He wasn't here. Mitchie raised her head from the table wearily, scanning the room yet again. He wasn't there. She sighed, dropping her head again.
Thunk.
He'd promised to stay right with her throughout this. He'd promised to help her whenever, with whatever she needed. She needed him.
Groan.
She knew she had changed, and quite frankly, she didn't care. No one else did, so why should she? Was there really anything to live for, anyway?
Tick.
Mitchie signalled the waiter and ordered her meal not glancing at the menu. It didn't matter what it was she had ordered. Everything tasted the same anyway.
Gulp.
Mitchie ate in silence, nodding occasionally at the people who waved at her. She didn't know who they were, and she wouldn't be bothered to remember them.
Swallow.
Mitchie slid her credit card to the waiter, and gathered her things. Another day. Another day to have people shout at her, call her name, take her picture.
Click.
Mitchie started her car, and absently stared at the steering wheel a moment. She was alone. And she refused to go home to an empty house.
Sigh.
The house was empty. She was alone. Her family was dead, all of them in a car accident the year before. She was alone.
Ding.
Her phone rang with a text. Startled, she glanced at it, reading the text in a glance. It was just a Twitter notification.
Hum.
The car purred as she pulled into the studio parking lot. She climbed out, slid her card in the door, and walked through the doors easily. She opened the door to her studio.
Whoosh.
She smiled as she saw the screen saver. Camp Rock. She had gotten signed after the second year. Before everything went wrong.
Beep.
The computer beeped, indicating readiness to record. She slipped off her heels, and went into the studio, turning on her mike.
Breath.
The backing track of her new single began to play, and she sang. Black tears ran down her face, and her entire body trembled.
Sob.
Her voice cracked, and she immediately stopped. Still trembling. She pressed a button on the remote, and the track began again.
Scratch.
Mitchie winced, her voice raw from singing. She turned off the system, hearing the whirring of the machines as they slowed. Exhausted, she climbed onto the couch.
Squeak.
The door cracked open, but Mitchie didn't notice. Already sound asleep, she lay curled up on the simple sofa. He peeked around the corner.
Swish.
He quietly closed the door behind him. Quickly glancing at Mitchie, he slipped into the office, viewing the history on the machines.
Buzz.
She'd been singing for almost five hours straight. He tiptoed to the couch, and gently slipped Mitchie's head into his lap, running his fingers through her dark hair.
Clunk.
The ring on his finger hit the pins in her hair, and he paused, uncertain. Mitchie stirred, curling into a smaller ball.
Mmm.
Mitchie began moving in her sleep, and he rubbed her shoulder soothingly. She half-screamed, and jerked awake.
Scream.
Eyes wide, panting, she sat up. Staring at him in disbelief, she asked, "Nate?"