One month later (unless you're the author, which in that case you suck for taking like 6 months)

     ..... and several crappy, generic, yet personal songs later.

      Me: no Yoosung, Sharknado wasn't based off a real event. Don't listen to Luciel.

707: Oh come on (y/n)! I was having fun!

Yoosung: Luciel!

At that moment, I got a text from my manager. It read,

Where the hell are you? The meeting with the record company for your new album starts in less than twenty minutes! Don't forget the music that I had written for you!

Crap, I forgot!

I rushed to the bathroom in a frantic hurry and started brushing my hair and teeth at the same time. Rushing to my closet, I put on that maroon dress that Zen said looked nice with some black heels and a gold bracelet.

I put on some light makeup, and looking at the clock, I had six minutes to get to the record studio.

I ran to the living room to get the folder with my new album's songs in it, but as I rushed through the doorway, I gasped and froze in my tracks.

"(C/n)!" I yelled in horror as my cat ripped the pieces of paper in the folder into shreds. She looked at me smugly.

"Don't you dare!" I snapped.

"Meow." She meowed before squatting on top of the folder.

"You bitch!" I shrieked.

I can't show up empty handed! I thought. I won't get the deal and my manager will kill me!

That's when I remembered the music that I wrote.

I didn't want to, but had no other choice. I grabbed my binder full of shitty yet personal generic music and rushed out the door.
~~~~~~~~~

"YOU ARE LATE!" My manager yelled as I barreled into the building.

"I know, I know!" I answered. "We have a bigger problem, though." I told him meekly.

"And that is?"

"Well, my c-"

"Miss (S/n)?" A secretary asked. "Mr. Bigdealton will now see you."

My manager glared at me before urging me into the elevator.

"Now, What is your problem?" He interrogated as soon as the doors closed.

"My cat tore up and then peed on the music!" I cried.

"She WHAT?" He hollered. "Then what's in the binder!?!"

"Um... well, music that I wrote..." I responded.

His face turned an unnatural shade of white as the doors opened.

"Ah, Miss (s/n)! Come, sit, sit!" A man in an expensive suit instructed me, surrounded by scary and mean looking associates at a conference table.

"Hello, Mister Bigdealton." I said as my manager and I took a seat.

"So, I heard you're thinking of releasing a new album? Your last one was a very large success, Miss (s/n). It sold over ninety million copies worldwide, correct?"

"Correct."

"Very impressive. Now, I already have high expectations for your new album, but let's see what you have so far." He smiled and gestured for me to hand over the binder.

I gulped and slid it across the table. Turning to my manager, we made eye contact, both conveying sheer terror on our faces.

"This is quite a lot of songs..." He said as he flipped through my binder. There had to be at least 40 songs in there.

"Um, yes. I figured you could choose which of my songs you liked the most and they'll make the album. Better safe than sorry, I suppose." I lied.

"Who wrote these? Was it Sin Yejun? He's very talented."

My manger looked as if he was about to go into cardiac arrest and collapse right there on the long table.

"Actually, I wrote them myself." I said. My manager took a sip of water.

"Really? These are fantastic!" He cheered. My manager inhaled his water and burst into a coughing fit, pounding on his fat chest in attempt to start adequately breathing again.

"Sun-Woo, what do you think of this?" He said as he showed his associate the sheet of paper.

"I believe with a hint of techno, this can be popular among young adults with crippling depression." Sun-woo said sarcastically.

"So pretty much all young adults! That's fantastic!" Mr. Bigdealton exclaimed. "Although I was indeed expecting songs about drinking, having fun, and partying, this profound and intense take on your album is quite a pleasant surprise!"

"Trust me, we were expecting party songs too."  Mr. (M/l/n) said under his breath.

      "I love it!" Mr. Bigdealton said as he smacked his papers on the desk. "We'll keep these for now, and we will get back to you on which songs will make the cut!"

       "Thank you, Sir." I sighed in relief as I shook the man's hand.

~~~~~~~~~~

"I can't believe you!" My manager huffed.

"It's not my fault!" I defended. "And do you think that I want these songs being listened to all over the world?!? They're really personal!"

"That's of minuscule importance right now! You have a bunch of amateur songs on a record deal after I already payed Sin Yejun 4.5 million dollars for the 14 songs your cat ripped up!"

"And peed on."

"And peed on! You'd better make up that money real quick, (s/n)! And not to mention that he's going to be pissed his name isn't getting put on the album... ugh!" He groaned. "I have some phone calls to make, so be quiet!" He ordered me.

