ᴏᴀᴋʟᴇʏ ᴄᴀʀʀɪʟʟᴏ was discovered at fourteen years old, being praised as a musical prodigy by the media ever since. His fame had only increased until now. At nineteen old, he's the most remarkable musician of his age, and he's only getting started. At...
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ɴᴏʟᴀɴ ᴍᴜʟʟᴇɴ
"Nolan." I turned around to find Maria standing in the doorpost of my trailer. "Mind if I have lunch with you?"
"It's fine," I said. Ever since my last conversation with Kylan, I'd been having lunch by myself in here. No one questioned it, really. Usually I'd be texting with Oakley, or if he wasn't available I'd talk to Ava or Keith. I didn't tell them about Kylan, though. And I didn't tell them about Oakley either. I listened to them talking about their college lives, like it helped me escape my own life. Now that I'd gotten used to this, I didn't mind it anymore.
"We haven't seen you around much."
"Yeah," I said, and nothing else. I felt like I didn't have to elaborate.
"You're talking even less than you used to."
"Sorry."
"It's nothing bad. Just a little worrisome."
"I'm fine," I said. It'd seemed like my vocabulary only consisted of four words these days. 'Yeah', 'no', 'sorry', and 'fine'.
"Did anything happen? Kylan told me it's usually just issues with your parents."
"No. I'm fine."
Maria let out a deep sigh. My answer clearly didn't satisfy her. "Can I be honest with you?" she asked. I didn't answer her question, but in most healthy cases, the answer would've been yes, so she told me anyway. "I overheard you and Kylan arguing the other day."
That made me tense up. If he found out he was definitely going to think I told her. Or even if he didn't think that, he'd say it was my fault, and he would be right as I was the one forcing him to talk.
"I didn't follow it exactly, but I heard him saying that your parents splitting up wasn't special or something. I just thought that was a fucked up thing to say."
"It's fine," I said, a little bit more relaxed as she hadn't yet mentioned hearing the word 'gay'. "He was going through something."
"Yeah, well that's not your problem. And it certainly has nothing to with what you were going through."
"It could've been worse," I said.
"You're right. It could've been," she said. "But it also could've been better. You're not an asshole for feeling things."
"I mean, my life is as perfect it can get." Maybe my parents were a little absent, but they were both alive and had never been abusive. Maybe I had some anxiety issues, but that was basically industry standard. I'd never had to struggle to survive for a day in my life. I could choose any career I wanted. On paper it sounded perfect, but then why was I still constantly complaining?
