ᴏᴀᴋʟᴇʏ ᴄᴀʀʀɪʟʟᴏ was discovered at fourteen years old, being praised as a musical prodigy by the media ever since. His fame had only increased until now. At nineteen old, he's the most remarkable musician of his age, and he's only getting started. At...
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ɴᴏʟᴀɴ ᴍᴜʟʟᴇɴ
I had never seen Oakley nervous before, but there was a first for everything.
He wiped his clammy hands on his pants and stared at the tv, but by the way his eyes were unmoving, I could tell he wasn't actually paying attention to whatever was happening on screen.
"I didn't think I'd ever see you this stressed out."
"I'm sorry," he said, still in his own world. It took a few seconds before he turned to me. "Are you telling him or do you want to keep this a secret?"
I hadn't even thought about it yet.
"Shit," I said. I pulled away from him and rested my leg on the couch, facing him. "What do you think I should do?"
"Hey, calm down," he said, taking my hands in his. "Just bring it up if it's relevant. If he doesn't ask, he doesn't have to know."
I sighed. He was right, he didn't have to know immediately.
My phone buzzed, indicating that someone had just entered the house, so I looked at Oakley one last time, and he hesitantly moved a little away so there was a distance between us.
"It'll be okay," I said, more to reassure myself than anything. I was getting a bit anxious, my heart tied in a knot. My dad sounded stressed, maybe a little angry on the phone. This had never happened before and I didn't know how to feel about it.
"It'll be okay," Oakley repeated after me.
Just a moment later, my dad appeared in the living room.
He had changed quite drastically from the last time I'd seen him. His hair was longer and he'd grown a mustache, and the greying hairs poked out from every bit of hair visible. It had been a year. Sometimes I forgot how long I went without seeing him. I often wished for things to be different, but I'd grown used to it. At the end of the day, chosen family was a lot more valuable.
Oakley awkwardly stumbled to his feet, a sheepish smile on his face as he offered my dad a hand.
"Hi, Sir. My name is—"
"I know who you are," he said, his eyes shooting from Oakley to me, and then back at Oakley. "I've heard you on the radio." He shook Oakley's hand, making him wince slightly.
