***"All I want to do***
***Is be more like me***
***And be less like you." - Linkin Park***
***Holden Young***
I never thought leaving for a tour could feel so much like running away. At least for me, it felt like an escape—a way to drown myself in work, to forget everything for a while. Or at least try to.
But there I was, staring at the mirror in my bedroom one last time before leaving, thinking about all the mistakes and right decisions I’d made. None of them could be taken back now.
Michael was in the living room, probably trying to figure out where to put the piano I didn’t even know he had. My apartment was his now, at least temporarily. He was rebuilding, and I… well, I was pretending everything was under control.
It needed to be.
The weight of everything that happened last night still clung to me. Chloe, the flashes, the forced smiles, my fans being fooled. It hadn’t been a celebration but a theatrical performance where everyone played their part.
Me? The charismatic, untouchable rockstar, seemingly an open book, but with fragile glass ceilings. And Chloe? The perfect accessory to the narrative Cyrus and the PR team were spinning.
That’s all it was for me, too—a narrative. And part of me wanted to scream to the world that none of it was real, especially since, by now, I knew Alissa had probably seen it all.
But in the aftermath of all the chaos, where I should have been piecing together some certainty about us, there was nothing left. Just a bitter aftertaste of a fleeting “us.”
I left my bedroom and found Michael standing in the living room, holding one of my leather jackets like it was trash.
“Your taste in fashion is genuinely awful, you know that?” he teased, holding the jacket with a mix of disdain and a playful smirk I knew he used to mask how lost he still felt.
“Go to hell, loser,” I replied with a half-smile. I didn’t know what to say to make this goodbye any easier. I still felt bad about leaving him, especially after we’d reconnected like in the old days.
He tossed the jacket aside and leaned against the kitchen counter, raising an eyebrow as he studied me. “Are you sure you’re okay leaving all this in my hands?” He gestured around the apartment with a mock alarm.
“I trust you not to destroy the place.” I grabbed my backpack and the rest of my things, preparing to head to the airport. “Just try not to burn the building down with your horrible cooking.”
We laughed a bit, and he walked over to me, giving me a pat on the back before holding the door open. “Good luck on the tour, man. Don’t let the work swallow you whole, and always remember who you are.”
I hugged Michael and realized how much this friendship was grounding me during such a fragile time. I stepped into the elevator, finally saying goodbye as the door closed. His words lingered in my mind as I stood in the metal box, listening to the hum of machinery in the silence that felt more claustrophobic than the space itself.
But this wasn’t the hardest part, not yet. Not when I’d decided to arrange a meeting with my parents before leaving—a meeting to settle things I should’ve addressed the moment I discovered everything they had orchestrated.
I thought hitting rock bottom was realizing I hadn’t won the reality show on my own merit but because of my father’s financial interference. That crushed my ego, but I couldn’t throw away the fanbase I’d built, the songs I’d written, and the love I’d poured into the album released that night.
That was mine, not theirs. They might’ve given me the ladder, but I climbed every step. So it wouldn’t be fair to give up now—to throw away the dream I’d worked so hard to hold in my hands.
When I stepped out of the building, the car was already waiting for me. Its slightly dented front bumper caught my eye—a mark from the accident with Alissa.
It was practically a miracle she hadn’t been seriously injured when I thought about the sound of that crash. No wonder reporters covered it for weeks. Luckily, the team managed to shield her from unnecessary speculation or exposure.
That didn’t stop the rumors, though. Now, the tabloids were filled with different stories. Chloe and I, holding hands, even sharing a half-hearted, poorly executed kiss at the end of the event.
I wasn’t used to this yet, but at least they weren’t digging into the woman I truly loved.
When I arrived at the café I’d reserved for the meeting, my stomach churned. Seeing my parents and speaking to them—had become a burden.
But now, I needed to protect what was mine, to ensure they wouldn’t interfere again.
After all, I’d already lost Alissa. It wouldn’t be fair to lose my autonomy and career, too.