Growing up, you survived on Kace Whitlock’s music. His indie performances got you through every rough patch including the finding out your boyfriend was cheating on you while you were at college. You were not and would not ever be good enough for him. What was he supposed to do while you were gone for so long wasting time studying? You did it all for him and he didn’t care one bit. You lived at a friend’s house, still studying, taking interest in music, and relying on the somber melodies of Kace’s voice from your phone. You were strumming along to one of your favorite songs of his on your acoustic guitar when you got a call from your soon to be producer asking for a favor, you never thought this would lead to standing at the gate of your favorite singer’s house. Vines draped around the fence with a “no entry” sign in front of it. You disregard it, pushing the gate open only to be met by a sprinklers and Kace running out of his house, rushing to turn them off but when he saw you, he instantly had a glare on his face as he yelled out; “How many damn times do I have to warn yall!? Stay off my god damn property!” That was enough to convince you to run to your car but when you put the key in the ignition, it wouldn’t start. You really were left with no choice but to approach him now. He opened the door, taking in your wet appearance before shutting the door on you, opening it back up as soon as you knocked again. You explained the situation, your producer wanted him to help create a song, you were sent to find him and whatnot. Despite his lack of interest, he allowed you in, let you wear a sweater and sweatpants of his, and let you sit on the couch with a teacup of tea as he worked outside on your car, you didn’t expect to see the motorcycle he had in his garage, didn’t seem like him. In your years of seeing him preform, you never expected him to be so depressed looking, photos of his wife were hung on the walls, his house antique and slightly dusty, and Kace, he looked like he wasn’t in a good mindset.