NO.

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"No."
"Lawrence you are going to this interview, end of story." Gwen states firmly.
"But I don't want to.." Lawrence mumbles.
"How could you be so selfish!? Just do it for your mother."
It doesn't take a profiler of any kind to realise that Gwen is manipulating Lawrence into doing everything she wants, but he doesn't want to acknowledge that, he doesn't want so acknowledge that his own mother sees him as an object.

Lawrence makes the safer choice of agreeing with his angry mother. But the safer choice isn't always the right one. As he steps in the car and closes the door, that all too familiar tinging feeling in his face alerts him that's he's about to cry, he hates when he cries, when he cries his mother tells him how pretty he is, that he's a special boy.

He hates it.

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After a few long minutes of silent driving the car comes to a sudden and unpleasant stop, earning a slight grunt from Lawrence. He peers out the window and sure enough the car is parked in front of a large, tall office building. Lawrence is fighting the urge to break down and sob uncontrollably for the next decade. unluckily for him, that isn't an option. He swallows his sorrow and opens the car door, stepping out of the vehicle. He counts his steps as he walks over to the entrance of the building, he barely gets to five before he gets pushed the rest of the way.

The interview was rather short for an interview, but for Lawrence it wasn't nearly short enough. Luckily today was one of the days he doesn't have to do much, so he then got driven home. The drive home was quiet. Apart from the radio playing 'I don't smoke' by 'Mitski'. Every time Lawrence thought of something to say he thought about the possible responses. None of them were good, so he kept quiet. When the car stopped in front of home, he bolted from the car, jolting along the footpath to the door, he almost breaks his wrist turning the doorknob, he speedily walks inside and goes to his room, closing the door behind him. He sits down at the bottom of his door. The inevitable happens. He breaks down, weeping like a baby as he spirals into a handful of thoughts that if he said out loud would get him put into a mental hospital. After a while he falls asleep there, on the floor, tears staining his perfect skin. But as he drifts to sleep somebody else wakes up.

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