Work Text:
A blessing that came come the night was the slight drop in temperature, the cooler breeze that would drift in the studio from when doors opened, and the chilly atmosphere would creep inside, slowly yet surely. But size did not compliment this fortune, and nestling deep inside the twisted building still proved a spot for ignition, with ceiling fans providing warm air instead of a cool one, and compacted rooms only squeezing the hot breaths of employees to swarm their certain stations.
Summer nights only stood as evidence for this scorching phenomenon, as this night was. Although work had reached conclusions for a variety of departments in Joey Drew’s animation studio, deadlines only approached for a certain few, and returning home on time was nothing more than an unheard plea. Contradicting orders took them to no helpful direction, and thus complying only revealed itself as the most valuable option.
After all, the faster things were completed, the closer rest became less inevitable.
Having dismissed the majority of the Music Department that day, Sammy Lawrence slumped against his office chair, exhaling a heavy sigh in agitation. Crumpled papers matted the sides of his desk as another clean sheet spread at its center, a bottle of ink with a pen dipped remaining still by the edge of the wood.
The forced innovation to complete another song for Mister Drew tainted his imagination ragged, and the intuition to come up with a catchy tune for tomorrow’s cartoon enveloped him in difficulty. His brain was a mess of repetitive melodies from all the songs colliding inside his head, and the familiar amalgamations of note patterns reintroduced themselves as old friends from how often he had used the same combinations in previous tunes.
Beats from the drums only followed a single rhythm as his own tired person throbbed from fatigue, Sammy urgently wishing for something new to smack him in the eyes. But if it weren’t the stress of composition, it was the irritation at their other employees that had sunken his mood, and ultimately, he only swerved further from the path he wished to take.
He tapped his fingers against the wood beneath him, shutting his eyes as he tried to avert the pattern present in his mind. Change the drop of the base, add a rest at this particular portion. Perhaps four claps at this part, and half-notes accompanying another rest of some sort…
Humming, he kept his eyes closed as he grabbed the pen and started scribbling the pattern on his paper, letting the flow of the rhythm control his hand until the final drop of the beat. Only when that was complete did he open his eyes and analyze what he had. It was a bit rough, so to speak, but he supposed it was something he could work with. For now, perhaps, this would have to do.
Pushing his chair back, Sammy got up and took a pencil with the sheet, and he walked over towards the piano of the department. Setting himself in front of the keys, he ran a list of possible chords before he slid his pencil’s lead against the sheet, his first experiment of notes in the ready before he played.
He let his fingers rest upon the keys, and following the notes on the paper, he started to play. The quick shift in keys kind of surprised him at the beginning, but he maintained his tempo as he followed each transition with precision. As he played through the entire song, he discovered some areas with alteration requirements, and he circled each portion on the paper for indication to return to later on.
When he completed the piece, he returned to browse the entirety of the paper for observation, realizing that the circles he had done were in nearly every after-break portion of the song which was…about seventy percent of the page. Criticism on chord transition, the improper placement of a rest, an imbalance in the rhythm that made the song sound…mediocre.
“Damn it…” he hissed to himself, the paper screeching as his fingers dug into its surface irritably. Another failed attempt, despite how much further he had gone with this one. It was humiliating, how much struggle seemed to tamper with him now, and he was grateful for the absence of anyone who would noticeably whisper behind his back.
As if he didn’t already hear the constant whispers that were being spoken when they believed he wasn’t listening.
Grumbling profanities, Sammy ran the eraser over the failures in his piece as he started to reconstruct them. Perhaps a harmony in this specific part would better boost the melody, and emphasizing on a set of higher keys in this bridge would make for a nicer entrance to the episode’s pre-climax. Then using a leitmotif would be beneficial by the ending after a repeat mark…Wait…
He paused—somehow the piece didn’t seem like any improvements were being made. His vision only told him that he was somehow making it ten times worse. And running through the whole song with his mind alone again, it might as well be.
