The sound filled the small room, and he lost himself in it, strumming his guitar with his eyes closed until it seemed to become a part of him, the music spilling from him as naturally as a cricket’s whimsical chirping as night falls.
“So that’s why your hands are so rough.”
Prince jumped, nearly dropping his instrument as he spun around to see Trevor leaning against the door frame, sipping a mug that could be coffee, but he doubted it. “Trevor,” he exclaimed. “You’re here early.”
“Still not as early as you,” Trevor yawned, checking his watch. “We don’t go on air for another hour.”
“I know.” Prince shifted in his chair awkwardly. “I like how quiet it is in the morning. I can be alone and hear my own thoughts.”
“I thought you lived alone,” Trevor pointed out.
“Well… Yeah. I don’t know. Something about the studio… I like how small and close together everything is, like the building itself is giving me a hug.”
“Not me,” Trevor said with a shiver. “Makes me claustrophobic, all these tight walls and narrow passageways… Makes me nervous, like something’s waiting to jump out at me behind every corner.” He gestured to the guitar in Prince’s grip with his mug before taking a sip. “Didn’t know you could play.”
“Oh. Yeah.” He repositioned his hands on the strings. “I just like to mess around with it whenever I get bored. Nothing serious. I’m really not even that good.”
“That’s not what I heard,” Trevor said, sitting down in his seat beside Prince and setting his drink on top of the audio control panel. “And judging by your hands, I’d say you’ve been at it for a while. When’d you start? College? High school?”
“My dad started teaching me when I was still pretty young. He loved guitar, and I guess he wanted me to as well.” Prince strummed a chord as he spoke, feeling the vibrations rumble through the wood and into his body. “I do my best to… keep him alive in a way.”
“When did he pass?”
“Almost six years now. Lung cancer.”
Trevor nodded solemnly. “I’m sorry that happened to you. Cancer’s a bitch.”
“Yeah. It is.”
The silence that followed might have grown awkward, but Prince was determined not to let that happen. He plucked at the strings lightly, filling the small room with a simple melody. He closed his eyes as his fingers moved on their own, seeking out the best notes to chase after the previous ones, stitching together soft, slow music like yarn in a loom.
“What did you mean about my hands?” he asked Trevor, not stopping his music or opening his eyes. There wasn’t an answer and he peeked at his partner sitting beside him. Trevor was staring at the guitar in Prince’s lap, unfocused as he got lost in the pleasant sound. He noticed Prince looking at him and snapped back into himself.
“Sorry,” he mumbled. “Did you say something?”
“You were talking about my hands being rough. What does that mean?”
“Oh, you know,” Trevor said, waving a hand and fiddling with some of the knobs on the sound board. “Guitar players that don’t use picks always end up getting calloused fingers and stuff. I noticed it when we first shook hands, and the thought crossed my mind that maybe you played guitar, but I honestly couldn’t picture it.”
“Why not?” Prince asked.
“I’m not sure,” Trevor sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. “I can’t really picture you doing anything outside of work. We’ve just never really talked before. I had no idea what you did in your free time or any of your interests. You’re always here before me and leave last. I guess in a way I just always figured… you never left.” He chuckled. “Like you’re a part of the studio somehow. Just a part of my job. Kinda funny, huh?”
Prince nodded and smiled, but something about this observation troubled him. Did he really spend that much time at work? Did he show up so early and stay so late that his coworkers saw him as a machine, a piece of equipment, an extension of the sound booth?
“You okay?” Trevor asked quietly, and the softness of his voice caught Prince off guard and drew him back into the moment.
“Of course. Why, is something wrong?”
“You just… You stopped playing.”
Prince blinked down at his unmoving fingers in numb fascination. “I did.”
“Did I say something wrong?” Trevor worried.
“No, you didn’t do anything… I just had a thought.”
“Okay,” Trevor said, not sounding very convinced. “It’s just… If you need anything just let me know, okay? Even if it’s something small like a cup of coffee, just ask.”
“Th-thank you,” Prince replied, surprised again by his coworker’s seemingly random care for him. “Are you okay?” he asked.
Trevor fiddled with the cord of his pair of blocky white headphones he held in his lap. “Not really,” he finally admitted. “I just got out of”—he let out a heaving sigh—“a really big relationship.”
“Oh,” Prince said quietly. He hadn’t been expecting that and he didn’t know how to comfort him. “I… I’m really sorry, Trevor.”
“It’s whatever,” he said, brushing him off.
“It’s not,” Prince insisted, setting his guitar on the floor beside him and turning to face his partner. “That’s hard for anyone. No one ever gets out of a relationship unscathed, no exceptions.”
“Except for me,” Trevor joked, jabbing a thumb towards himself with a toothy grin. His eyebrows gave away how he truly felt, though, squeezing together and wrinkling his forehead with worry.
“No one’s that lucky,” Prince said softly, giving Trevor a comforting smile. “Look, I’ll come to you if I need anything, and I’ll do the same for you, alright? Return the favor. We can look out for each other. Deal?”
Trevor looked uncertain, his hooded eyes flickering nervously. “I don’t want to be a burden or anything…”
“You won’t be,” Prince promised. “And you don’t have to tell me anything. I just want you to know you can. You can agree to this deal and not partake in it. There’s no pressure.”
Trevor relaxed at his words, his rigid figure sinking more comfortably into his seat. “Well, alright, that… That sounds fine.” His teasing nature returned to him and he turned his chair to face the empty sound booth with a smug expression, his eye still trained on his coworker. “But it’s not easy dragging information outta me.”
“I’m not gonna drag anything out of you,” Prince affirmed. “You can open up to me in your own time, as much as you want.”
