Eli Borrelli

56: Changes

Eli POV.

Everything after the Grammys was a pile of shit. Not a bad one, but like a little pile of shit with a bow tie on top. My ratings, streams, and social media blew up along with my phone. Luckily I was smart enough to have my agent take all the calls about work and stuff, but it felt like every single person on my contact list, and so many more, wanted to personally congratulate me, and ask me for free tickets.

At school, things were weirder, than ever. Everyone was super nice to me, even the teachers, and my friends had to push people away since I was too much of a people pleaser to do so myself. Lucky for me, I guess, I already went to a school of rich people, so a celebrity wasn't a big reach. Also, not a lot of people knew about my brothers, since my last name was still Jones. I really should change that too. 

My brothers were on my case about everything, asking me how I was going to deal with things and what they should do, which I knew was coming from a place of love, but it was infuriating. Still, they were so supportive that I actually started to cry, when we got back home from California. They had a whole thing prepared with cake, drinks, streamers, and a huge banner with Congratulations, written in bubble letters. Even Antonio was in a good mood for once and actually hugged me.

I did a lot of interviews, each one more idiotic than the last, but I powered through.

"What's going to happen to the mask now, that you took it off?"

I just stared at the man for a few seconds, blinking, not sure, what he was expecting, since I was literally wearing the mask right there.

"The mask came off, and it went back on. I think I'll keep on wearing it to most things, but I'm just not going to be worrying as much about people seeing me without it," I shrugged. 

I really liked the mask, it was what I had been doing ever since I started, and taking it off completely would be too radical for me. Plus, Diego made it and I was never good at disappointing him.

"Why did you choose to wear a mask in the first place," a young woman asked. 

She was sitting with her legs crossed, silently tapping the air with her red heels. She had on a tight skirt and a white blouse. She was well styled and had clearly spent time getting her hair ready, which was a bit odd to me, but who am I to judge.

"I was living in a home, with a lot of rules and punishments for breaking them, so I couldn't have my parents hearing about their kid playing rock, now could I?" I said trying to make up a good enough answer. It was hard finding the line between not telling too much, sharing something, and still telling the truth.

"Do you want to tell us more about that situation?" the woman asked, her reporter smile faltering just a bit with sympathy.

I thought for a while, before opening my mouth again.

"My parents were horrible, sadistic fucks, who enjoyed hurting a little kid," I said putting it into as few words, as I possibly could.

The interviewer saw, that I didn't like the subject, so she went back to her premade questions.

"Why did you decide to take the mask off? In earlier interviews you've said, that it was a game-time decision, but did you plan on ever taking it off?" the woman asked tilting her head a bit.

"A game-time decision is a wonderful name for it since I've just called it the when-did-that-happen decision," I chuckled earning a laugh from the woman, who I'm pretty sure was called Cindy, or something like that. I wasn't going to try my luck.