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...
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
ᴏᴀᴋʟᴇʏ ᴄᴀʀʀɪʟʟᴏ
I barely had the time to process all that Nolan told me. We decided to stay one more day, which we spent trying to distract from the problem. We swam, we watched movies, I'd even played him songs I'd written over the last week as I found a ukulele somewhere in my car. It was the calm before the storm, and we were both dreading what was awaiting us if we entered the real world again.
"I could come with you," I suggested as we were still sitting in the car, in the driveway of his house where two other cars had been sitting, both from his parents I presumed.
"I think they want me there by myself. We wouldn't want you to leave a bad impression, now do we?"
He was acting awfully normal in contrast with his panic attack from yesterday, but I assumed it to be a good sign. He wasn't stressing out about it anymore.
I smiled, and shook my head. He mimicked my expression, a nervous smile as he looked into my eyes.
"Call me later tonight?" I asked him. He nodded, so I put my hand on his cheek, pulling him closer for a kiss.
"I probably won't be seeing you for a while," he said after he pulled away slightly.
"I know," I said. I'd been thinking about it the entire drive over here. "I'll miss you."
"I'll miss you too," he said, closing the distance between us once more, but he pulled away way too soon. He had to go, though, and he knew it too. After a few more seconds of comfortable silence, he opened his door.
"Call me," I said again, giving him a pointed look.
"I will. Bye, Oakley."
"Bye, Nolan."
He closed the door, and I watched as he walked towards his front door where he unlocked the door. He looked behind him one last time, flashing me another smile before he closed his door.
•••
My mind was spinning as I was in bed that night. It took him a while to call me, but I didn't want to miss it when he did call, so I busied myself cleaning my room which I hadn't done in weeks. Lyrics—bad lyrics, to be exact—were sprawled out all over the place. Instruments were in every corner of my room from late night recording sessions. I was just about to tackle my closet when he called, and I practically sprinted towards my phone to pick it up.
"Hi," I said. I loved that he always had the habit of video calling over anything else. Because now I could see his lazy smile, and my nervousness immediately disappeared. Maybe whatever his parents said wasn't all that bad.
"I've been sentenced to three weeks without parole." And just like that, my hopes were crushed.
