Half an hour later, the key slid easily into the lock of the glass back door of the studio and Josh pulled the metal handle toward him, stepping inside and flipping on the lights, first thing. The minute he entered the building, he could physically feel his heart rate slow to a more normal rhythm, and the gnawing that had settled itself in the pit of his stomach while he was pacing around his condo trying to just... survive was suddenly gone.
For as long as he could remember, the singer had said that he felt more at home in a recording studio surrounded by instruments than he found he had ever felt anywhere else. It was strange, but those objects held a sense of peace for him. They wouldn't hurt him, they wouldn't judge him, and they allowed him to be who he was without question. They let him get lost in his own world for hours at a time, letting him occupy his mind with something other than his life or his problems.
In retrospect, he supposed that everyone had something like that to count on, or at least, he hoped they did. He was sure he'd be fairly lost without it. Josh knew that he'd felt like he was failing, falling fast and hard numerous times throughout his life, and this safety net he was currently standing in caught him and kept him from a crash landing that would have killed him, for sure. He didn't know what he'd do if this place didn't exist for him.
The blond inhaled deeply, taking in the clean, slightly woodsy scent of rosin for the stringed instruments he was trying to learn, and the fresh smell of the acoustic guitars that reminded him of his childhood when he was first learning to play. It was a reminder of when times were better, simpler. He flipped on a second light, walked back through the building and into the sound booth, softly running his fingertips across the edge of the shiny black baby grand piano he'd spent so many hours sitting behind, singing to, practicing on, and, if he wanted to admit it, occasionally crying over when certain songs held too many emotions for one day.
Touching his left pointer finger lightly to the white middle C key, Josh hummed the note quietly, allowing himself to slowly and somewhat lazily vocalize the scale up through the next two octaves and back again. He pressed the key a second time and let the note linger long after he'd closed his mouth, just to hear it. It was the most basic, simple thing, but the tone wrapped around him, comforting and relaxing him like very little else could do. It was how he would describe what a warm blanket straight from the dryer would sound like if one could hear it instead of feel it.