act I - I
James sat in the passenger seat with both legs bent in front of him with one leg crossed over the other. Criss-cross applesauce. His deep red electric guitar rested upright in his lap where he strummed mindlessly.
Okay, maybe not mindlessly per se. There has never been a minute of his life where James Potter was doing anything without thinking. Overthinking. Overthinking to the point where he's not thinking at all. Something like that. He's never been good at explaining his feelings.
Which is weird, he grew up in a family that was open about everything and allowed him to feel all his feelings. A golden boy in his family, and he carried that reputation through school among his friends. And who wasn't his friend?
He strummed the same three guitar solos he had been playing all year. Sometimes he mixed them together, wondering if he just combined all of his old songs they could count as new ones. It must work, he hasn't written a song in over a year but he's still on his way to the studio. With his new red guitar that he bought with his own adult job money.
The adult job is exactly what he did during secondary school but he doesn't have to leave the club early to do homework this year.
"Mate, I'm getting arthritis just looking at your fingers," Remus noted without a glance away from the road. "We've been driving for twenty minutes and you haven't said a word."
"Sorry, Remus. How've you been?" James replied sheepishly. He untwisted his legs and placed them back on the floor along with the guitar.
"Good, good. Pete said he's found us another gig for this weekend, but honestly the odds of it actually coming together are so slim. He hasn't exactly pulled through recently."
"Yeah, but he will. I trust him." James defended tiredly. He liked to pretend Peter wasn't a complete lost cause of a manager. To pretend that Sirius didn't try to hold a casting for new band managers not very long ago. Peter was James' friend, his oldest friend, he just needs practice getting used to managing a growing band.
"Because twelve years of arts school and two years releasing music aren't enough time for him to figure out management," Remus said, reading James' thoughts exactly. They chuckled to themselves as they pulled into the Hallow, the band studio. The four of them had always made the plan to buy the space next door, four flats all beside each other for them to all live with their girlfriends and eventual wives.
The Hallow wasn't too far from Hogwarts, the performing arts school the Marauders had attended for the entirety of their school careers. Also not far was Honeydukes, they're usual night club restaurant they are regular performers at. After the release of their first album, they had toured locally once it took off. James knew that it was time to get another album up and running, but he just couldn't bring himself to make a new song.
"We're going to start in the office today," Peter started and the three band members followed him into the small conference room beside the recording studio. Sirius gave James a friendly slap on the back to greet his arrival and a quick hand squeeze to Remus, their on-again, off-again relationship seeming to fall into the first category at the moment.
They took their seats at the round table, the room fitting no more than the table, a coffee station, and a handful of posters. Bowie, the Beatles, the Marauders, and their close friends from school, Lily, Mary, and Marlene; The Valkyries. Lily and James had spent a lot of the years at Hogwarts as a couple until about a year and a half before graduation where she revealed she was a lesbian. James agreed he wasn't sure that they would last forever but he really wanted them to. In that same conversation James mentioned he, too, might not be entirely straight. But he tries not to think about that too much.
"With the rate of our first album, Haunted, we need another album within a month to stay this high up on the music chart and start to think about awards and world tours. James, it's best if you devote the next few weeks of straight songwriting, we know you haven't written one in a full year, but you need to start now. Once the album is out, I have a tour plan being drafted as we speak. This will also line up with the Valkyries, so we can do some collars after. We could even see if Dorcas would open for us." Peter continued to speak, getting far ahead of himself. But all James could think about was the fact that he had to get at least ten songs, music videos, album covers, promotions, and live performances up all in under four weeks.
He blinked and everyone was getting up to start the actual rehearsal. "James, you all right?" Sirius asked him.
"Yeah, yeah, of course." James replied quickly. He didn't even think about what he was replying to, it just automatically came out the way it usual does. He took a seat on a stool beside a microphone stand and his guitar. Remus sat at the drums though he didn't pick up his sticks. Sirius just stood. They didn't believe him. "It's just... a lot. A lot to get done right now."
"I know, mate. But you've written songs in a few hours before. This is just like... doing that multiple times. Let us take care of everything else, we can pick the videos and pictures, you just have to focus on the album." Remus said lightly. James nodded, gaining a little bit of confidence in himself. He opened his notes app, surely it's chock full of ideas. He opened the 'songs' folder only to find he hadn't updated it in nearly eight months. However, the note he'd written caught his eye nonetheless. I will die in the house that I grew up in. He wasn't sure the melody that went with it so he begun to strum while singing the lyric a few times in hope that he could find the right way.
I would leave if only I could find a reason
I'm mean because I grew up in east England
I got dreams but I can't make myself believe them
Spend the rest of my life with what could have been
And I will die in the house that I grew up in
I'm homesick
In a fast couple of hours, James had found a full song. Homesick. He actually enjoyed it. Most of his songs weren't things he'd ever listen to, but he genuinely liked his own song very much.
"I think I did it," He declared proudly. His friends stood around him as he played it for them. He didn't even wait for their feedback. "So about a minute in Moony will come in on drums and Sirius can play bass all the way through but he'll really pick it up after Remus. Can't believe I was so worried about getting a song out there, that only took-"
"James! Slow down. That song was good, great even, really. But it was just a little..." Peter trailed off for a moment as he tried to find the right way to explain with an unreadable expression. James had been known to have a bit of a fragile ego surrounding his work. "Slow, that's all. Just very heavy. You guys are on the market as a boy band, we need more upbeat songs. Make us think you enjoy being here, yeah?" James wasn't sure if he wanted to yell or cry. He was writing about how he felt. Apparently his feelings were too slow and too sad. He took a breath.