Groaning, Sammy slapped the paper against the side of the piano, the keys in the higher spectrum of the instrument chorusing out in agony. It was a good representation of how he was currently feeling, he thought to himself humorlessly as he slipped the paper off the piano and buried his head in his hands, trying to gather a new procedure.
What else? What else could he possibly do to improve the piece? It sounded too repetitive, audibly the offspring from an uninspired songwriter, and this result of his poor efforts only screamed at his face over how unimpressive its sound was to his own ears. But he had no other choice but to complete something before tomorrow, so it could be submitted to Joey Drew for affirmation, and so that it could be transcribed into sheets for each instrument in the band.
There was still so much work to do for this one particular song, this one particular cartoon, and already it was pushing his sanity off the edge. He’d been stranding himself in his sanctuary for way too long, lunch breaks with cold sandwiches his only memory of pausing before he was bombarded with papers and notes and the sound of his instruments, scraping cries in unhealthy melodies.
Alright, Sammy, enough complaining. He had shaken off his ill emotions, it was time to return to work.
Or so he thought.
“Sammy?”
Glancing up from the piano, he found no other than co-worker Susie Campbell standing at the entrance of the Music Department, her coat nestling over her shoulders and her bag slung over one. She gave him the impression that she was already prepared to leave but had decided to check on him, or something of a similar situation.
Still, he cocked his head in curiosity, the late-night hour of the present too deep into the evening for her to still be roaming in the studio.
“Susie, I would have assumed you went home hours ago,” Sammy told her, straightening his spine from his formerly crooked posture. Even in his own ears he could identify how tired he must have sounded, but Susie’s unexpected presence mattered more to him than his fatigued state. She was an endearing and entertaining woman, charming enough that her smile alone could keep Bendy’s unnerving grin off his senses.
“There was a meeting regarding some voice needs, some background singing in the Bendy-opera cartoon,” Susie explained with a small shrug, and she let herself into the department, siding to the piano as she closely studied him. “How about you? I would have assumed you’d have gone home too, until I heard the piano. I assume Mister Drew put you up with another deadline, huh?”
Silently huffing, Sammy positioned his fingers on the piano again, but there was no song they were intending to play. “I have only tonight to complete something—it needs to be done by tomorrow for approval. So far it’s been hard to complete anything without something sounding out of place. I’m still figuring out how I can construct the song with the beat I’ve managed to pen down.”
She swooped towards the floor. “You mean this?” Susie picked up the paper, inclining it towards Sammy’s direction.
“Mhm, yes,” Sammy agreed, accepting the partly wrinkled paper from her and setting it in front of him again. “I apologize for perhaps interrupting your departure. If you wish to go home now you very well may. I’m sure you are tired—it’s been a long day for you. We will see each other again tomorrow, but I am grateful for your brief visit tonight.”
He said this, and thought maybe he shouldn’t have. If he dismissed anyone—Susie Campbell of all people, maybe a wiser choice was to at least escort her to the exit before going back to his piano and discomfort.
She didn’t seem to mind as she giggled a little, and instead of taking her heels out the Music Department, she took her heels closer to him. “Maybe I can help you,” she offered, the dim area almost lighting up when she smiled at him. “Is this for a cartoon I might know about already?” she asked.
“Ah, I believe not,” he responded, turning back towards the piano—he wished the motion didn’t express itself as a bashful act. “It involves Bendy being taken to the hospital by a group of exorcists, and as expected they aren’t the keenest on assisting our little devil. I have seen the storyboards and script, but somehow I still can’t properly pin the best kind of tune to accompany the situation.”
Susie pursed her lips a little, expression calculative.
Noticing her still standing, Sammy slid himself slightly off the bench facing the piano, gesturing for her to sit next to him. She obliged quickly, and then they were seated side by side, the woman smelling sweet of rosemary while Sammy was aware of his stench of sweat. Being secluded in his sanctuary provided him with little air, the heat always torching his skin whilst he worked. Most days he didn’t mind, but without explanation his consciousness rose with her positioned directly beside him.
