It’s become a game between me and my fans, for them to find Easter eggs in my lyrics and videos and figure out what piece of media each of my songs draws inspiration from. I was so scared that coming out would be the end of my career, but my fans have fully embraced me. And the ones who haven’t, the ones who liked me just for who I pretended to be, well, I haven’t cared enough to read their comments. They can become a fan of whoever Marissa signs next.
leviackermanscravatjust cried again watching your Grammys speech. i’m aroace too, and you gave me the courage to come out to my family.
“I’m glad. I… Thank you. I don’t know what to say, really. You’re really brave.” The knot in my throat thickens. It still feels unbelievable… that my words can have this sort of impact. It makes me feel like this is what it’s all about. The only thing fame is good for.
To connect like this, not just through my music, but to know that me being myself is having an impact on people’s lives fills me with so much gratitude.
Thirty minutes and a collapsed bookshelf later, we call it a day and end the Live.
I decide to unpack some of the boxes in my room before I go home to hang out with my moms and Sonia for dinner, but a call from Mia interrupts my plan.
“Hey!” she says. There’s no video, so I can only hear her voice, but there’s noise in the background, like she’s driving somewhere. “You’re done with your Live, right?”
“Yeah! Just finished. Why?”
“No reason,” she goes on. “So you’re home alone, right?”
“Yeah?” I ask. “Why?”
“No reason.”
“Huh?”
“Okay, bye. I have to go, but I’ll call you back. Love you!” With that, the call disconnects, and I’m left smiling at my phone.
A gentle breeze stirs the curtains, music blaring from my speakers as I arrange my plushies around the desk and across my floating shelves, the soft glow of the evening sun washing over the room through the window. My chest feels light, like I’m floating, but I’m no longer an untethered balloon. The centrifuge hasn’t stopped spinning, but I can keep up with it now, and I’m even enjoying the ride.
When I unearth my keepsake box, a tiny pang goes through my heart. It’s still filled with memories, both old and new. The movie tickets from my and Kai’s first date are nestled next to a snow globe Asher bought me in London. The friendship bracelet Kai, Mia, and I share is tucked around a stack of Polaroid pictures Asher took of us in London. The Levi Ackerman plushie Kai got me forever ago is holding the spoon Mia and I stole at the Grammys. As I rummage through my memories, I realize I no longer want to keep them tucked away, hidden inside a box like it’s a compartment of my heart I’m only allowed to open every once in a while.
This box holds my love for my friends, and I want it on display.
I put the Levi plushie with the spoon next to my pillow and grin. When I think of Kai, it doesn’t hurt to think of the past anymore. If anything, it makes me feel blessed to know we’ve shared so much. Although I haven’t seen him in person since I ended the contract, and the way we parted still nags at me, we’ve spoken on the phone since I cleared his name.
Things are back to normal. Whatever normal means for us.
I’m not sure I even know what that is. For two years, normal meant being out of each other’s lives. Then, all of a sudden, it meant being friends again, together all the time. And right now, he and Asher are in some remote location, probably enjoying the spring breeze in a park. Asher called in a panic the other day when a sheep broke into his living room. Apparently, Muse attacked the sheep in his defense, so Kai’s started calling him Muse in Boots.
Things have calmed down since the Grammys, but Asher’s publicist told them to lay low for now to avoid overexposure. So they’re stuck in the countryside with a vengeful sheep.
I don’t know when I’ll see them again, but for the first time, I know that no matter how long we spend apart, our bond will never fade, even if it changes. I think that’s what Kai meant when he said I would never lose him. You can’t lose someone who’s made and unmade you in so many different ways. They just become part of you.
A sudden banging on the door jerks me from my thoughts. When I scramble to turn off my speakers, “Somewhere Only We Know,” one of my and Kai’s favorite songs, echoes from somewhere nearby. Huh? I can’t quite place where it’s coming from. Did I leave a speaker on in the studio?
My phone buzzes with a text from Sonia.
open the door. thank me later.
I frown at my screen. She’s supposed to be doing her homework. I’m going to kill her.
I rush downstairs when the banging on the door becomes more insistent. “Soni, ya te oí. Un momento.”
But as I swing it open, I find myself staring at the last person I thought would be here.
“Hey.” Kai stands on my doorstep, holding a cup of Froyo. There’s an unfamiliar expression on his face, something soft and shy I’ve only seen flicker through his eyes once or twice in my life.
I freeze, puzzled. “What the fuck?”
“Rude.” He cocks an eyebrow. “Even though I brought you a special delivery…” He shifts his weight from foot to foot, raking his fingers through his hair.
