hacked-by-jake - Tumblr blog

hacked-by-jake · 16 days

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Fancy reading my original story? ;)

Without revealing too much, it's a very character-driven, slow-burn(ish), bitter-sweet romance story centered around self-discovery, with music and movies playing a significant role in the background :)

If you want to give it a go, you can read The Higher We Soar here (I'm currently sharing it on Wattpad, as I, unfortunately, haven't found a better alternative...). The first three chapters are already published (and it always will be free :))

You can also read the prologue below ⬇︎

You should never expect too much from Tuesdays. They're like the middle children of the week—less demanding than Mondays, less depressing than Wednesdays, but definitely not as fun as Fridays. Tuesdays quietly go about their business, neither imposing nor exhilarating.

As usual, I didn't have high hopes for that particular Tuesday either. It was one of those days that seemed to slip from memory almost as soon as it happened, no matter how much I wracked my brain to recall it.

The weather? If someone had told me there was the worst snowstorm of the century on that day, I would have readily accepted their claim without a single question. If I had read somewhere that it was the hottest day of the year, I would have simply nodded in agreement. I couldn't even tell you whether I decided to take a bus, a tram, or maybe I just, quite merrily, took a walk to the studio.

All those details somehow simply left my mind, overshadowed by one seemingly insignificant, and quite short encounter. Nothing remained the same after that fateful, yet somehow very ordinary, casual Tuesday morning.

Like a clueless fool, I failed to sense the impending, monumental shift in my life—a weird, terrifying, passionate avalanche that, in retrospect, seemed glaringly obvious and impossible to miss from the beginning, no matter how hard you might try... Yet, I did.

Before I delve further, you should know that I've never really liked interns.

It's not a sentiment I'm particularly proud of, as I despise prejudice in any form. My dislike isn't rooted in any of my antisocial tendencies; in fact, I generally find it quite easy to connect with people, especially in the music industry.

But I never really liked interns.

Their enthusiasm often comes across as superficial, and I can't stand it when they ask what to do, only to neglect the tasks I give them. I don't don't like when they think they have it all, believing they are more knowledgeable than anyone else around the studio, despite never having composed a single piece of music in their lives. I don't like how, before I can even properly learn their names or discover their strengths, they vanish without a trace, leaving behind a mess of equipment they weren't supposed to touch in the first place.

I also don't like when interns assume I'm just one of them.

It's a frustrating realization, mainly because, begrudgingly, they have the right to do that. After all, most of them are just a tad younger than me. Who could blame them?

That seemed to be the case with most interns. Except for one notable exception.

It didn't take long for me to notice that one individual stood out from the rest of the pack. Slightly older than the typical interns we usually had, he possessed a remarkable ability to effortlessly connect with people of all ages and ranks—spanning from the youngest staff members to seasoned audio engineers and even the senior employees of our cleaning crew. He had this certain level of cheerfulness and genuine interest that set him apart, a stark contrast to the usual ennui seen among interns I knew.

Right. First things first, though.

The scene: Early spring. A typical Tuesday morning just a little past ten o'clock.

I found myself in the live room, brimming with anticipation to finally record the first version of my demo, or at least my initial idea for one. But as luck would have it, nothing seemed to align with my plans. True to form, the interns had left a chaotic mess in their wake, leaving me with the arduous task of tidying up before I could even begin to think about diving into my creative process.

I let out a sigh of frustration, futilely rummaging through the clutter in search of a balanced cable before all my inspiration gone to waste. And that's precisely when the blonde intern came into the room, flashing his straight, pearly white teeth at me.

"Oh, hey. Hand me that boom stand, eh?" I gestured towards the stand, hoping to deal the cleanup process faster.

Weirdly enough, he sauntered over to me joyfully, yet his hands were conspicuously empty. It took a few moments for the realization to dawn on me, and when I turned my head to him, there he was, meeting my gaze with a cheerful twinkle in his light brown eyes, smiling at me with the sincerity of a five-year-old child.

