CONTRADICTED STARS || L. PARTRIDGE [1 | EDITING]

O1. Friendship Fakery

⋆·˚ ༘ * 🕯️

I USED TO love waking up. Now, I'm not so sure. Especially when my career is at the edge of a cliff, waiting to be pushed by the limits. What is this career?

Life.

As soon as my cousin Priya stepped through the door, she was consumed by her phone, scrolling through an endless stream of notifications. I could tell from her expression that something was amiss. The next thing I knew, she was glaring at me with a look of disdain.

It didn't take me long to figure out what had happened. My personal account was inundated with comments, all of them critical of my actions and calling me stupid and irrational. It seemed that I had crossed a guy who didn't know how to cook named Louis, someone I had never even heard of before.

To my shock and disbelief, Louis had a massive following, and his supporters were quick to defend him and attack me. I was swamped with hateful comments and messages, and I didn't understand why. How could this stranger have such a powerful influence over so many people? And how had they even recognized me in the first place?

— oh, right.

I nearly forgot that my adoptive parents were, and still are, social media influencers. Growing up in their shadow, I had a love-hate relationship with the word "famous." It once had a thrill to it, but after a certain tragedy, it rang hollow in my ears, sounding egotistical and ostentatious.

Don't get me wrong, my parents earned their success and they're very deserving of it. But I've always felt a little different from them. Not in a way that sets me apart from everyone else, but in a way that allows me to compare our similarities and differences with respect for each other.

See, I'm a private person. They're not, and that's fine since we know how to manage even despite the contraries.

"Unica Hija!" I heard from the other side of the room.

〔 TRANSLATION. Unica Hija means only daughter, while Unico Hijo means only son. The terms are borrowed from the Spanish Language due to the colonisation that happened in the past. 〕

I frowned and hastened towards my bedroom door, opening it and stepping out, "What's going on?"

Dior looked up from his phone, his face filled with a mix of panic and urgency. "Francis! Come here!"

Francis rushed to Dior's side, nearly tripping over the carpet in the process. "What is it?" he asked.

In case I haven't mentioned it, I have two fathers who are openly gay. That might have sounded boastful, but I'm not ashamed to be proud of having them as my parents. Dior is the one who called me, while Francis is the other.

Dior held his phone up to Francis' face, both of them gasped in unison. They turned to look at me and then back to the phone, then back to me.

"Amore," Francis called, using his nickname for me, a nod to his fondness for the Italian language.