“Well,” she started again, and he recaptured what had waddled off from his composure, “I do admit that what I heard earlier tonight was already really good. I could imagine it playing behind a montage of them abusing Bendy. Just start by not being so hard on yourself.”
He breathed out a short chuckle. “Thank you.”
Even when his opinion on his work graded it with a failure, it was endearing to hear that stranger ears enjoyed it. He wasn’t new to the feeling—since his composing days as a child, it was not the easiest to accept his own doings no matter the praise others would claim. Sometimes the biggest critics to art were the artists themselves, and this stood truthful no matter what artistic medium was involved. Music was no exception.
Sammy continued, “I tried reworking some portions of the song to slow down the rapid change of pace. The notes encountered in section B originally had a bouncier feel to them, but following this formula would sound too much like some of my former compositions for released cartoons. I would avoid repetition if necessary. The same dilemma follows for sections F and G, but so far I haven’t got a clue yet on how to improve them.” He gestured to each portion of the song respectively.
She nodded her hand as if she understood it, but Susie was a woman swallowed by her own mysteries. She was talented, certainly, but he wasn’t the man to easily grasp how deep anyone’s talents ran. He focused more on his own objectives and those of what were told of him, and kept to those instead of delving into others’ territories. Often enough too many were woes to him, giving him more reason to shut himself outside anyone else’s sarcastic and aggravating domains.
“I suppose that’s the same for all those crumpled papers at your desk?” Susie guessed, stealing a glance at his packed area, at the mess of papers that would make Wally Franks groan upon seeing.
“It is, unfortunately,” Sammy confessed, sinking his pinkie on one of the keys. Its singular note rang in the dark as they spoke. “The studio has been more than successful in ratings recently, and it’s obviously getting in some capacity to Mister Drew’s head. More rushed cartoons for release, and so more songs to be made. He’s been having more characters designed too upstairs, one of them being…Well, I wouldn’t want to spoil it for you yet.”
Startling, her eyes dilated. “What is it?”
Sammy couldn’t help a small grin. “I wouldn’t wish to say much but…They might be looking for a small female touch at some point. Please don’t take my words too seriously—I’m not the one who would contain this kind of in-depth information. Anyway…”
Peripherally, she raised an eyebrow at him, her perfect lips forming a suspicious smirk. She could tell he was playing with her, and to this he cleared his throat, hoping to get back to his deadlines before his little play of words could become an entire game.
He dug in his fingers to the piano, and looking at the remaster of his notes, tried to play through it all again in examination. Susie remained silent as she watched him, observing the song and his movements with each note that floated over their heads. And Sammy, through this process, mentally recorded all of his needed tweaks before he reached the end of the song, the last notes dragging in the dark room.
When he relaxed again, Susie clasped her hands together. “You really play beautifully,” she complimented, her formerly skeptical smile melting back to sugary and kind.
“Thank you,” he said again, but this time his focus was more on the paper as he reached out his pencil, ready to erase. “I have a few adjustments, however.” He started to connect the lead to the sheet, but Susie’s hand overlapped the paper first. He turned towards her, and she gave him another chuckle.
“I have a suggestion, just a quick one,” she said, tenderly retreating her hand and placing it on her lap. “Have you tried to play impromptu on the piano tonight, or on your banjo? Have you tried just mashing notes together and listening to its flow instead of planning it out on paper first?”
“Well, not quite…” Sammy faltered, cutting glances at the sheet and back at the keyboard, then very briefly once, at her. “I haven’t tried to use that kind of flow yet since it usually results in familiar tunes. It doesn’t help that I couldn’t freeform anything at the moment even if I wanted to. I apologize, Miss Campbell.”
“No, you don’t have to! I, uh, here.” She pressed a delicate finger on a random key, and let it echo in the room. “How about trying to press any other random key now?”
For a moment he remained quiet, not the most certain in what she was planning to achieve. But he nonetheless followed her example and pressed a key at random, and the D and C chords were formed into the beginning of a new pattern. It then hit him what she was trying to do, and he forced back a shallow gasp of surprise over her tactic.
