“Aaand…voice!”

“Is that how we're supposed to start it?”

“I don't know, voice acting doesn't come with a manual.”

“Neither does voice directing,” Isabella muttered.

The two were cramped together in his room closet, side-by-side. Isabella had her knees up to her face while Owen was relaxed and sprawled out. In the tight space, their voices were confined, never bouncing off the walls. The optimal location for voice recording.

“I'll do my best,” he said. 

“I know you will. But…honestly, I don't know how I want this sound. I just know that it's not my voice that can create this vision.”

“Is that a creative choice?” Owen asked, tone low. 

‘Or your low confidence?’ 

“...maybe I should get a drink—”

“Isabella,” Owen interjected. “Come on. We can do this.”

In front of Isabella was her laptop, a wire sticking from the side and leading to the microphone in Owen's hands. She drew in air through her nose and nodded. Pushing the laptop towards him, Owen read the script in his head for the seventh time. 

Now he was going to read it out loud.

Two hours later and they were out of the closet. Owen stretched his legs like Goku and glanced up at the brunette. Things went pretty well, all things considered. Isabella pointed out particular highs and lows to fit the vibe of the script and he matched accordingly.

“Isabella?”

She didn't reply, thoughtlessly staring into the wall.

“Isabella? Belle? No, wait, that's the doctor. Isla? Isabel? Izzy?” Owen tried again. “Cariño?”

Now that got her attention. “Sorry, just thinking. Saying the theory stuff out loud always just…”

“Gives a new perspective, right?” Owen grinned and pulled himself up from his stretching. “I'm glad. I enjoy listening to you talk.”

“Thank you.” Isabella sent him a smile. “How about we eat?”

“Sure, I'm fine with that, but first…” Owen leaned close to her, his nose angled down. Isabella didn't so much as flinch. “You should take a shower.”

“Oh.” Her face glowed red. Close proximity didn’t faze her but words did. “S-sorry. I, er…yeah. I'll go do that.” As she quickly fled the room, he saw her smell herself and recoil. Yeah, it was a pretty heavy smell. Strangely, Owen didn't mind too much.

He returned to the living room and took his phone out of charging. Two message notifications appeared on the lock screen.

> Mary: hi

> Mary: text when u can

That was eight hours ago. Owen smiled and texted back.

> Owen: Hey! Just got done doing a thing with Isabella! My bad.

He went to his couch, sitting down in the expectation that she would reply. Two seconds later, she did. Mary did not waste a lick of time.

> Mary: !!!

> Mary: a video right?

> Owen: Ophelia told you?

> Mary: ……

> Mary: traitor

> Owen: We both know she's bad at keeping secrets

> Owen: Btw thank you for the mic! Me and Izzy were using it actually

> Mary: <3

> Mary: im glad you like it!!!

> Owen: Can I send you a gift back?

> Mary: pls do

> Mary: im bored here without uuuuuu

> Owen: Come visit then. 

> Owen: Hopefully it won't be as troubling as last time

> Mary: i hope it is (;

> Mary: text me till i go to sleep?

Owen's smile grew and he fell sideways on the couch. She was in Spain, which was seven hours ahead, so it must have been almost one o'clock. 

> Owen: Sure!

> Owen: Let's talk about…….

The conversation went on for another hour. Afterwards, Mary stopped texting. Owen put his phone back in charging and headed to his room.

Isabella took her two hour long bath bomb rather than his suggested shower. Her logic, he assumed, was that one bath was worth five days of no showering.

He laughed at her train of thought. As quiet as she was, she was unintentionally hilarious.

The laptop they used for the microphone was old and musty. The spine of the monitor was broken and the screen turned off and on at random. Before, he would adjust the screen and temporarily fix it but a year ago that strategy stopped working. It was like blowing on a Nintendo 64 cartridge, only for it to not work anymore.

Today, the laptop just barely functioned and managed to live long enough to send the email with the audio data to himself.

Owen raised his arms in the air and cracked his knuckles. Whoever said editing was easy a liar or a natural talent, because that shit was hard. Sitting there for hours upon hours was time-consuming and mentally draining, especially when the storyboard the creator had in mind wasn't possible.

Owen lacked the skill of a professional editor. He wasn’t someone that could see a storyboard and confidently bring it to life. He constantly relied on tutorials, even sometimes for the basic stuff. 

What he lacked in talent or experience, he thought made up for with tenacity. However, as he had learned over the years, there were more people in the world that were tenacious than not. 

Whether the video could stick out, whether it was considered quality or not, hindered not on Owen but Isabella. Isabella and her script were what mattered most. Owen could only pump out a semi-professional video. A tiny speck in the WuTube algorithm. It was Isabella's words and ideas that could transform it into something greater.

Isabella and Isabella alone.