January was not a morning person. 

Being the night-owl that he was, he barely got any sleep last night as he yawned and stretched. 

Not really healthy for a singer.

Running a free hand through his thick black hair, he groggily dragged himself to the bathroom, pressing a button on a nearby radio on the way there. It played a song from a well-known artist who released it yesterday as the man sleepily brushed his teeth. The song was good, but January just got bored so easily.

Just then, his phone started ringing loudly on his bed. Flinching at the sound, he walked over and answered it without checking the caller ID.

“Hello?"

“Why the fuck are you not here yet?!” a voice screamed on the other side.

“Jesus, calm down, the recording’s not till twelve, Charlie,” January groaned, rolling his eyes, turning down the volume of the radio. 

“Shut up! We agreed you’d be here at least two hours early to rehearse and meet your producer before-hand!” Charlotte yelled, her usual calm voice completely forgotten.

“Look I’ll be there on time for the session, that’s all that matters anyway,” January replied irritably. “No, you’ll come down now, Jan, that’s an or- “

And January cut off the call. Charlotte was like a sister to him, they were THAT close. But her being his manager was not ideal but she had the best intentions. January washed up and then checked out his outfit as he got changed and settled on a simple cream t-shirt with faded black jeans and leather jacket.

“And we’re going to see some early snow this year folks, a bit of a heavy one at that so wrap up warm! Temperatures will be at a high of- “ 

Hm, hopefully it won’t be too bad here.

Grabbing the last of his things, January opened the door, down the steps and hopped into a taxi. Stuffing his earphones into his ears, he let the music he loved so much drown out the world around him.

The taxi driver had to shake or rather, poke him out of his short nap when they arrived outside the studio and the raven-haired man got out of the cab. A few snowflakes gently swayed and floated in the air and a couple landed on his shoulder. 

Okay…I guess it’s snowing sooner.

Blinking, January walked up and pushed the door open, greeted by a woman at the reception desk, clearly disinterested as she scrolled on her phone lazily.

“Uh, I’m here for Mr. Lane’s recording session?” January asked the lady. “Sign in the guest book, room 102 upstairs,” she replied boredly, not once taking her eyes off the phone screen.

Hastily signing his name into the guest book, January jogged lightly up the stairs and looked around for room 102. His hazel eyes found a paper sign that read: “Mr. Lane Recording Session” taped to a door and the tag had the room number January was looking for. Taking a breath, he pushed the wooden door and walked in. Out of nowhere, a hand roughly grabbed his jacket collar.

“So, you decided to make it after all?” Charlotte growled with an angry smile, something January learned to fear. “I’m only ten minutes late!” January replied as Charlotte let him go as she tightened her tie around her smartly dressed grey suit.

“Get in the booth,” Charlote glared at him. The taller man didn’t try to push her any more than necessary and quickly went to the recording booth where he saw two engineers at the recording desk, giving him a polite nod as he entered. January picked up a set of headphones on top of a music stand and put them on, humming some light vocal exercises as he did.

“Hey there. So, we’re just gonna play the track from start to finish and if you’re ready to record, do you wanna go straight in?” One of the engineers, a bald man but with kind eyes said through January’s headphones. “Sure. I know the song so I can do a run and take it from there,” the singer replied, clearing his throat.

The engineers gave him a thumbs up through the window of the booth and the music drifted in through the headphones, soft and gentle. January knew what he needed to do. He was an excellent singer and sang his lines, even adding little lilts and ad-libs in quieter parts. The drums kicked in and then January belted out, his voice ringing out beautifully. Before he knew it, the song ended, and the two engineers stopped the recording and gave another thumbs up to signal January the take was over. They spoke to each other for a brief minute and then turned to face the singer again.

“That was great, Mr Springson, can we do another take for safety’s sake?” another engineer, a red-haired woman asked this time through the mic. Just when January was about to reply, a man burst into the recording room.

A maroon beanie sat atop his golden head of hair, startling green eyes looked straight at January and he felt like he was being x-rayed. Wearing a beige jacket on top of a simple sky-blue shirt, ripped black jeans, and sneakers, he looked around and started speaking to the engineers, but January couldn’t hear them. The engineers looked slightly intimidated as the man spoke to them, a slight frown on his forehead. He then looked back up at January, beckoning him to come. Slightly confused and curious, the raven-haired singer, put down the headphones and stepped out, joining them.

“Uh, Mr Springson, this is August Lane; the producer of the song,” The bald engineer said nervously, introducing him. “Oh, hello,” January greeted, reaching a hand toward him. August looked at it suspiciously for a split second before extending his own and shaking his hand.

He’s a little weird.

“Was that the best you’ve sung?”

What?