White Lies (Last chapter for a while...)

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Author's Chapter Notes:

i'm sorry if this is short. it's the calm before the (massive) storm. P.S - two questions for you guys in the end notes. enjoy ! :]

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I’d remained still as I lifted my gaze from the wrinkled pages scattered in a mess atop the concrete and instead allowed my eyes lock in on something – anything – that would distract my mind from the unbelievable realization that had sunk in just moments prior. I saw Victor bend down to sweep the crinkled magazine into his hands out of the corner of my eye and then heard him exhale loudly.

“Are you sure – “ he spoke up softly, carefully from beside me. “Are you sure it’s him – I mean… it could be … it could be any – “

“It’s him,” I said. My voice had lost any emotional aspect; it was flat, monotonous, dead. I inhaled shakily, pressing the cool flesh of my fingers into my face, exhaling a breath of warm air into my palms. I nodded against my fingers. “It’s him.”

“I could be wrong – maybe it’s a mistake…”

“It’s not a mistake,” I snapped, looking up at my best friend with a cold gaze. My jaw tightened as I looked at him, but I still would not allow my eyes to trace back to the front page where he was standing so fucking arrogantly with his stupid damn guitar. “That is him. There is no fucking mistake here, Victor.”

His eyes widened slightly before he glanced back down at the tabloid in his grasp. He stared quietly for a moment, his eyes flitting over the image quickly. “Yeah,” he breathed, nodding. “Yeah, you’re right. This is no mistake.”

I closed my eyes tightly, swallowing hard against the dry lump settled in my throat. “He lied to me,” I said quietly. “He lied to me, Vic.”

“Technically he didn’t lie, if you think about it,” he replied. “Did you actually ask him what he did for a living?”

Yes,” I grit out, my eyes still closed. “He told me he was a musician.”

“Well there you go!” he said, a light humor lacing the tone of his voice. “I mean, he did tell you he was a musician – that’s kind of the same thing.”

“Are you kidding me?” I said sharply, opening my quickly watering gaze to stare in bewilderment at Victor. “The same thing – are you fucking joking, Vic? He kept the fact that he’s – he’s – “ I was blabbering, I quickly realized, and then inhaled steadily. “He could have told me he was… that he’s…”

“A rockstar,” he aided quietly. “Yes, he could have told you.”

There was a long moment of silence between us, and as I reached up to wipe at the light moisture lining the corners of my eyes, I saw him hold the magazine out slightly so he could squint at the picture.

“I knew I recognized the name,” he murmured, cocking his head slightly. “I’m pretty positive Sara has a poster of these guys over her bed.”

What?” I snapped, turning to look at him quickly. “Victor, what? You’re telling me that your little sister has a poster of the man that’s made my life hell for the past month and you only remember his name now?”

“Don’t you dare, Anna,” he murmured darkly, casting a heavy glare in my direction. “Don’t you dare take your anger out on me. I didn’t do anything wrong here – I didn’t lie to you and keep my identity a secret. Don’t even go there.”

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