That's Not Me

I Can't, I Won't!

Y/n's P.O.V

Pulling up to my parents Beverly Hills home, I tried to stop my body from shaking. Though my heater was on in my car, there was still this coldness lingering about. I shut my eyes for a moment, mentally preparing myself for what might happen as soon as I enter the house.

As day faded into night, I loved watching the sky turning from blue to gray to orange and yellow at the western rim of the world. At sunset, the sunlight shined through the trees more beautifully like a painting, and rustle in the breeze. As soon as the sun dropped below the horizon, 15 minutes after I had arrived, I finally decided to get out and make my way towards the front of the house.

Looking around the all too familiar neighborhood, I saw a family: parents and 2 children out for a late evening walking. Laughing and chatting about who knows what, I felt a sense of deja vu. I had been like them once, a long time ago, for just a moment. Or so I thought, because I learned the moment was only an illusion. I turned away from the blissful family, wishing that I could erase my memories forever and never have that feeling again.

I knocked on the door, and I could hear the fast footsteps coming my way, then it opened. I smile when I see Alfred, our family butler in front of me. I couldn't help but hug him, happy to see him.

The old man had his white hair slicked back into a neat combover with a nice fade on his side, and his mustache neatly trimmed. His round glass hanging a little on the tip of his nose, slipping down occasionally. He never seemed to mind. And his smile, wide as ever. For an old man in his 60s he looks good for his age.

"Little Y/n/n" He said, cheery and excited I actually showed up. "It had been too long. Please" He gestured me to enter the home. I looked around the marble interior, and the painting, vases and chandelier that screamed expensive. I always hated the feeling I would get just by being here. The feeling of being in a museum scared to touch anything, or even breath close to something. Even the sounds of my footsteps echoing made it more unbearable.

"Mother and father, are they--"

"Waiting for you in the living area" Alfred was quick to cut me off. Sensing my hesitation he didn't bother to guide me to see them, not now at least. "I've know you for quite sometime, y/n/n" He said walking by my side, slowly. "So I know you're not someone who is open with their emotions. This time with your new career move, you must be really scared about the opinions your parents might have on you." He smiled

"You and I know I have wanted this for a long time." I told him, keeping a snail like pace as I continued to walk. He grinned.

"How can I forget the secret concerts you would preform in your bedroom. I still have the scar from when you tried to teach rose and I the newest dance choreography." He laughed.

"But that's not what's really on your mind. Is it?" I decided to cut the small talk short. I loved Alfred and knew he was just looking out. But I didn't have time to be eased into a serious conversation.

"I don't want to ask about the situation between you and Ms. Steinfeld, but your parents" he paused for a moment, averting his eyes away from me. "I can't bear to see you sacrifice everything for someone and then be rejected by them. I don't want you to be sad because of anyone"

I tried hard to study his words. Alfred was those old and wise type of old man. A grandfather to me, who treated me like part of his family. Everything he always told me I took to heart. But other times, like right now, I tried to understand what he was trying to tell me. Reading between the Iines.