Since the start of our career, Leonidas has had a talent for creating rumors out of anything. And I mean,anything.
“I’m sad to say this, but we’re running out of time. So, for our last question, what’s something about this album or tour that fans might not expect?”
Leonidas grins. “We will unapologetically be ourselves.”
FIVE
ELIJAH
I despise how I hate being alone.
For a while, I didn’t know how to explain the heavy feeling in my chest. But the more I talked with my therapist, Lillian, the more I began to understand anxiety and the silent agony it created.
I know the life I live doesn’t help, and maybe I feel a little worse because I know I could be happier. My sister moved out; she’s living with her boyfriend now. My brother and his girlfriend bought a house together; they live twenty minutes away. And my mom lives across the sea.
A small part of me hoped they’d notice I was alone. I had known this would eventually happen. I’m becoming a frickin’ old man. But everything hits a little harder when you only have your own company. My mom isn’t downstairs, and my siblings aren’t in their own rooms with their doors closed. It’s just me.
Walking through these walls isn’t comforting, like I expected it to be; it aches. I mourn for the life I could have had if I wasn’t famous. Maybe it would have been easier to find someone who loves me for me and not my fame. A life filled without deception, and gossip. I’d do anything to have a moment of just peace. But there’s always something. A different camera stuck in my face,a screamed question, a rumor, several routes I have to take to avoid people.
I hate it all.
I resent people in my life and wish someone could see the truth within my eyes. Yet they’re just blinded by Elijah Drakos’scharmingsmile.
Dropping down onto my childhood bed, I think about the boy I used to be when my mom surprised me by painting clouds on my walls.
He wasn’t exploited.
I read somewhere on the internet that if you’re in need of distracting your brain, wear a hairband around your wrist and snap it. A long time ago, I stole one of Amelia’s and have had it with me since then.
A snap of pain jolts my wrist as I sit under what used to be my favorite tree in the park I grew up playing in. What I used to love about being here was how my siblings and I seemed to be the only kids here. Now, as I sit here, the hood of my hoodie thrown on top of my ball cap, I watch a group of kids playing. I think of everything I took for granted.
I brought my guitar here, thinking it would be better to get some fresh air while I practiced. But my fingers twitch for my pocket, and I let them. Pulling out the pack, I place the cigarette against my lips, light a flame, and breathe in.
Just one.
Just one.
“Hey!”
I flinch. Making eye contact with a little boy I’m guessing is eight, I send him a little wave. “What’s up?”
“The sky, the sun, the moon, the air, the stars,” he says nonchalantly while skipping over toward me and dropping down right in front of me.
“You know that’s poison, right?” His face scrunches in disgust as he eyes the cigarette I hold away from him before putting it out on the bottom of my shoe.
“That’s why people say to never try one,” I explain, looking around for anyone who should be watching him. “You end up addicted.”
“What doesaddictedmean?” He stretches toward me and starts playing with my shoelaces.
Giving him my full attention, I reach out and pluck out grass—a habit I’ve had since I was a boy. “It’s like becoming obsessed with something. Do you know what that means?”
“Yep,” he says cheerily, showing me the gaps from his missing teeth as he smiles brightly. “My mommy said I’m obsessed with video games.”
I gesture for him to come closer with a finger, and he inches forward, excited to hear what I have to say.
“You tell her there are worse things you can be obsessed with.”
He nods rapidly, like I just told him the answer to world peace.
