Sweaters in the Summer

i want to be like the female protagonist that don't cry but, doesn't everybody?

Today was one of those bad days. My dad had stopped forcing me to model a few years ago but today was an exception. Once every year I would model for his father and today was that day. Of course I was a little pissed off. The school year was slowly coming to an end and I needed to study for his finals. Then my dad suddenly tells me not to go to school?

I didn't hate being a model. I just didn't think it was a good way to use my time. I could spend my time reading or making music instead of working with people that only took me for their boss's son. Snobby and unprofessional coworkers weren't as rare as you would think in the Agreste company. Also, I don't really like attention (if you haven't noticed). Once a girl came up to me and said that a manager allowed her to see me. Obviously that wasn't true and the girl was trespassing. She kept trying to convince me while also flirting until security found me. I'm usually too dense to notice these things but it's gotten to a point where I can't deal with this anymore.

There was also this makeup artist and every time she saw me she'd ask for the time but not once did she say "thank you". I know that might sound petty but seriously! She'd be like, "what time is it?" and I'd answer and then she would just walk away. And they say millennials have no manners.

I was standing around there for at least six hours. I was tired and stressed and pissed. Especially because the director kept saying I lost my charm and gained weight.

I just...wanna go home.

Suddenly I felt my hand flailing to find a grasp on something as my whole body falls forward.

My right knee hits the ground. I don't feel any pain so I stand back up, determined not to look at the damage. I had tripped on a random plank of wood. It was probably used for props.

I hear a scream.

"ADRIEN!" shouted the unfamiliar voice " blood is dripping down your leg!"

Finally I look down. I see the blood and a wave of panic rushes over me. It drowns me. It consumes me. It suffocates me.

And then I cry.

I always wished I was like Clary Fray or Linh Cinder, Even Mare Barrow would do. The female protagonist that doesn't cry during the most vicious battle injuries. I was not like them. I cried.

I cried from the stress.

I cried from the tiredness.

I cried from looking at the blood.

A bunch of coworkers began to crowd around me until first aid came. They all whispered about how Adrien Ageste was crying from a simple scrape.

First Aid treated me like a child. They pitied me. They pitied the eighteen-year-old boy that couldn't stop sobbing. They kept asking if it hurt. I kept lying.

It took twenty minutes for the bleeding to stop.

My father never came.

~~~

Walking home wasn't something I'd usually do. I just didn't want to get in that car. My leg might be hurting but walking cleared my mind. As long as no one talked to me...I wouldn't cry again.

But, that's when I happened.

Of course this was going to happen.

"...Adrien?"

"Why weren't you at school today?" The soft and familiar voice was Marinette. Definitely.

What should I do? I can't talk. If I talk I'll cry. If I cry she'll think I'm such a loser.

I mumbled some random thing about having to work but she didn't seem to hear it. I continued to stare at the floor as tears welled up in my eyes.

Don't cry. Be normal. Be okay.

"Are you okay?" she asked quietly, "I know you're quiet but, you usually aren't with me...did I do something wrong?"

I looked up and what I saw was the most heartbreaking facial expression I've ever seen. She's never looked so...sad. I sniffled and turned away. How could I do this to her? I'm so ashamed of myself.

"Adrien? Are you crying?"

It felt like time stopped. That's something you should never say to someone. It's like exposing their vulnerability.

My lips trembled as I choked out, "I-I'm fine" before running away.

My leg hurts so much.

My heart hurts.

~~~

It started bleeding again. My father's pissed because he doesn't want me to get a scar. My father's pissed because I ruined the clothing. But, my dad's pissed because he wasn't there. I told him it was okay. I told him that I was fine and that it didn't matter. He's a busy man.

I haven't written music in a long time. I guess I was busy with getting ready to graduate and constantly worrying over Marinette. I really needed to apologize but I also needed to water my cacti. The one of the left is Harold The Second (named after my very violent fish) and the one with a great pal is Maury (I might be accidentally calling it Mari but no one else needs to know that).

Okay, maybe I'm just stalling because maybe I'm scared to confront her. I'm scared of messing up.

My notepad from Japan is filled with lyrics that don't go together and thoughts that I don't remember. Things like:

You like the rain

You like the thunder

You are the lightning

You like the pitter patters and the light from the street lamps

And I regret to inform you

But I can take the fake sunlight

I need the storm to rage

I need my cloudy days

I know...it doesn't make a lot of sense. None of this makes sense. She doesn't make sense. Words on a paper don't make sense.

There is this one line that I like though. It doesn't go with anything I've ever written but something about it is mesmerizing.

And for once in her life, she was speechless

I wrote it down a long time ago. I don't know who this is about and what it means. Maybe it had something to do with my mother.

Author's Note:

Hey friend,

I just want to remind you that whatever hardships you're going through is going to pass one day.

Life is like a highway. There will always be bumps in the road. Deep pot holes that cause permanent damage. Yet, one day the sun will rise and you'll wake up and think "today will be a good day"

and the best part about this is that

you're still alive

you're strong and unique

Your's Truly,

 Kayla 

 (if you're reading this story then congrats, you know my real name!)