anything in return | frank ocean [+18] complete

fertilizer

"Oh look, somebody else talking shit..." I mumbled with fake excitement as I scrolled through Twitter, amused by how social media made people feel a lot more threatening than they actually were.

There were a bunch of 140-character-or-less insults in my mentions, and they'd been coming at a pretty steady pace for the past two weeks. I didn't have time to deal with that. Aside from a snarky tweet or two and several block parties (done with Chris in mind, of course...), that was all the attention Lonny's crazy ass fans were getting from me.

Tyler shook his head, lifting his hat to rub the top of his head before sinking into the other side of the couch, not saying anything.

He couldn't, really. His advice would probably be to rant and be extremely blunt about what was going on, and even though I admired how well that seemed to work for him, my way of handling things was so opposite of his.

"If I go, you owe me...'cause, I might catch a charge. At least pay my bail. Can you do that?"

"Whatever dude. I don't give a fuck about any of that shit. You're coming to the carnival, B. Off top." Tyler's eyes cut to mine. At that moment, I realized I didn't have any excuses on reserve to miss this. And for the first time in about a month, I honestly wasn't going to look for one.

We had to face the music – or in this case, the public – sooner or later, but it was safe to say that life became pretty hard to handle after that article.

Lonny had to physically restrain me from writing them a scathing letter in response to TMZ (to first off, tell them to correct my fucking age) by hiding my phone and computer for a few weeks. Being disconnected from the world didn't matter anyway – nobody was talking to either of us (minus Tyler, but he had his own shit going on and understood). And if they were, it was only just to irk the last nerve that I did have left by sending quotes like I hadn't already saved it all into a file of repressed memories. My mom and the Clancy's were extremely offended that we chose to hide something of this caliber for what they called "our own selfish reasons", but no matter how much I thought they were overreacting I took all of their words with a grain of salt.

Lonny and I got an earful from Kelly about protocol and the fact that as his manager, to be the last to hear something about your artist is not how things should be. I couldn't help but feel like we were being reprimanded, but any inclination I had to remind her that we were adults was eighty-sixed when our eyes met.

The disappointment in her stare was almost tangible, and it hurt like a blow to the chest.

At first everybody that had come to matter to me throughout the years felt betrayed and angry and lied to, and things got so bad it began to flare up my anxiety; making me come up with reasons to not leave the house. I couldn't take it. It was like I was in high school all over again...

But I knew for the most part, it was all rooted in care for the both of us. And somewhere deep down, I also knew this was all a possible outcome of our actions...but what I was trying to figure out was how we managed to end up in the exact situation we were trying to avoid?

I created a lot of downtime for myself to think about that.

I'd taken refuge in his apartment after a situation involving paparazzi and stalking, sending my anxiety into overdrive, and we just bummed out. He lounged around with me until he had something he really needed to get done, but other than that, he was too tired for anything else. We weren't sleeping. He was too worried about me and I was too worried about everything else, including him and other than myself.

Something had to give...especially with the second annual carnival a few days away.

Curling up tighter on the couch, I sat my chin on my knee before tossing my phone next to me and giving Tyler a soft nod. He pulled me into an awkward hug.