Golden (rewrite)

7

You spent the whole afternoon outside. Well, sleeping outside like a homeless person. With your attire and physique, you already look like one, anyway.

It's already seven in the evening and you just woke up from your long nap. You stretched your arms and yawned.

It's time to head back to the motel, you stood up from the park's bench and fished out your phone. "Oh, I am in some deep shit...." you grimace at the sight of three missed calls from Mike, three missed calls from Tony, three missed calls from Linda and two missed calls from Karen.

You were about to call back, but then another call, this time from Karen again. You promptly answered it.

"Hello—"

"(Y/n)! Where the hell were you!?" Instead of Karen's frail, old woman's voice, it's Mike's booming one.

"Takin' a sweet nap. Catchin up on the sleep I lost yesterday." You yawned again. "The hell happened?"

"Lanette's shootin' was done like half an hour ago. He's lookin for you, gettin' more and more antsy the more we call!" Right, you forgot the celebrity was trying to talk to you.

"Crap, just tell him I moved to Idaho or something." You scratched the back of your head and look around. It's dark enough for the streetlights to turn on.

"(Y—" you heard some loud crashing, clicking, crunching on the other side of the line. You assumed that he dropped Karen's phone.

"Damn, what's happenin' there? Mike?"

"Hello, dipshit! Had a wonderful nap?" It's Tony now.

"Yeah, hairy bitch." You snickered.

"Hardy har har, man, just get over your fear of meetin up with your highschool buddy. Maybe he just wanna say hi and dash outta this dump after the movie's done. C'mon, ya think a celeb like him would give a crack addict like you the time of the day? You wish!" You snorted.

"Yeah. Maybe you're right for once, toilet brush. I'll head back soon, tell Mike to tell him I'm back from Idaho."

—
You took a deep breath before pushing the main door open. You saw Lanette standing in the middle of the lobby, browsing on his phone with earphones in his ears. "He's rich. Why didn't he get those wireless ones?"

He wasn't wearing the clothes that he wore this morning, you can only assume he is wearing the costume that he wore during the filming. His facial expression is as blank as ever.

In your opinion, he looks a bit intimidating with him wearing a camouflage jacket, a white, dirt stained tank top underneath and military grade boots with ripped jeans that is a bit dusty.
Though, you know the blood, scrapes and bruises on his face, his hands and blood on his clothes are fake, it still made him look like a heartless murderer, especially with his cold and calculating demeanour.

It reminds you of the time where you and Linda had to do a mexican standoff with a tenant who shot another in the same night.

It was just another regular night at Motel Motel.

Back to the present, Lanette now seems to be listening to something he likes. A soft smile adorned his lips.

You tried to tiptoe around him to the stairs leading to the basement. You thought that you've won, because you're about descend the stairs.

"I'm not blind nor deaf, (y/n)." He took out the earphones from his ears and wrapped its cord around his phone. Lanette held a disappointed look in his eyes.
"I know you remember who I was to you. Don't lie."

You cursed and turned to face him with a huge smile, painfully obvious to him that it's fake. "Okay, okay. You got me, I was just messin' with you this mornin'. Yeah, I know who you are, I think I called you uhh... Volcano?" Your fake smile was replaced by a tired frown.

He beamed. "Yes! But..." he dropped his smile. "...why were you avoiding me? Aren't you happy that I found you?" There was a fair amount of sadness in his tone.

You looked around you. No one is present in the lobby. Not even his bodyguards. "Hey, am I like, by chance on TV? Live TV?" You whispered. "Y'know, hidden cameras? Then you'd tell me this is all a prank?" You crossed your fingers.

He furrowed his eyebrows. "What? You... think this is all a practical joke...?"

You scratched the dried blood off the skin under your nose. "I was hopin' it would be one. No offence, though. Heh heh." You placed your hands on your hips.

Lanette frowned. "Do... you not wish to reunite with me?" His slender fingers are gripping on his phone tightly. You scratched the side of your cheek.

"Eh, nah." You pursed your lips.

"...why?" He had a pained expression.

"Listen bud, you're a good friend. You're the hottest dog in the world right now and I'm happy for you. But you're like rubbin' your ass on my face, ya dig?" You placed your hands in your pockets. His eyes widened.

"(Y/n), it's never in my intention to hurt you. I-I just—"

"No, man. You ain't gettin me. It's cool to see an old friend doin' well. Y'see, I'm trash compared to ya—" you gestured at your body.

"—if word gets out that I'm just casually talkin' to you like an old friend, I'm gonna catch millons of hands. You know what your damn rabid fans can do, they gave me these for not wearin' anythin' with your pretty face or name onnit." You rolled up your sleeves and exposed your bruises to him. Lanette gasped in surprise.

"Congrats to your stardom. But we're from different worlds. We can't just go out and perform Tilly Creams by Mitchell Fraction like we're teens anymore! You're gonna get your name dirtied and I'm gonna get KILLED." He knitted his eyebrows.

"Oh, (y/n). I..." he kept his phone in his jacket's pocket and then gently held your hand.

"...I can 'clean' you up." A soft, reassuring smile made it's way to his lips.

"What do you mean?" You asked.

"I can raise you up to my level! I can make your life much better. I can give you fame, I can give you wealth, I can give you praise, I can—I can..." His large, glossy eyes looked straight into your tired ones.

"...I can help you..." His voice faded into a whisper. You pulled your hand away from his grip and shook your head.

"No way, I ain't after fame. I ain't after wealth, I ain't after praise and I hell ain't after your 'help'. I wanna live normally, blend into the scene of the peaceful side of the world." He remained silent.

"See this?" You gestured to the walls and ceiling of the lobby. "Motel Motel is my peace. My goddamn golden peace. Well, yeah, it gets chaotic at times with Tony but... you get my point." You scratched the back of your neck.

There was a short pause between the both of you.

He sighed. "I... see." There was an awkward silence between you after that.

"Hey, uh. It's like, late. Don't celebs like you get beauty sleep?" You pointed at his face. He seems to be contemplating something.

"Would you like to watch our performance together? For old times' sake?" He pulled out his phone again and removed his earphones from it.

"Yeah, sure bud. For old times' sake." You grinned.

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A/n: Mitchell Fraction is Microwaveness's universe's version of  Michael Jackson and Tilly Creams is the universe's version of Billy Jeans