"Hello? The boom stand, please?" I reiterated, juggling a handful of cables, none of them the balanced one I desperately needed, and gesturing towards the frustratingly out-of-reach metal stand.

"Oh, you're talking about this thing!" he exclaimed, as if my words had just registered. With a sudden burst of energy, he hastily retrieved the boom stand and brought it over to me. "Here you go."

I shot him a skeptical look as he nonchalantly slipped his hands into the pockets of his well-worn cardigan—a piece of clothing that might have been deemed unwearable by most, yet it somehow suited him perfectly. In an oddly charming way, it emitted a subtle bohemian vibe, and I couldn't help but imagine it gracing the runway of some avant-garde fashion show, although my knowledge of fashion was rather limited.

"Do you want to tell me you didn't know what a boom stand is?" I dared to ask, raising an eyebrow in disbelief.

"Yeah, sorry..." he prudishly feigned embarrassment, though it was evident that he didn't feel particularly bad about it. "I had no clue what you were talking about."

I eyed him inquisitively, suspecting the worst but needing confirmation. "What about a shock mount? Can you pass me that, then?"

He tilted his head and subtly pursed his lips, as if I had switched to an entirely different, foreign language he couldn't comprehend. Utterly astonished, I pointed to the nearby, star-shaped object, and his eyes widened in realization.

"Oh... that's a shock mount? Well, I had no idea about that, either," he admitted, seemingly unfazed by his lack of knowledge, with no intention of handing me the item. In response, I spread my hands and cast him a puzzled, inquisitive look, to which he simply responded with another chuckle.

"Let me be honest with you, okay?" he shrugged once more, entirely at ease. "I know nothing about making music or any of this equipment..."

"Are you shitting me?" I blurted out, dropping the cables from my hands in sheer disbelief. "In that case, I have no idea why you're even here. How on earth did you manage to land this internship in a scoring studio?"

The smirk never left his lips, his eyes twinkling with joy, as if he wasn't even aware that I considered firing him during his very first week on the job. Well, I couldn't actually fire him. I could ask someone else to do it for me.

"What can I say?" he offered another smile, his eyes mirroring the same cheerfulness. Even his bohemian gray cardigan seemed uncharacteristically cheerful as he spoke. "I aced the job interview. Sophie, that gal who interviewed me, seemed to really like me. She was very sure I'd be a great fit here!"

"That gal?" I repeated with a scoff... and a smile. "You mean Sophie, the producer? One of the most important people around here? If not the most important one?"

He nodded as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. "The very same."

"Right. Sophie and her desire to change the whole world for the better..." I remarked, my tone laced with sarcasm that he simply chose to ignore.

There. My proof.

That was the reason why I never really liked interns. He should have said something to make me believe he was taking it seriously, shouldn't he? He should have been embarrassed, he should have shown me his willingness to learn everything as quickly as possible, he should have tried to help me set everything up faster. But he didn't. Instead, he didn't take his eyes off me for a second, making me uncomfortable. It was as if looking at me like that was the most normal and ordinary thing in the world for him — as if it was our hundredth talk. No shyness. No awkwardness on his part. No guilt whatsoever.

"I don't know if I have time for your incompetence, then. I have things to do here, and they have to be done well," I finally stated, trying hard to maintain eye contact.

After all, I was supposed to be the more competent one, not him. Yet, inexplicably, I suddenly felt as though I were the intern, and he was the one showing me the ropes, not the other way around.

He hummed, faintly amused, as if I had cracked a half-hearted joke. "Come on... you only need to be more specific about what you want me to do. I can handle anything with clear instructions. I'm a very quick learner, you know?"

I found myself smiling as he began to lecture me on how to handle an intern like him. In fact, I burst into unexpected laughter—not at his expense, but because I couldn't believe his extraordinary gullibility.

