The ambient lighting of the private studio cast a low, crimson hue over the mixing console as Theo adjusted his grip on the neck of the acoustic guitar.
At that moment, Theo was playing through Snuff.
He just wanted to play.
His fingers moved with a fluid, natural precision, pulling a deeply resonant, melancholic melody from the acoustic strings. When he opened his mouth to sing, his smooth, rich voice carried an immediate, unfiltered vulnerability that cut sharply through the soundproofed room.
"So, save your breath, I will not hear
I think I made it very clear
You couldn't hate enough to love
Is that supposed to be enough?
I only wish you weren't my friend
Then I could hurt you in the end
I never claimed to be a saint
Ooh, my own was banished long ago
It took the death of hope to let you go"
