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
"Can we talk?" Kylan asked. This had become a pattern.
"I have to go,"
"It'll only take a minute," he said, placing his hand on my wrist. "Promise."
I pulled my arm from his grip and crossed my arms. "Can we do it here then?"
"I spoke with Russ the other day. He told me he spoke with you."
"So?"
"I didn't know I was causing you to feel so anxious all the time."
"It's not you," I said, wanting to get that out there. "It's because I'm constantly afraid I'll do something wrong when you're around and screw me over for it, like you used to."
He almost laughed. Almost, but before a noise could come out, he ran a hand over his face and coughed. I rolled my eyes and took another step to walk away, but he followed my movement and stood in front of me again. "How did I screw you over? Why do you think that?"
"Whenever I did something wrong, you were quickest to call me out on it. 'Oh, Nolan, that's not the line'. 'Nolan, you're blocking the view'."
"That's all healthy criticism," he said, his eyebrows drawn together. "I thought you could handle it."
"It's not your job to criticize me." And it didn't help that every time we were together after, he used to use all of that against me. He'd use all of it as proof that I didn't earn my spot in this industry. His judgment was never ending, and apparently now had left me with even more anxiety, especially around him.
"Well, I can't leave the set. It's still sort of my job to be there." He spoke to me slowly, articulating every word as though I was a kid incapable of understanding. "But I can offer you this," he said, pulling something out of his pocket and pulling out my hand, placing the little tin of what I could already smell was cannabis. "I know it helps you with your anxiety."
"I don't smoke anymore. And you can't offer me this. I'm eighteen."
I pushed it away in his direction again. It was a dumb idea.
"Since when has that stopped you?" he asked, laughing as though my rejection was hilarious.
"Weren't you the one who told me it made me it made me 'too bold'?" He didn't like confidence on me, and even now he was trying to manipulate me into what he wanted me to be.
"You were fifteen. And before you start, you insisted. I tried to stop you but you wouldn't listen." He had to compose himself before continuing. "You're now roughly the age I was when I started doing it. Take it."
"I don't want it," I said, already walking away. He basically chased after me.
"Seriously, what happened?" he asked. "I'm trying to do something nice for you. I'm trying to be your friend. But every time I try you just blow me off. Why do you hate me this much?"
I didn't reply. I kept walking instead, not even looking back. I needed to get to my car as quickly as possible. Then I'd be safe.
"Nolan, please. Let's just sit down and talk it out." His hand grabbed my wrist, and I flinched, my arm trying to pull itself out of his grip, but he held on tightly. It got harder to breathe all of a sudden, and the collar around my neck seemed to be shrinking.
Pure panic went through me, my mind spinning in circles. He wasn't mad at me. He couldn't be mad at me.
It shouldn't matter. I shouldn't give a shit about what he was feeling.
"We have to talk about it," he said, his voice stern and confident. He knew how to make eye contact even when emotions were high, which was where he had an advantage over me.
"How's Riley doing?"
Kylan let go of my wrist abruptly, and it was like the strings he had attached to me cut loose. I could breathe again.
"I- I told you that in confidence."
"I told you things in confidence too. That never stopped you. Why should it stop me?"
"What I did was transactional. I did it because I had to."
"Right, like how you 'had to' get off whenever I came over. Was that transactional?"
"You shut up—"
"I was fifteen. You know I'm not perfect, but I wouldn't fuck a fifteen-year-old. Yet I'm roughly the age you started, aren't I?"
"You—"
"I didn't fuck you up. Riley didn't fuck you up. You can't blame us for what you've become."
I'd never seen his eyes water as much as they did now. The tears fell down like a rainstorm with every word I spoke, but I stood my ground. For once, I was in control.
"You have no idea what I've been through," he said.
"You keep saying that, but I do. Your parents kicked you out and still demand money for your siblings, I know. But whether I was there or not, it was bound to happen."
"You could've been there for me when it happened."
"I shouldn't have to carry all that weight."
"Neither should I. I was alone because you left."
He was right about that. I left him to deal with his problem alone when I was the only person he trusted. But I should've never been put in that situation in the first place.
"I'm sorry. You're right. I shouldn't have ghosted you. But you need to understand that I was a kid and I didn't know how to help you. You didn't know how to deal with that shit, how was I supposed to?"
He was silent for once. For once it felt like he was listening.
"God, I'm so fucking pathetic," he whispered.
"You're not pathetic."
"I am, though," he said, and a tense silence hung between us. "I'm sorry. I should go."
"Wait," I said. I dug around in my pocket, remembering the card Russ gave me. But I remembered it must've still been in my character's clothes. "Russ knows a therapist. He says he's specialized in a lot."
He rolled his eyes. "Right."
"It might help."
"I don't need a shrink, Nolan. I need a drink. And a smoke too, so I could use this," he said, holding up the little tin he tried to give to me earlier. "I'll see you tomorrow."
This time he walked away before I could protest.
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AUTHOR'S NOTE:
A short yet very important chapter! Don't forget to vote and don't be afraid to leave a comment! They motivate me a lot (like genuinely, I get into hyper focus from comments lol).
Have a nice day/night/whatever wherever you are <3