And noticing his realization, Susie took the initiative to press the same D note. Then she winked, pulling her hand back.
Sammy exhaled at the selection of chords, pressing the three repeatedly in different tempos. It was a tedious process, this method of trial and error from a professional such as himself with observing eyes at his side, but he forced his concentration as he tried to shove a rhythm to the front of his mind. He closed his eyes, tried to hum, tried to jump to a fourth note that would complement the previous three.
Then he struck Db, and he paused. Susie raised her brows next to him as Sammy propped both his hands on the piano, and he let his left hand take control. D, C, D, Db, he let himself begin with a basic transition between chords as a melody started to form through his humming. He then prepared his right hand as he kept the continuous quartet of chords going, and after one more glance at Susie, he played.
It came buttery smooth, the rare melody of this new song, the jumping of his fingertips as his left hand jammed its keys in its required tempo. The bouncy tune floated over the co-workers as he concentrated on the next keys to shove down, the impromptu song he could shape playing behind Bendy through a chase in black and white.
As the song prolonged, he became more playful, his left hand shifting quicker to family notes that gave the lost flavor he needed. And even with this he geared to unplanned choruses and verses, letting the flow of the song possess his imagination and his musical fingers, bringing the song to life.
And as he played, Susie’s smile didn’t falter.
When he finished and dropped the final note, he stared at the keys in amazement, at how the process actually worked and brought out an output from this wretched night. He almost laughed, but he let his professionalism take the lead as he flipped the paper over and immediately scribbled the pattern down before he could forget. He inked each note and rest with the chords as he processed the whole song into paper in the matter of seconds, each memorized line materializing through his penmanship instead of through his musical imagination.
Upon completion, he flipped the paper over and slashed a giant X on his previous attempt, and that motion was what emitted a laugh. He faced Susie, and seeing her amused expression, the dance in her gaze, he bowed his head in appreciation. “Thank you. I didn’t expect that to work as well as it did. You saved me my next four hours.” He chuckled again at that, one which Susie returned gleefully.
“No worries, Director Lawrence,” she chided, a finger inches away from another random key on the keyboard. “I knew you had it in you no matter the method. You just needed the right trigger, you know?”
“I suppose,” he agreed, returning his keys to the keyboard. A shortage of silence hung between them before Sammy said, “Miss Campbell, if you don’t mind, would you like to press another key for me to work with?”
With a proud hum, Susie said, “I’d be glad to.” And so she did.
And he let the note be the base for his composition, this time Sammy’s choice in chords and melody being his as he took the song into another whole direction, another tempo entirely. Although this one was much simpler than the previous one, the duo bopped their heads as his fingers sank into their respective keys in unison, Susie humming what worked as a probable vocal melody as he kept the song intact.
It was a two-minute jam, but it was a fun two minutes for the pair as the song settled and reached its conclusion. Sammy couldn’t help but feel warm inside as Susie continued to hum the melody in spite of the song’s end, still entranced by their short doodle of a merry tune. The dimness of the studio didn’t wash out any of the enjoyment itched into each muscle in her expression, a childlike, carefree attitude swaying her and overwhelming her.
He didn’t think he’d be so glad to see her this happy.
And as she still hummed, Sammy secretly sought through the keys again, a finger hovering over each one as he decided when to strike his next tune. Then when she didn’t expect him to, he landed his right hand on the higher keys, pressing them in a harp-like pattern.
Susie stopped as she swerved to see what he was doing, and he continued, an angelic melody now engulfing them with its jazzy, lonely-esque tune exiting the keyboard.
Sammy let the melody dance from his fingers as Susie caught up to the song, forming a new humming melody as she followed his chords appropriately.
