Taylor’s throat hurt. They’d been working in the studio for the last ten hours on the same song. Singing the same lines, the same vocal runs, the same lyrics for the better part of the day was wreaking havoc on his vocal chords no matter how much water he dumped down his throat or how many times he asked for a break.
“Isaac, we’re done,” he finally said, putting his foot down definitively for the first time all day, “We haven’t accomplished anything in the last two hours.”
“I don’t really care. We’re over a month behind schedule in case you’d forgotten.” The look in his brother’s eyes wasn’t cruel, but his words were. There was no way Taylor could have forgotten. They’d been hinting for months that it was his fault their professional life was dragging. They never came right out and said it, knowing that the time was hard enough on him already, but they had found subtle, passive aggressive ways to make their feelings known.
“Don’t, Ike. Just don’t.” He didn’t care that Isaac wanted to keep working and shot Zac a pointed look before grabbing his bag and walking out of the studio.
The walk back to his apartment was about ten blocks, plenty of time for him to clear his head before he got home to her. She was the only thing in his life that was making sense, and she was the one thing that had thrown it all out of whack to begin with.