2. That's What Most People Do
2. That's What Most People Do
BLAISE
'Get out before I slam the door in your face,' I seethe, 'And hopefully break your nose.'
Seb raises his arms in a placating gesture, a toothy grin lighting his face up, as he says, 'I just wanted to spend time with my brother,' He pouts, 'Is it too much to ask for, Blaisey?'
I pinch the breath of my nose and let out an irritated sigh. 'It is too much to ask for at two in the morning, Seb,' I say.
Apparently, Sebastian thought it would be good idea to creep up on me in the dead of the night, in my bedroom to spend time with me.
'And do not call me that name, we've talked about that before,' I add.
'I think it's cute, just like your black little heart,' He deadpans at me.
'Get out before I actually break your nose,' I say, a fake smile tugging my lips upwards.
He spins in his place and walks out the door at his own pace, 'Close the door behind you,' I say. And, as expected, he doesn't listen.
Groaning in frustration, I stand up and shut the door before locking it, the sound of the lock clicking momentarily replacing the silence in the room.
My siblings tend to make it a regular habit of peeving me out of my mind, but at some point, it is bound to get infuriating.
And they don't seem to know basic fucking English when it comes to me.
I don't hate them, they are just insufferably irritating to me.
But they seem to brighten my "black little heart" nonetheless. They are the only people in this world who I know will always be there for me. I know that they won't stop trying to make me laugh. I know that they won't leave me.
I laid back down on my bed, flicking my bedside lamp off.
Looking out of my floor to ceiling window, I see the glittering white and yellow lights of the city of Paris that are slightly blurred because of the heavy rain. Even at night, even in rain, the city never seems to sleep, even though it begs for a rest.
Its to be expected I guess. After all, it is a famous city, buzzing with expectant tourists.
We seem to be very familiar in a way, this city and me. Both of us beg for a break, one which we know we will never get. Both of us burdened by countless expectations. Both of us forced to live up to a reputation we don't think we deserve.
As ungrateful as it may seem, whining about being famous, some things run deeper than fame itself.
Being born to parents that practically ruled the business world and had connections with the president himself isn't as great as it may seem.
All my life, my parents paraded me as future heir to their multi-billion dollar company. They did not even bother asking me what I wanted to be growing up.
I don't even remember when they started making these overwhelming demands. My whole existence revolved around my future, rather than my present.
It was exhausting.
Even more so when I had no one to talk to. People only became my friends because of my family's reputation, and every girl that I had went on a date with turned out to be a gold digger after my money.
Talking to my siblings would only make them carry the unnecessary burden of my future.
So, I shut everyone out.
Became a closed book and let everyone judge me from the cover I had built up. Faked a synopsis and let it rule my facade near other people.
I kept my feelings to myself. And when these emotions got to much to bear, I did the one thing that kept me sane: Racing.
There is a special touch to feeling the wind whip your hair as the city lights blurred past and the only the sound of a purring engine could be heard.
It makes your head you clear and keeps reality at bay.
Adrenaline and reckless mix to form a calm serenade in the night.
If I had a choice in this life I was born in, I would want to pursue it as a real career.
But I can't.
When I try to tell anyone what I feel, I make it sound worse, or more trivial. It's fucking frustrating.
I sighed through my nose before turning to face my back to the window. My eyes roamed around the dark room, only illuminated by the soft lights in the corner, that were definitely not my sister's doing,
Never in my life, had I changed rooms. It felt like letting a piece of yourself go. So, I changed the room as I changed myself.
Then, sleep conquers me with one thing in mind:
Maybe I'm the the problem. If I were to just accept things more easily, live a bit more freely, talk a bit more, express myself better, I wouldn't be stuck in this body living a stranger's life.
My phone alarms blares shrilly in a distance, as I open my eyes, my mind unfocused from the sleep. I slam the snooze button and get up.
After getting ready for the day, I go downstairs. I lived so close to the university that it was a walking distance away. And even though I wanted to be rid of this cold empty house, my parents denied me the access to rent a dorm because it was too unfitting for me and my future. It seemed as though money makes your life easier.
Only to find my parents gone, again.
'Bonjour, petits morceaux de merde,' I greet, walking into the dining room where my siblings are already seated around the table. I mutter the last part under my breath. (Little pieces of shit.)
Sylvia doesn't even look up from her phone. 'Someone's in a good mood today.'
I wonder why that is,' I say with a contemplative hum. 'I mean, there's no way its because he ' I point at Seb. 'Was running around last night like a goddamn headless chicken.'
Vee groans. 'Yeah, he came knocking on my door too.'
She takes a sip from her iced latte like it's not two degrees outside.
I frown. 'Why are you drinking that? It's freezing.' My eyes scan the thick trench coat she's wearing like it's going to balance out the self-inflicted frostbite.
She shrugs, all smug. 'It's an obsession.' And then—that smile. The overly sweet one she saves for when she knows she's being unbearable.
Seb jumps in, still grinning like the chaos goblin he is. 'Yeah, leave her alone, Blaisey—'
'Who asked you?' Vee and I say in unison, not even looking at each other.
Seb lets out a laugh that's way too proud of itself.
I swear that boy never stops smiling.
After having my breakfast, I step into the garage and walk over to my favorite car, Lamborghini Veneno.
I bought this car with the money I had saved up. It was useless considering that I could have just asked for my parents' credit card. But there was a pride in the feeling of owning something with your own money.
Being surrounded by obnoxious friends and materialistic, plastic-assed people is definitely not my favorite way of spending the day, but it seems fate had other plans. Plans that involve me putting up a smile and lying through my teeth.
That's what most people do.
Fake it. Force it.
Pretend to laugh when you'd rather be anywhere else. Nod along to gossip about people you don't even care to remember. Wear masks so tight they start to feel like skin.
Everybody does it.
Except her.
That one girl who always sits at the back. Hoodie on, headphones in. Always alert, never really present. Like she's there — but not really with us.
Like she's got one foot in this world, and the other somewhere far more dangerous.
She intrigued me.
The one girl who didn't chase attention. Who never came to parties, didn't wear loud lipstick or glitter like the rest of them. She wasn't loud — but somehow, she was the loudest thing in the room.
I didn't even know her name until I heard it in the hallway once.
Lana Auclair.
It stuck in my head like a song I'd never heard but already knew the lyrics to.
I never usually pay attention to random people. They blur together after a while — same perfume, same jokes, same hunger for validation.
But her?
She didn't blur.
She cut through the noise. With her silence. With her eyes. With the way she never looked at anyone too long, like she was measuring who could be trusted.
Spoiler, none of us passed.
And I hated how curious I became.
I hated how her presence filled up spaces she wasn't even in. How I'd scan rooms automatically just to see if she was there. How noticing her once had made it impossible to stop.
I just didn't know what to do with him!