I complied, remaining silent the rest of the ride.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

707: Hey (y/n)'s back!

Yoosung: hi!

Zen: You left kinda abruptly. You ok?

Me: hey guys! Sorry I was late to a meeting and had to leave ASAP

Zen: what for?

Me: I have an album coming out soon.

Yoosung: can't wait to buy it

707: you're in college, you have no money

Yoosung: I'm sure Jumin will let me borrow like $10

Jumin: no

Yoosung: aw ok

Yoosung: Guess I'll listen to it on YouTube

Me: haha thanks yoosagoose

Yoosung: :)

The conversation carried onward, but I didn't reply as much as I usually do. I just didn't feel like it. Today had been a steaming hot pile of trash for me and I wasn't about to bend my back to seem more cheerful. I already do that for my millions of fans worldwide, so I'm not about to keep the facade for my closest friends.

   That's when I received a private message from Zen.

    Zen: hey gorgeous ;)

   Me: hey rat tail

   Zen: .-. Someone's cranky

   Zen: I noticed you're not really answering as much as you usually do, you ok?

  Me: TBH, No.

  Zen: care to elaborate?

  Me: it's going to come out like projectile word vomit, you ready?

   Zen: Ew

   Zen: But yes

   Me: So my cat ripped up and peed on my music that was written for me by some guy my manager hired for 4.5 million dollars but I was already late for my meeting for a record deal so I had to take my music that I wrote on my own and present that but the guy actually really liked it so now I'm about to record and publish some really personal music for millions of people to listen to but I don't want that because it's all about my shitty past and how much I don't like being in the spotlight all the damn time and how I can't be normal and that I like some dude but that's the least important part of that honestly so just ignore it but still I don't want this out for the entire world and I'm already down 4.5 million dollars in funds and I won't be able to get that money back unless I publish these songs and I mean I have the money to spare but it's still so much and my manager is pissed ah

  Zen: woah that's a lot more than I expected

  Zen: see, all these problems stem from your cat. Cats are the root of all evil, I tell you!

Me: ...

Zen: okay maybe this isn't the time for jokes

Zen: although I wasn't really joking

Zen: but in all honesty, that really sucks. I'm sorry :/

Me: Thanks

Zen: Call me?

I replied the classic way by hitting the call button. It didn't even ring for a full round when Zen picked it up.

"Heyyy!" Zen purred.

"Sup." I responded.

"So, what can I do to cheer you up?"

"Cancel the record deal and bring back those songs from the dead?" I suggested.

"Zombie songs. Nice. Although, I'm not really a necromancer so I can't do that, sorry." He laughed.

"Haha, thanks anyway Zen."

"I'll do whatever it takes to keep a girl as pretty as you smiling."

"You don't even know what I look like!"

"Do I really need to?" He asked

"I mean, if you wanna call me pretty, you kind of need something to base that judgement off of." I spoke playfully.

"Uh, you have a beautiful personality. There, you happy? Just shut up and take the compliment!" He said jokingly.

"Compliment accepted."

"So anyway, you mentioned a cruuuuush?" He reminded me. "Tell me who the hell is it so I can smoke their ass."

Why did I even mention that in my blurb?!?

"You can't see, but I'm giving you the ultra middle finger."

"You still haven't answered me." He pointed out.

"And I'm not gonna." I replied.

"It was worth a shot." He laughed. I pulled out my laptop and started scrolling through social media.

We talked for a good twenty minutes. I required the information that Zen ate a really good sandwich for lunch and that he smokes when he's stressed out. I obviously scolded him for that last thing, to which he said it could be worse, and he could be a coke head.

And then I asked him if he was sure he wasn't already was.

"I crack myself up!" I laughed.

"Oh, so you do crack?"

"Walked right into that one."

"The stunning, charming, coke-head and the crack whore. Sounds like a really bad superhero duo."

"I don't know, Stan Lee would probably make something good out of it... Oh shit!" I gasped.

"What?" Zen asked me.

    That's when I read the news headline out loud.

    Adam Hill, Boyfriend of icon (S/n) spotted with a mystery woman in London

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

    Hey guys,

      Yeah, I suck. Reeeeeal bad. I kinda abandoned this story (and you guys) for like 6 months but I'm back now, and I don't plan on leaving this story alone for that long again. I'm back for good, but to compensate I gave you guys an extra long chapter!