inside a transparent garment bag on his sofa. Resting on the living room table was a copy of his latest album.
His finest work yet.
He had released it four months earlier, yet he would never forget everything it had taken to bring it into the world: the sleepless nights, the days when the studio smelled of overheated cables while he kept obsessing over every melody, the moments he cried from frustration and exhaustion, the hours spent unable to put his instruments down, the final mix submitted only two days before the deadline, the pressure, the uncertainty. Above all, though, he remembered the love and pride he felt for what he had created. It wasn't just another project. It was every piece of himself, wrapped inside songs and carried by his own voice.
When it came to his career, Chanyeol never placed anything above it. He was willing to neglect himself to the point of going bald if that was what it took to preserve the quality and authenticity of his music. And no, he never listened to people telling him to slow down, that simply wasn't part of his creative process.
At last, he turned on his phone. Today, he wasn't going to answer emails or messages unless they were truly important. Aside from the birthday wishes and congratulations from friends and family, the only message he bothered to read was the one from his father. "This will be your year". A grin spread across his face once again. His father was right.
He paced around the living room, quietly rehearsing the acceptance speech he had written three weeks earlier. He had practiced it so many times that he occasionally stumbled over his own words, which only made him sigh in frustration. They're just nerves, he reminded himself.
He held his coffee mug as though it were already the trophy itself. Faint marks still lingered across his fingers, silent evidence of everything the album had demanded from him. And it had demanded a lot. Perhaps those scars, which had taken far too long to flatten, would never fully disappear. But he no longer cared. Every real musician carried them in one way or another, just like the calluses on his fingertips. And now, as he prepared to win Album of the Year, he wore them with pride.
