𝗁𝗈𝗅𝗅𝗒𝗐𝗈𝗈𝖽 𝗎𝗇𝗍𝗂𝗍𝗅𝖾𝖽 | 𝐦𝐢𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐞𝐥 𝐚𝐟𝐭𝐨𝐧

i. halo full of fire

(y/n)'s perspective

i groaned, slipping my arms through a collared-white button up shirt. there was a name tag slot on it that had yet to be filled.

i'd work there a week maximum, so what did it matter?

"yeah, tony. ah uh, i'll pay the rent soon. i just need..." i paused, holding the phone up to my ear by placing it on my shoulder and holding it steady with my head.

"7 days? maybe 8?" i flipped through my calendar.

"im tired of your crap (y/n). you said that 8 days ago. you need to pay up or else i'll have you out on the street again. i cant keep paying for scums like you to leech off of my generosity." tony yelled through the phone, with his italian accent blaring through the speaker of my small burner phone.

"yes i know! but i promise this time! i mean it, tony. you can trust me." i reassured, keeping the phone there as i stepped into black dress-pants and tied my belt against my waist.

"you said that last time. look, (y/n). you have eight days. just please. get your shit together." tony begged, before hanging up on me.

i signed, letting the phone drop onto my bed as i folded the black tie around my neck and grabbed my hat, reading out SECURITY in big bold letters as i tied my hair up and threw it on my head.

i've been job hopping for maybe a few months now? i cant even remember anymore.

growing up, i was certain i was set for life.

i was a child actor, starring in a popular 80's television sitcom as a character known as 'rue,' an 8 year old cutie meant for adorable-relief, if that's even a word.

but money comes and goes. once the lights and the camera go away, you're left with nothing but crippling embarrassment and soon-to-be inherited family debt.

well, god knows i begged, borrowed, and cried.

i've got nothing much to live for since i lost my fame, but perseverance is my best friend.

the television had been left on by accident, and i needed to go. but some gossip channel had been playing, and i found myself startled to hear my name coming from the television.

"-and what about cute little (y/n), once america's sweetheart?" a plump and bald headed man in a suit had asked, shuffling notecards in his hand. he sat at a cushioned bench with other formally dressed people.

"well, folks, ms. (l/n) has been spotted out and about, making efforts to recover her embarrassing past of partying and gambling that resulted in her unforgettable arrest of 1995." a red-headed woman with beehive shaped hair announced as my mugshot rolled onto the screen, as well as a photo of me working at a local walmart.

"c'mon, those are such a bad photos!" i winced at both, clasping my hand over my forehead.

i turned off the tv before it could get any worse. i stepped out of the house with my bag and slung it over my neck, hopping on my bicycle and peddling towards the pizzeria with the most speed i've ever used.