No, gullibility was definitely not the right word. It was more like... certainty. An unwavering, absolute conviction that everything, always, would unfold just as he anticipated, with ease, enjoyment, and no difficulties whatsoever. There was no room for doubt. Moreover, it felt as if it wasn't because he wanted it to be that way, but because the universe, it seemed, had an uncanny knack for bending space and time just to make him smile.

"Let's see. Do you even know what I do here?" I asked, not with impatience anymore, but with genuine curiosity.

"Hey, I'm not that dense," he scoffed, then added a bit unsure, "You're a composer, right? Or am I mixing something up..."

I laughed and nodded in confirmation. His smile held a touch of embarrassment, a genuine one this time.

"You're not. I am a composer. So tell me one more thing, if you don't know anything about making music, why do you even want to work here?" I asked, finally bringing the shock mount closer and starting to set the microphone next to the piano.

He sighed, falling into deep thought for a brief moment before finally responding, "I think you're asking the wrong questions here. Why wouldn't I want to give it a try? It's fascinating. Besides, I'm a huge movie buff and you're making scores. I feel like I can rest my case here."

"Oh, yeah? Your love for movies? You think that's enough?"

"Uh-huh," he nodded, casually picking up the cables I dropped before, "Well, that would be more than enough if we were in an actual movie, wouldn't it?"

"Well, we're not, though," I chuckled, "We're not even in some poorly written novel. Life's quite different from the movies, especially if you know how they're made."

He hummed once more, a quiet laugh escaping his throat as he gave me another intrigued look.

"You think so? I think it all depends on your point of view..." he said with such conviction, as if everything really depended solely on that.

I shook my head in amusement and, unintentionally, found myself agreeing with him.

"Hey, I think I didn't catch your name before..." I said, a little troubled by the fact that despite Sophie repeating the names of all five interns for a week, I couldn't remember any of them.

"Oh, I'm Maddox. At your service!" he replied, his smile widening even further. "People usually call me Maddie, though."

"Really? Do they ever call you Madd?" I quipped. "Maybe that suits you better?"

A spark flickered in his eyes, then chuckled, "I've heard that one before... But sure. I can be Madd for you."

By then, I was laughing opelny, and I forgot about the mess around us.

It surprised me that he didn't ask for my name, and I decided not to give it away. I wasn't sure if he already knew it; he hadn't mentioned it even once that day. It seemed my name just... didn't matter to him back then. He struck me as someone very curious about the world and everything around him, yet for some reason, I didn't really seem to be one of those matters.

Like many things, it didn't bother me much, though.

After that Tuesday morning, marked by a string of mishaps that he effortlessly remedied with a perfect blend of enthusiasm, interest, and clever comments, a tad too clever for just an intern, we didn't teally talk for a few weeks.

Throughout the initial month of his three-month internship, our encounters were fleeting, lacking any real depth or substanc. Yet, I knew, there was an unspoken acknowledgment of each other's presence that hung in the air, like a perfectly fitting soundtrack playing in the background—barely noticeable, yet undeniably there.

I was busy with my projects that weren't going as well as I wanted them to. He, on the other hand, was busy surpassing almost all expectations, learning things at an astonishing pace, and effortlessly charming everyone he encountered. At least that's what I had heard from my co-workers, and from Sophie. He worked mainly under her, after all.

Every now and then though, I'd catch a glimpse of his eyes, squarely directed at me, particularly when I was on my way to the break room in search of my caffeine salvation. Sometimes, amidst the chaos of the studio, I'd hear his laughter, his rather melodic voice rising above the cacophony of others, as I struggled to maintain my focus on the stubborn music sheets in front of me. I quickly noticed he was quite the conversationalist, engaging in lively discussions with anyone willing to participate. Yet, our interactions rarely extended beyond a simple exchange of greetings, such as a casual 'hello' or 'how are you?'

That didn't bother me, either. Well, it didn't bother me at the beginning.

Everything always seems different at the beginning, doesn't it?

#beloved and incredible talented writer #I think you should definitely check it out! 😌💚#itsnotzka #not dw #no dw fanfiction #support by reblog #original story #original work

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