And as Susie’s sweet voice blended into his instrumentation, a synesthesia built itself behind his eyes: a woman and a man dancing through the streets of perhaps France, the man head over heels for her as bystanders’ chests throbbed with visual heartbeats. But the woman continued to hum and sing as she shared her affection to the main man, tickling his chin and kissing his cheek. The man would reel back and collapse, lovingly staring at the sky as if touched by an angel from heaven.
It was exciting how music can take the mind to so many unseen locations, vaults of masterpieces spewing from just a collection of notes and rests, varying tempos that could indicate messages behind emotion and intention. Weaving himself with the scene with the correct chords in hand, Sammy was just one of many composers that managed to help bring creations to life, his music adding its layer to all the animations and storytelling collaborated on by everyone in the studio.
He could promise the hardships in intertwinement with the characters and personas involved in composition, but it was still a worthy process in the end. Despite his sour mood in creating these songs on most days, perhaps he had the praise of hearing that others enjoyed their hard work: kids clapping at Bendy’s victories and adults submitting entries for year-end nomination activities.
And Sammy would be lying if he didn’t say that their compositions in the Music Department were what gifted Joey Drew Studios with a lot of sound-and-song achievements.
As he proceeded playing, Susie hadn’t missed a beat, but as he dove into another series of chords that made up a bridge, he nearly startled when Susie broke out of her humming to singsong, “She-boop-de-boop-boop, she-boop-de-do, wow!” Then she broke into laughter, covering her mouth with a gloved hand as she contained her golden giggles. “I’m sorry!” she chuckled, her shoulders bouncing along with her curls of hair. “I couldn’t help it and I thought it was appropriate!”
“It was…a cute addition to the song,” Sammy admitted, laughing himself as he kept the song going. “If I ever remember this song, I’d be sure to ask our lyricist Jack to include that.”
“Aww, you don’t have to, Sammy,” she teasingly said, body straightening with confidence. “It was merely a joke.”
“Can’t stop me,” he challenged calmly, earning a small wrinkle by her nose as her head tipped sideways in disappointment. Sammy huffed out another breathy laugh. “I’ll note this song in my notebook—it feels like it’d be such a great song to broadcast for others to hear. It has a good toe-tapping build to it that I enjoy.”
“Have me sing it,” Susie joked, rolling her eyes playfully.
“Hm, perhaps,” Sammy considered, bringing the song towards its closure. “If I so choose, you’d be a remarkable singer for a song this wonderful. I could just imagine your singing to earn the studio another award. It’s a suitable role for you to play.” He fell quiet, then said, “Thank you again for helping me compose for tomorrow, and for this little fun we’ve had tonight. Spending time doing music with you was the highlight of my day.”
Flushing, Susie bobbed her head once, sophisticatedly folding her hands over her lap again. “It was a pleasure, Mister Lawrence. You are one of many great people in this studio. I would look forward to spending more time with you. This was truly fun.” Not noticing Sammy burn a little scarlet too, she waited until he was at his last few chords before once more singing out, “She-boop-de-boop-boop, she-boop-de-do, bow~!”
Sammy slammed the last keys, ending the third song with a brilliant bang.
By the time Sammy had decided on departing, it was nearing ten in the evening. After one more expression of gratitude, he had accompanied Susie out the studio earlier before she was officially gone, and Sammy had returned to the Music Department to clear up his workplace and arrange his papers. He had inserted his new compositions into his notebook, labeling each with suiting placeholder titles (Demon Dispatchers, Doodle #3, and Heaven’s Song) before retiring the notebook into a shelf.
Then with all papers in order and his work area conditioned for another tiring tomorrow, Sammy took his leave from the studio and left the building.
All the while, the last song they had jammed to was still stuck in his head, the songwriter humming it as the subway resumed its routine in the night. And returning to their conversation on Susie’s wonderful voice to join in with the phenomenal tune, with the beautiful synesthesia in his head, maybe there was just an idea he wanted to pitch over to Mister Drew sometime soon involving their new character. Maybe, just maybe.
Because the beauty of what he had composed, with the sweet sugary texture that Susie added, he wanted the song to be their little secret for a while.