[ Sorry Seems To Be The Hardest Word ]

Julian leaned towards Derrick, his voice low and tense.

"How bad do you think the new owner's tirade will be?"

Derrick's face twitched, betraying a flicker of fear before settling into a mask of arrogance.

"Hmph. What's he gonna do? Fire us?"

He puffed out his chest.

"If he dares, I'll threaten to leave with the entire A&R department. What label can function without A&Rs?"

Julian's eyes lit up, a sly smile spreading across his face.

He patted Derrick's shoulder, clearly pleased with the bargaining chip he'd just been handed.

"Brilliant, old chap."

Fred's eager face popped up from the row behind them.

"If the brat dares touch us, I'll leave too!"

Julian and Derrick exchanged a look, rolling their eyes in unison. They were both acutely aware of how inconsequential Fred was to the company.

Derrick cut in, his voice gruff.

"Whatever the case, if he dares even raise his voice toward us, we have to present a united front and stick it to the kid."

Julian nodded, a determined glint in his eye.

"Agreed. We won't let some spoilt teenager push us around."

Brandon rose from his seat, his movements fluid and purposeful.

The air in the theater seemed to crackle with anticipation, all eyes magnetized to his imposing figure as he strode towards the stage.

Julian, Derrick, and Fred tensed visibly, their faces a mix of apprehension and defiance.

They braced themselves for the impending storm, expecting a barrage of criticism and threats.

But Brandon never once glanced in their direction. His eyes remained fixed on the stage, his expression unreadable.

The executives exchanged confused looks, their rehearsed rebuttals dying on their lips.

Brandon's footsteps echoed through the silent theater as he climbed the steps to the stage. At the side of the stage stood a grand piano, its polished surface gleaming under the spotlights.

Brandon approached it, his hand trailing along its smooth edge. He picked up a microphone from a nearby stand, the metal cool against his fingers.

With practiced ease, Brandon attached the mic to the stand by the piano.

The soft click as it locked into place seemed to reverberate through the theater.

Brandon settled onto the piano bench, his posture relaxed yet poised. His fingers hovered over the keys, a moment of anticipation hanging in the air.

Brandon's fingers danced across the piano keys, coaxing out a gentle, melancholic melody. The theater fell silent, all eyes fixed on the young man at the grand piano.

His voice, rich and emotive, filled the space as he began to sing.

"What I got to do

To make you love me?

What I got to do

To make you care?"

Julian and Derrick exchanged confused glances, their brows furrowed.

This wasn't the tirade they'd expected.

Jessie leaned forward in her seat, her eyes flashing heart signs. Other department heads nodded appreciatively, captivated by Brandon's soulful performance.

In the back row, Andre sat frozen, his half-raised hand suspended in mid-air, the blunt dangling forgotten from his fingers.

As if in a trance, he extinguished it in the cupholder, his eyes never leaving Brandon.

For the first time in years, Andre felt the fog of disillusionment lifting.

He sat up straight, his posture mirroring the awakening happening within him. In Brandon's performance, he heard an echo of why he'd fallen in love with music in the first place

Brandon's voice swelled, each word a deliberate strike against the complacency and arrogance festering within the company.

"What'll you do

When lightning strikes you?

And you wake to find

That you're not here?"

Julian's face paled, a cold sweat breaking out on his forehead as the meaning behind Brandon's lyrics began to sink in.

Derrick's cocky demeanor crumbled, replaced by a look of growing unease.

They shared a worried glance, the weight of Brandon's words sinking in.

Brandon's fingers glided across the keys, his voice softening as he reached the chorus:

"What do I say when it's all over?

Sorry seems to be the hardest word"

Julian and Derrick turned to each other, their frowns deepening.

Brandon's fingers danced across the keys with effortless grace as he hit the falsetto, his angelic voice soaring through the theater:

"It's sad, so sad

It's a sad, sad situation"

His gaze swept over the group of executives, predatory and intense, as he continued:

"And it's getting more

And more absurd."

Julian's fists clenched, his knuckles turning white as Brandon's voice filled the air:

"It's sad, so sad

We ain't gon' talk it over

Oh, it seems to me

That sorry seems to be

The hardest word~"

Brandon's voice shifted into a series of powerful ad-libs, showcasing his impressive range and vocal prowess:

"YeeeAAAAhhhHH"

"Ohh~ ohhHH~"

The piano melody flowed beneath his voice as he continued:

"OhhhhYeaa~"

"Na na na nanana~"

Suddenly, Brandon's voice soared into a high-key falsetto that sent shivers down everyone's spines:

"Don't bother saying SooOOrrrYYYy~"

*THUD! *

The piano cover slammed shut, the sound reverberating through the stunned theater.

Brandon rose from the bench, his movements fluid and deliberate. Without a glance at the executives, he strode off the stage, his footsteps echoing in the silence.

As he passed the last row, Gordon fell into step behind him with the silent efficiency of a shadow. An impressed smirk played on the older man's lips, a silent acknowledgment of the young master's masterful performance.

The theater door swung open, then slammed shut with a resounding bang that seemed to punctuate Brandon's unspoken message.

*BANG! *

The executives, artists and staff remained frozen, still entranced by Brandon's performance.

The haunting melody lingered in the air, a testament to the raw talent and emotion they'd just witnessed.

Julian and Derrick exchanged worried glances, their earlier bravado completely shattered.

The realization of what Brandon's performance truly meant dawned on them, and fear crept into their eyes.

In her seat, Jessie sat motionless, her fingers unconsciously brushing against her lips.

The memory of the accidental kiss in the bathroom cubicle flooded back, intertwining with the haunting melody still echoing in her mind.

Her cheeks burned, but whether from embarrassment or something deeper, she couldn't be sure. Admiration, fear, and a blossoming attraction collided within her, leaving her breathless and confused.

The tense silence was suddenly broken by Andre jumping to his feet, his voice booming through the theater.

"Bravo! FUCK YES! That's what I call music!"

Andre hastily straightened his hoodie, his eyes wide with a newfound spark of excitement.

He clumsily rushed across the seats towards the entrance, muttering under his breath,

"Please be there, please be there… I can't get fired now!"

For the first time in years, Andre felt a genuine worry about losing his job. Brandon's performance had reignited the flame of his passion for music production.

His mind raced with possibilities, his dream of being part of creating great art suddenly seeming attainable again.

He reached the door, his hand trembling slightly as he grasped the handle.

With a burst of energy, he swung it open, ready to chase after Brandon.

But as the hallway came into view, Andre's face fell.

Brandon was nowhere to be seen, having vanished as quickly and mysteriously as he had appeared.