[ 𝐌𝐔𝐒𝐈𝐂 ] to saturn from hawk, maybe?
[ 𝐌𝐔𝐒𝐈𝐂 ] ― sender puts on the radio to listen to music with receiver
Light scratching of pencil and paper is all that fills the quiet of the singlet bedroom, at a time before looming roommates and broken hearts sits a young Saturn alone in his bedroom hard at work on the rewrite of an essay. He softly sniffs to himself, a little upset still his first draft had been so openly ridiculed in front of an audience of his peers during biology class.
The formatting was all wrong as he was more familiar with Chicago style over APA to begin with. The introduction was way too long as it was too involved in the backgrounding, and lacked focus in the actual study at hand. It was brought up as a great example of what not to do. But at least he finished it! There was real thought behind his draft over some of the others who turned in half finished slop. It isn't fair, why is he always the one picked on...
"Hey, freckles," Hawk invites herself in through a door left unlocked.
"Oi, Hawk! What are you-"
"You should really lock that, there's a lotta weirdos crawling these halls. Anyway, can you believe this inane project they put me on? My teacher wants me to work with two - TWO - of my other completely incompetent-- Ew. Wait a sec, why do you look like that."
Saturn rubs his eye a bit with his knuckle, embarrassed now. "Ah, it is nothing, really. I just need to rework this essay is all..."
Hawk crosses her arms, annoyed. "Okay. That doesn't explain that pathetic look on your face. I'm not blind, don't brush me off like I'm stupid, eh? Spill it."
"Ah... I suppose I just feel like I can't get anything right... My best is never good enough and I just get berated when I put in my efforts. It makes me feel so worthless. Maybe I should just give up..." His gaze drops back to the paper, looking at it with dissatisfaction in both his work and himself.
The explanation only makes her more annoyed. "Grow up, would you? If I have to hear any more of this pity party I will put a bullet through both our heads. You're here to become the best, no?"
"Well, yes, but-"
"Good." She walks over to a nightstand, flipping on the radio. Close to the start of the song plays L'aventurier by Indochine. "So drown that whining ninny in your head and get to work. Show them why they were ever wrong to doubt you. If you're so smart, give them no room to judge and say otherwise. Do it your way. Prove it."
The knob is twisted to pump the sound louder and she walks back over to shove his pencil back into his grasp. She situates herself on his bed to ensure he gets to work, then starts taking out some materials to start her own. Independently, as she had wanted. Her way.
Saturn stews a bit frustrated at first, but as the music goes on he starts to nod along and lets her words better sink in. Again, she was right. So what if he did it a little wrong the first time, this was his opportunity to get it more than right this time.
So both get to work, and as the determination grows on his face Hawk slips out her camera to snap a memory. The spark in his eye was bright as ever, and beautifully captured. The boy was more than used to being her little model at this point, paying the snapshot no mind as he continues his work over the blaring French classic rock.
The formatting would be fixed. The methodology and study filled out. But he was doubling down on the background. They were getting everything. From the beginning.
Saturn bottled his tears and found his fire, and Hawk from behind a sharp lense felt proud in igniting it.
