Fame is falsely looked upon.
It isn't how everyone assumed it to be. It isn't all about the glam and galor, the luxury and wealth. That's only half of the story. It could eat you away, like injecting acid into the core of your soul. The tabloids following your every move, with every new rumor bringing you closer in forgetting how privacy truly felt like. Fans worshipping your new work or project, your own identity changing from the person you know you are into someone your simply played as in a movie. You become Atlas, the primordial Titan. The weight of the sky rest upon your shoulders with every person depending on you to be the role model of society.
I was one of them. Interviews after interviews, public appearances after another, and concerts back to back brought me closer to the breaking point. Closer to the edge. I'm just turning 16 year old next month after all; there was just so much I could handle before I shatter. I'm but just a crystal stone. Elegant and posed for everyone to see, but held so much vulnerability. Breakable. Like any other celebrity, I tried to find an escape from the man-made hell. I tried yoga, spas, and even somewhat desperately followed Madonna and checked out Kaballah. None of them worked. My patience ran thin.
I just didn't realize my escape would be in a form of a person.
- - -
A pair of Chuck Taylors tapped onto the cement floor with a consistent beat. Mikayla strutted along the streets of Los Angeles. She discretely wore a sweater a size too big, with a hood and shades that hid most of her recognizable features just to be able to go outside undisturbed. She was shopping.
The Hispanic singer carried a few bags filled with new outfits she bought. She could almost skip just by the realization of how she finished her shopping with no interruption. No bullshit. She spoke to soon.
Mikayla turned to walk around the corner only to roughly bump into someone. She let out a soft 'oof' before realizing something cold and sweet started to seep through her oversized sweater and on to her top underneath. The brunette checked her chest to see orange juice spilled all over her clothes. She shivered when the sticky substance made contact along her skin.
"Oh my god! I'm so, so sorry! Um, here... er... let me help you with that," Mikayla registered it as a female's frantic voice.
Mikayla became horrified when she felt hands rubbing on her chest as the stranger tried her best to dry it off with the napkins she had. Not wanting to deal with it, she tried her best to stop the helping hands to help further.
She grasped the hands tightly, surprised on how soft they felt in her own, "No, no. It's fine. It's just orange juice. I can just-" Mikayla paused when she finally gazed upon the stranger in front of her. Soft, cafe colored eyes stared back her that were filled with apologetic sincerity. Something stirred inside the singer. She suddenly felt as if their conjoined hands were burned like toxic and immediately let go. The brown eyed girl didn't notice Mikayla's action.
"Are you sure? I'm really sorry about it. I just didn't see you." The shorter teen saw the shopping bangs held by Mikayla, "If you have extra clothes in there, I have my car with me and we could just go to my house that's literally 5 minutes away. You could totally just change there."
Mikayla stared blankly, not quite sure on how to reply, "I-you don't have to..."
The stranger shook her head, "No, I'd feel really bad if I didn't help. I'm serious, my car is just around the corner. Please, you'll make my conscious guilt-free if you do." As an added affect, the teen pouted.
The disguised celebrity debated. Should continue her very long walk going home or should she go with persistent stranger and ruin her cover? Mikayla shuddered as she felt the orange juice trail down her chest. She'll choose the latter.
"Actually, that's a good idea. Would it be okay?"
The shorter teen snorted, "Why wouldn't it okay? I offered. Well anyways, come on. My car's that way!" She turned to the direction to where I came from and I blindly followed beside her. "Oh and my name's Mitchie. You?"
Mikayla hesitated, "Uh, just call me Mickey."
"That's cool. It's just like Mickey Mouse," she smiled at the Hispanic before heading towards to what looks like a brand new Toyota Prius Hybrid.
"Nice ride," Mikayla traced the exterior of the car, impressed by the stranger already. She was green. The brunette hopped into the car and Mitchie put it into ignition.
"Yeah, I just got it after getting my license last week."
She put it on a drive, but Mikayla felt nervous. Did she say that she just got her license? Mikayla cautiously gripped onto her seat waiting for any sudden breaks, but it never came. The ride was as smooth as it could be; Mitchie maitained control over her car while driving like a veteran car driver. A few twist and turns, she drove it into a driveway of a beautiful white house.
