Brandon pushed open the heavy doors to Studio A, Gordon following close behind.
The sight that greeted him made his breath catch in his throat.
Andre had outdone himself.
The once-dated studio had transformed into a state-of-the-art recording paradise. Brandon's eyes darted from one piece of equipment to another, drinking in the details.
A massive mixing console dominated the center of the room, its sleek surface dotted with countless knobs, faders, and buttons.
Brandon ran his fingers along the edge, the cool metal smooth under his touch, the faint hum of the equipment thrumming in the background like a heartbeat. A hint of new leather and polished wood lingered in the air, blending with the familiar, comforting scent of electronics warming up.
His gaze shifted to the monitor speakers flanking the console. The Genelec Studio Monitors towered over everything else.
In the corner, a rack of outboard gear caught his attention.
He stepped closer, examining the array of high-end compressors, equalizers, and effects processors.
Brandon's eyes fell on the microphone locker next. Inside, he spotted the a variety of different mics, each one was a tool capable of capturing the nuances of any vocal performance.
As he moved towards the recording booth, Brandon noticed the acoustic treatment covering the walls and ceiling. The carefully placed panels and diffusers promised optimal sound control, eliminating unwanted reflections and standing waves.
Inside the booth, a top-of-the-line grand piano gleamed under the soft studio lights. Next to it stood a collection of high-end guitars.
Brandon turned slowly, taking in the entirety of the revamped studio. Every piece of equipment, every design choice, screamed world-class quality.
'Note to self: Andre deserves a bonus! Guess not everyone's useless round here…'
*Thud!*
Brandon collapsed into the plush leather producer's chair, his body sinking into its embrace. The weight of the past few days crashed down on him, and he let out a long, shuddering sigh. His fingers trembled slightly as he ran them through his silver-grey hair.
"Fuck me," he muttered, closing his eyes.
The cool air of the studio washed over him, a stark contrast to the heat of the spotlight he'd been under.
Gordon stood nearby, his posture impeccable as always.
"Are you alright, Young Master?"
Brandon cracked open an eye, a wry smile tugging at his lips.
"I'm fine, Gordon. Just... processing."
He sat up straighter, gesturing around the studio.
"This studio's incredible, isn't it? But man, I feel like I'm in way over my head."
Gordon's eyebrow arched slightly.
"How so, Young Master?"
"All of this," Brandon muttered, his hand shaking slightly as he waved it at the studio around him.
The weight of expectations—his own, his family's, the industry's—pressed down on him like a physical force. For a moment, he felt like a kid playing dress-up in his father's suit, terrified someone would see through the act.
"The whole FBI situation, the CEO act, the press conference, firing everyone... I've been winging it, Gordon. Playing it by ear and hoping I don't totally fuck it all up."
A chuckle escaped his lips, tinged with a hint of hysteria.
"Heh, I've been trying to channel my vision of a badass CEO. But the truth is, I'm terrified I've got no idea what I'm doing."
Gordon's expression softened, a rare break in his usual stoic demeanor. His voice low and reassuring.
"Young Master, if I may, you've navigated treacherous waters with the kind of poise that many seasoned leaders lack. You may have lost your memories, but your instincts have guided you true. Remember, even the most skilled captain doubts his course during a storm, but he trusts in his ability to see it through."
Brandon looked up, his eyes meeting Gordon's steady gaze.
The tension in his shoulders eased slightly.
Gordon continued, his voice carrying the weight of years of experience and wisdom,
"The mark of a true leader isn't always knowing everything, Young Master. It's having the courage to make tough decisions and the wisdom to surround yourself with capable people."
Gordon's posture softened, and he took a step closer, his polished shoes clicking against the studio floor.
"Young Master, if I may enlighten you on a matter of some importance,"
Gordon began, his crisp British accent filling the room.
"The expectation at Noblesse Oblige Academy for first-year students to possess a company isn't merely a display of wealth or status. It's a calculated approach to education through practical experience."
Brandon leaned forward in his chair, intrigued. Gordon's eyes twinkled with a hint of warmth as he continued.
"The Blackstone tradition of bestowing a substantial startup fund upon heirs when they come of age serves this purpose as well. It's not just about money, you see. It's about facing the world without trepidation, to discover one's true self, strengths, and yes, even weaknesses."
Gordon's hands, usually clasped behind his back, moved expressively as he spoke.
"You're still young, Young Master. The world, as they say, is your oyster. Experiment, make mistakes, and stride forward without fear"
Brandon ran a hand through his silver-grey hair, feeling the silky strands slip between his fingers as he inhaled the cool air, letting it fill his lungs. He held it for a moment, allowing the crisp sensation to permeate his body before slowly exhaling.
"Ahhhh~"
He let out a long breath, feeling the last remnants of stress dissipate with it.
Brandon's eyes softened as he looked up at Gordon.
Brandon looked up at Gordon, the weight in his chest lifting just a little.
"Gordon, I… I don't say this enough, but thank you. I'd be lost without you."
The words were heavy with emotion, a rare crack in the armor he usually wore so tightly.
Gordon's usually stoic expression cracked into a small, warm smile, one that felt like an anchor in the storm.
"It's my pleasure, Young Master. I'm here to support you every step of the way."
As the weight of his responsibilities began to ease, Brandon's phone buzzed in his pocket. The seriousness of the moment gave way to a playful grin as he saw Elise's message.
[ Elise: U-umm, so you haven't forgotten me already, right? ]
Brandon grinned at his screen, feeling a mischievous spark. He typed quickly.
[ Brandon: (づ￣ ³￣)づ What? Forget you? Never! You're mine remember~]
[ Elise: Hmph! ]
[ Brandon: Missed me already? ]
[ Elise: =P That's actually adorable! How do you even do those cute faces? ]
Brandon's fingers hovered over the phone's keyboard, a nostalgic smile playing on his lips. The simple text face he'd sent to Elise had sparked a flood of memories from his previous life.
Leaning back in the producer's chair, Brandon's thoughts wandered to a late-night studio session years ago, the kind of session where the pressures of the industry faded into the background.
It was with Lil Uzi Vert, a reminder that amidst the chaos, it was these genuine, offbeat connections that made everything worthwhile.
Brandon remembered staring at his phone, baffled by the string of symbols Uzi had sent him.
"Yo, what's this?" Brandon had asked, holding up his phone.
̿̿ ̿̿ ̿̿ ̿'̿'\̵͇̿̿\з= ( ▀ ͜͞ʖ▀) =ε/̵͇̿̿/'̿'̿ ̿ ̿̿ ̿̿ ̿̿
Uzi's eyes had lit up, a mischievous grin spreading across his face.
"That's a text face, man! You ain't never seen these before?"
Now, as he sat in this high-tech studio in a parallel universe, Brandon couldn't help but smile at the irony.
Here he was, able to speak freely for the first time in his life, yet still finding joy in these silent expressions.