a couple of years go by, Paris is now 16 in 10th grade.
"Fuck face" moved in 6th grade after teachers started to write him up for his actions.
It's been very quiet for the past few years, overly quiet for Paris, except when he's at home. Something happened a couple of days ago with his parents.
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Paris walked into his house after a long day of school
ready to kick off his shoes and lay down for the rest of his life.
"Paris, sit down." His dad looked disappointed. his mom was trying not to cry, pushing his journal forward full of Paris's secrets he promised himself he would take to the grave.
"What are you guys doing with tha-"
"You like men?" His father folded his arms.
"n-no, I-I don't thats-"
"Well, this piece of shit says otherwise." his mom wiped her eyes, ruining her mascara.
She picked up the notebook and threw it at Parise's feet. "Are you gay?"
"NO!...no!"
"It literally said you wanted to kiss on boys and other things I won't be saying cause it's too inappropriate for me."
The butterflies in Parise's stomach began to start fluttering, making him shake subtlety.
"I'm gonna say this again. Are you gay?" Mrs.Barlowe went from crying to frustrated.
"Yes."
"I WILL NEVER ACCEPT THAT YOU KNOW THAT RIGHT?!"
Paris swallows his tears not letting them see him break. "Okay."
"WHAT KIND OF PARENT AM I LETTING MY KID RUN AROUND SAYING HE LIKES BOYS."
"The right kind."
"Oh, and whatever the hell you want to be, a singer? you know that's never gonna happen. EVER! You people don't make it out there."
Parise's parents are a handful, they claim they are always there for him, but in reality, they are just taking care of him physically but not mentally.
No one was supposed to go in that journal! He thought to himself. He never wanted anyone to know that he was gay or that he always dreamed about becoming a star.
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Paris rides the bus to school, something he's not very used to but he knows he has to get used to it after his parents stop driving him to school.
"School, am I right." the glammed down, pink wearer Laughed.
"um, right."
"Have you ever wanted to sit on the moon before?"
Paris stared at her for a while, confused. "Is she on something?"
"Hi, I'm Kandice." She said bubbly.
"Hey, Kandice, I'm Paris."
"Ok, ok, so like there's this thing I like to do when I first meet people I don't know. First, we say what we like at the same time then we go from there! Got it?"
"Alright!" Paris warms up to her automatically.
"3, 2, 1! MUSIC!" They both say at the same time.
"OMG! Really?" Paris smiles.
That marked the day these two became friends, best friends.
"You should definitely come over sometime, so we can collab. I'm great at making beats If I do say so myself.
For the rest of the school day these two talk all day, not missing a word about each other."
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Paris's parents go to sleep pretty early, this was a great chance to sneak out of the house. Paris thought, "If I get caught, they shouldn't be mad this shit could make me some coin, hopefully enough to leave home."
Paris walks down the street where his new best friend lives. Crickets chirp, as the street lights turn on. He shortly arrived at her house feeling famous already, he had a feeling this was gonna be his big start.
"Heyyy, girl." Kandice drags out her words.
"Heyyy," Paris responds the same way.
Kandice flips her long black hair. "Let's get this shit
started, bitch.
They walked into Kandice's studio/ Bedroom and there was pink everywhere. She had glitter everything too, It was kind of like those Hello Kitty Girl rooms.
Kandice plays her already-finished beats, she dances swinging her hair back and forth, and Paris vibes along with her. The hyper-pop beat flows through the pink-lit room illuminating Parise's eyes he knew this was the one.
They start writing lyrics, expressing their feeling and thoughts on sheets of paper, and their hands write magic.
They record in one session. "it's doneeee!!" They rejoice.
"Girl, this is it! We're rich!" Kandice and Paris laugh.
YOU ARE READING
THE ICON (bxb)
Romansa"WHAT KIND OF PARENT AM I LETTING MY KID RUN AROUND SAYING HE LIKES BOYS." "The right kind." Paris grew up in a unsupportive household, not believing his dream of becoming a Popstar would succeed his family all tease him with words of discouragement...