"Well, that's what I wrote. I didn't realize that there were wrong answers in songwriting." James snapped sarcastically. Remus and Sirius exchanged uncertain glances. Sirius placed a supportive hand on his knee before entering the office to get his bag. He returned with his laptop and a notebook before sitting on the couch across from the mock stage they had set up.
Remus hesitated, rubbing his neck awkwardly, as if debating if he should speak at all. “It’s... it’s just really sad, man. We’re trying to make something more upbeat for the album, something people can get into. Not... not like this.”
James’ face flushed with frustration. “I’m don't write for some commercial hit. I write what feels real. This is how I feel. We have some slower songs on Haunted.”
Sirius, the person those 'slower songs' had been written about, shifted uncomfortably on his stool. James had converted a few of Sirius' poems and feelings into a couple of songs about his difficult upbringing and home life. “We get it, man. We really do. But we’ve got a deadline. The label wants us to drop this album in a month, and we need songs that will sell. You know how it works.”
Peter's voice turned stern now. “This isn’t a solo project, James. It’s a band. If you keep going in this direction, it’s not going to work. We need something people can relate to right now, not just what’s going on inside your head. And for the record, those 'slower songs' are our worst rated songs on the album.”
James’ fists clenched around the guitar neck. He had never gotten this angry this quickly before. “So, you want me to just... write fake songs? Write things I don’t feel? Random happy party songs with no personality?” His voice was rising. “I’ve been writing music my whole life. I’m not just going to churn out crap to please people.”
“James-" Sirius started, but stopped when James finally rose from his stool and started to pace. There was a tense silence before he looked to Remus for help. Remus nodded and took over with his tone softer. "I know it doesn't seem right, but it makes sense. Most people are looking for the happier music, it doesn't necessarily need to be fake. We need to find a balance, okay? Something that speaks to you, but also to everyoneelse.”
James took a step suddenly, shaking his head. “You guys are saying 'we' like you are contributing to any of this process! I can’t do this. I can’t write under this kind of pressure. I can’t just toss out songs like they’re nothing.” His breath was shallow, his hands trembling with the weight of the frustration. “Maybe I’m done with songwriting.”
He said the final part underneath his breath, unsure if any of his bandmates heard him. And he didn't care either way. Without another word, he stormed out of the studio, slamming the door behind him.
-
James stood outside the building for a moment, the cold evening air biting at his skin. His phone was in his hand before he even realized it, and he dialed the one person who always seemed to understand.
The phone rang once, twice, and then-
“Hey, you’ve reached Lily,” came the cheerful voice on the other end, followed by a beep as the voicemail kicked in. James cursed under his breath, about to hang up, when he heard her voice again, muffled in the background.
“Wait! Don’t hang up. I’m here. What’s up?”
“Lily,” James said, his voice cracking slightly. He took a breath before continuing in hopes it would keep himself for crying. At least while on the phone with her. “I’m losing it. They don’t get it. I can’t write like this anymore. I can't write anymore. I just- I just want to stop.”
There was a pause, and then Lily’s voice softened. “Hey, hey, slow down. Tell me what happened.”
“They don’t like the song I wrote. They say it’s too sad. They want something ‘more upbeat.’ I don’t even know what I’m doing anymore.” James felt the anger twist in his chest again. “They just want hits. I’m not some factory for pop songs. At least, not anymore.”
“Sounds like they’re just trying to help you get the album done," Lily said gently. Even she, being his best friend, had never heard him this angry before, but she knew how seriously he took his music. “But you’ve got to figure out what you want too. You’ve always been this way, you know? Writing what’s real, not what’s popular. You just haven't had your real feelings be this... much.”
James leaned against the cold wall of side of the studio, eyes closed. No one had followed him out. “I don’t know how to do both anymore. It’s too much. There’s too much pressure. I don’t know if I can do this anymore.”
Lily’s voice dropped into something more serious. "Okay, look, I get it. I’ve been there. But James… you can’t quit. You love songwriting. You’ve got to write through the hard stuff. You just need to remind yourself why you started in the first place. And you can keep writing the songs you are now, from the sound of it they are very good. But being in a band means you are writing for a performance, so bookmark them because I'm sure you can use them later."
“I just feel like I’m stuck,” he muttered, his hands shaking as he ran them through his hair. “Like everything I write is falling apart, and I don’t know how to fix it.”
“You’re overthinking it,” she said, laughing softly. “How long has it been since you listened to your old stuff? Like, really listened? All the stuff you wrote when you first started?”
James thought for a moment. The process of making his old songs were under lock and key in his mind, he couldn't bring himself to think about it after how terrible he'd felt during all of it. But that had been over a year ago. “It’s been a while.”
“Go back and listen. I’m telling you, you’ll remember what you love about this. You might even find something in there that sparks a new idea. But whatever you do, don’t quit, James. Not over this.”
“I don’t know...” His voice wavered.
Lily’s tone became firmer, reassuring. “You can’t quit. This is just the pressure talking. You’re not done. This isn’t what you want, this is just how you feel right now. And feelings change. But music? That’s who you are. Don’t give that up.”
James stared at the ground for a long time, letting her words sink in. Lily was right, she always was. That's what made having her as a close friend so hard, it made him really miss when they were a couple. Finally, he nodded, even though she couldn’t see it. “I’ll try. I’ll listen to some old stuff soon. Maybe... maybe I’ll take the rest of tonight off and see if I have a better idea tomorrow. I have band rehearsals and preparations every single day for the next month.”
“Good. And hey,” Lily added quickly so James wouldn't hang up first. “if you ever want to talk through more than just music, you know I’m here. Always.”
“Thanks, Lil. I’ll keep that in mind.”
As they hung up, James felt a little lighter. He didn’t have all the answers, but for the first time in days, he felt like he could breathe again. Maybe he wasn’t done. Maybe the pressure was just making him forget what he truly needed to say.