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
"Good morning," Ella said as we met in the elevator.
Ella's room was right next to mine, and since she was my on-screen girlfriend we had lots of scenes together, which meant we met in the elevator a lot.
"Good morning," I replied, rubbing my eyes under my glasses. My eyes were strained from the night before, when Oakley and I ended up talking a little longer than intended. He only just got back home and was still excited from his performance two days ago, it's like he couldn't wait for Sonarstice. It was the first time I saw Oakley perform willingly, and it was like he was completely in his element. He belonged on stage, I thought it was beautiful.
Oakley got to sleep in the next morning, though. I wasn't so lucky. We started filming at seven this morning, which meant being on set at six, which meant it was way too fucking early.
"You look tired," she noted.
"It's that obvious?" I said, followed by a yawn.
"Yeah, you look like a panda bear. What's got you up so late?"
"I guess I just wasn't tired," I said, keeping it vague. We finally reached the first floor and made our way to the car. "Good morning," I greeted the driver, who only nodded in acknowledgment. He must've been tired as well.
"Well, can I ask you something?" Ella asked. She dropped her backpack in the backseat and then sat down next to it. I followed, checking the time on my phone before closing the car door.
"Yeah, sure," I said.
"You're only eighteen," she started. "The things they're making you do... doesn't it feel weird to you?"
She picked at her nails, scratching at her cuticles. She would do that a lot, asking a question about work while looking around her awkwardly.
"What do you mean?" I asked.
"I mean, the role you're playing is a lot more... demanding I think, than mine," she said, her hands resting on her knees as though she was in a meeting. "Penelope takes care of six kids and all that, but it's just a role. At the end of the day, I was just pretending. But it's different for you. It might not be coke you're snorting, but you're snorting something. You might not be groomed, you an older man is still putting his hands on your body."
"You said it yourself. At the end of the day, you're just pretending. But it's not pretending to me," I explained. "I'm not me when I'm Caspian. I am Cass. You're Penelope. Jeremy is Mr. Burns"
It had always been like that for me. Acting was easy because I wasn't pretending as realistically as possible. When I was little, it was a means of escapism. I liked having different lives, I liked the predictability and the endless chances to do things over. I liked how things would always turn out alright in the end.