Mitchie got the keys out of the ignition and turned to smile at Mikayla, but grimaced instead, "Oh man, that looks really uncomfortable and nasty." Mikayla gave her a look that said 'Yah think?', "We should hurry up then. Come on, my parents aren't home."
Mikayla followed her into the house and straight to her room. She scanned the room and thought it was nice. She noticed a keyboard and a guitar displayed and the computer screen showing garageband. The celebrity had to blink a few times from purple overload. That's a whole of purple. When Mikayla glanced backed at Mitchie, she saw her blushing a faint shade of red. She herself blushed when she realized she voiced out her thoughts.
"Yeah..." Mitchie shifted on her feet, "Purple's my favorite color."
The Hispanic singer snorted, "Well I wouldn't have guessed that. It's a nice room but can I change now?"
Mitchie chuckled at herself, feeling slightly embarassed, "Oh yeah, right. Sorry totally forgot about that. I'll just meet you downstairs when you're done."
She closed the door behind her as Mikayla heard footsteps fading down the stairs. She sighed as she took her shades off and combed through her hair with her fingers before grabbed her sweater to take off. She made a face when she could feel the sticky substance all over her body. She then took off her top and bra that also got soaked. The brunette noticed a door leading to a bathroom and she raced over there. Mikayla turned on the faucet and damped paper towels to wash her chest clean. When she finished, she looked through her bags, thankful that she bought a bra too.
Mikayla put on her new vicky's secret bra and new urban outfitters top. She looked at herself through the mirror deciding not to bother putting on her shades again. She discarded her clothes into an empty bag before opening the door and heading downstairs. Mitchie heard her steps and called out from the kitchen.
"Hey you want any drink? Water, soda, milk, or what about orange juice?" Mikayla was down by the time Mitchie said 'orange juice' causing the singer to give her a death glare.
Mitchie squirmed, "Right, no drinks. Especially orange juice. I-"
She stopped when she finally took in Mikayla's whole image as the guest ventured off to the living room to watch televison. Why does she look so familiar? Mitchie tapped the kitchen countertop and eyed a magazine issue. She checked the front cover and her mouth gaped. It was 'Mickey' on the cover. She had Mikayla freaking Gomez in her home. That changed in her room. Whoa.
Mitchie flinched when Mikayla's voice came up, "Whoa sorry to scare you but I have to go now. Can you give me a ride back?"
The brunette noticed the shorter girl seem slightly more tensed than a few moments ago. "U-Uh, sure. Let's go."
The ride back was silent and awkward. Mikayla figured that Mitchie found out her real identity and just tried to keep her composure. She was sort of disappointed. It was funny listening to her talk all of the time. The Prius went to a stop near the curb. Mikayla muttered a 'thank you' before shifting to open the door.
"Hey wait."
She stopped and turned to see Mitchie biting her lip and staring at her in question.
"So I guess this is where you become a celebrity again and I'll pretend this never happened, right?" Mikayla stayed silent, not sure what to say. Mitchie chuckled, "Don't you think it's fair that at least get a number or something since you practically know where I live."
The brunette blinked a few times. Should she? Mitchie's been nice so far and she doesn't seem to be those kind of obsessed fans ready to rape her. She sighed. She's going to hell for this.
"Give me your hand," she commanded. Mikayla rolled her eyes when Mitchie just stared at her blankly. "Just give me it."
The lighter haired teen brought her hand towards the celebrity and Mikayla grabbed it and a pen. Mitchie tried her best not to giggle when Mikayla started to write on it.
Mikayla clicked the pen before leaning back, "There. Thanks by the way."
Without another word she opened the door and walked off. She just gave Mitchie her number. After a few steps, she started to notice the paparazzi starting to crowd. She frowned. She already missed when she felt normal and invisible to the press. Mitchie came to her mind, making her turn around. In the midst of all the flashing cameras, she could see the Toyota Prius and the girl in staring back at her. Mikayla smiled. Mitchie smiled back. The girl who made Mikayla feel real smiled back.
Disclaimer: No copyright intended.
Like it or not? This is the PREQUEL of "TweetWorld". Tell me what you think about this story. I actually feel really good writing this (: Oh and this story will be rated M next chapter, so be sure to have it on story alert or search of all rates when you visit ff again. Please also check out my other demena fic "On The Line"
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