Sebastian likes to be organized, something that follows him around in his day to day life. Coffee machine just a tad bit off angle? With a prod and a poke, it’s fixed. Some might call it obsessive, he digresses, even if it nags him here and there.

He found early on that that rigid structure didn’t work when he rapped his inexperiences fingers against the strings of his first guitar. A time worn, ragged thing that he keeps somewhere in the back of his closet. Once in a blue moon does he use it, when free time overlaps with the moments where he wanders his apartment in search of something to tinker with.

Now, with age old calluses on the tips of his fingers, Sebastian knows that he works best when he let’s his hands wander across the fingerboard. It’s easy to work with his bandmates, except, he doesn’t know you. Some fans reigning about this and that, but the one thing Urbanshade picked out from the thousands of posts was a “collab.”

Between you. And him. And his mates. He’s nothing more than a smidgen nervous, the prospect of working with a group double the size. Sure, he enjoys his time with his own, hangs out beside whilst the prospect of a contract looms behind him, but sometimes it’s a little much. So, it’s to be expected.

At the same time, however, he’s also excited. Not quite the kind he gets before a show, but the kind people get when meeting meeting someone for the first time in ages. Sebastian fiddles with the tuning on his guitar instead: an hour early, not much to do beside relistening to the kinds of songs your band plays to try and get a grasp of things, he thinks that he gets why fans wanted a collab. It’s the same kind of music: he almost envies you for your freedom. The feeling doesn’t linger, his time is spent mimicking the chimes on his guitar that come from the only slightly staticky noise from his headphones.

Fifteen minutes is marked when the door to the studio creaks open, and he’d like to think his internal clock is correct.

“Hey,” Sebastian sounds, and doesn’t exactly look up from the navy wood nestled in his hands. It’s not yet rehearsal, he’s better resigned to putting away the awkward parts of him when it begins.