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Kenneth Starr ↑

Pray by Sam Smith

🌟🌟🌟

I walked into my boyfriend's room and saw him caressing lotion onto his creamy-toned, spotless skin. He was on his window bed with a white and gold faux fur robe lightly tied around his body. I could smell the vanilla scent from his shower, an aroma that used to be enticing to me.

"Kristopher," he acknowledged me with a sinister undertone in his voice. Without lifting his head, he cast his gray eyes to my face. "What's wrong, my sweet?"

I walked to his large window bed and sat down next to him, and he put his feet up and faced me

"Are you okay?" I had to ask.

"Why wouldn't I be? Are you still on this, Kris? I'm fine. Why do you keep thinking there's some deep problem I'm dealing with?"

"Maybe because there actually is? And you don't want anyone to know what it is, but I'm your boyfriend."

"Being my boyfriend doesn't entitle you to answers that I'm not willing to give. Besides, you've so clearly picked Jaden over me."

I wrinkled my brows. "We're friends."

"Okay," he answered softly. That came as a surprise if I were being honest. Just last week he'd erupted at the mere idea of my blossoming friendship with Jaden Briggs, and now... 'okay'... okay? "I see you're confused," he said, analyzing my expressions.

It was a bit unsettling to know he was reading every single reaction of mine. "A little. I mean, you made it clear that you don't want us being friends."

"I don't. And that's only because I'm not stupid, I can see how much he likes you."

I shook my head. "Jaden does not like me." I wasn't stupid either. I guessed I was just in denial, and I felt guilty about the quiet spark of hope that I felt around him. He was... different. He wasn't stuck up or constantly seeking approval. He had a passion and a drive for something which was admirable.

"I'm tired," he sighed. "I love you and you don't see it."

"In my defense, Corbyn, I feel very shut out. If you don't want to confide in me, fine, but talk to someone you do trust. That way, you won't feel the need to unleash your wrath on everyone at school. And just as important, you'll feel less burdened."

"We keep having this conversation, and it's getting boring. And don't you remember my apology tour? Whatever I did to any loser at that school has been forgiven. I've got nothing to atone for. Y-you know, maybe they deserved it. Everyone there thinks they can step on me, so making them sick with fear is the only way to stop them." He continued to apply his lotion, looking very distressed. I could tell he regarded his words as the truth. I always thought that people believing their own lies couldn't happen, but Corbyn was one of those people.

"Nobody is trying to step on you, Corb. It's kinda the other way around. You're the one hurting them."

He snapped his head to me, scowling. "Then they deserve it."

I closed my eyes and let out a slow, long breath. Okay, so there was no way to reason with him. And his mother definitely wasn't any help if she refused to believe her son wasn't troubled about something. I needed to speak with his dad then; maybe he could offer his help.

"Corbyn, would you like a hug?" I resorted. It seemed a trivial solution on the surface, but hugs were powerful, healing gestures.

And, yes, I was a very spiritual (yet nonreligious) person, so I was a strong believer in healing the mind. It was more vulnerable than the body, yet stronger still.

The hand on his knee paused and he stared at the ground for a second before shrugging his shoulders silently.

"Come here." I stood up and outstretched my arms. He grumbled something but took a stand as well and without a moment of hesitation, he walked into my embrace. I enveloped his body as he laid his head against my shoulder, hugging me back. "See? Everyone just needs a little love here and there," I said, rubbing his back gently.

A few seconds later, I felt his chest rise slightly before letting him go. "Feel better?"

There was a sliver of shock on his face, and his eyes brimmed with tears. That was when I realized my fault. As much as I felt like he shut me out, I didn't hug him often enough. Maybe he needed that, and I was wrong for not providing it.

"Could you go; I need to put on some clothes." He immediately turned away and moved toward his walk-in closet, determined to hide his feelings from me.

"Corbyn--"

"Please, Kris, just go. I'll be down for dinner in a second." He stopped short, sucking in a quick breath and striding over to his balcony. I wondered what made him startled, so I followed him out and saw him leaning over the rail to look down.

"What is it? Did you hear something?" I gazed down as well to see his father's sleek Maybach pull through the gates, driven by a chauffeur. "Oh, it's just your dad."

"Mom said he'll be staying late." He frowned.

"Guess he's early... is that a problem?"

Corbyn looked at me, every ounce of tears from his eyes gone as if they hadn't been there to begin with. "No. Of course not," he snapped. "Now if you'll excuse me, I'd like to get dressed."

🎻🎻🎻

I assumed dinner would've been awkward, considering the circumstances. Mrs. Starr seemed back to her jovial self as she talked to her youngest, Eden, who was twelve. Corbyn sat directly across his dad at the head of the table, between his sister and Nico.

"Jesus, dad, you're always working," Ivy said, surprised her father could join the family for dinner. "This is a nice change."

"Yes, father," Corbyn agreed with her, stabbing the lettuce of his salad with a fork before snapping his eyes to his dad. "What brings you home so early?"

I looked to Mr. Kenneth Starr, a tall, sturdy man in his late forties, and he smiled at his son. His eyes were small, and his hair silvered evenly throughout his head. "I was in a meeting but my assistant took care of the rest. It wasn't too important. Besides, there are much more pressing matters I'll need to attend to tomorrow."

"This assistant... what's her name again, Tabitha?"

"It's..." The mayor blinked. "Her name is Janine."

"Well, can you blame me? I only bother to learn the names of those I either love or absolutely despise. So this Janine... She seems to be taking care of quite a lot of things for you, dear daddy."

"That's her job, sweetie," Mrs. Starr responded, chuckling it off. Analyzing her husband's near appalled reaction, I figured it was a good thing she made light of Corbyn's accusatory statement.

Nico and I exchanged looks before he went right back to devouring his food.

"The hell, Corb?" Ivy whispered, but since I was next to her, I could hear. Corbyn simply ignored her,

"Mommy, daddy, as you know by now, our school is hosting its very first gay play, a production that I will be performing in."

"I thought you were understudy," Ivy pointed out.

"Like that's gonna stop me from the spotlight I so rightly deserve. As my parents, it's imperative you attend opening night. You should come too, baby brother."

"I'm not a baby!" Eden grumbled before sticking his tongue out. "I'm twelve!"

'I won't be going, I'm sorry," Mr. Starr apologized. "I'm the mayor, Corbyn. My presence would be a bit..."

"Underwhelming, I'm sure. Just wear shades, throw on a wig; no one will notice you. They'll be too busy looking at me. Or are you just nettled by the fact it's a gay play?"

"I can't make it."

"Bummer. You could've brought Tabitha along. What about you, mommy?"

She smiled softly. "I-I'll try to make it, sweetheart."

"Good. You're not a very busy woman."

"Have some respect for your mother, Corbyn," his dad scolded with furrowed eyebrows. Without another bite of food, he rose from the table and folded his handkerchief. "When you're done eating, see me in my office."

Ivy's eyes widened momentarily before she frowned at her younger brother. He just let go of his fork as if he wasn't interested in food anymore, and I watched Mr. Starr walk away with his head high.

"No fair; daddy never lets me in his office!" Eden folded his arms and pouted. "How come Corbyn always gets to go?"

"Shh, baby, eat your food," his mom silenced, stroking his hair back. I looked at my boyfriend with a confused expression, but he just turned to Nico.

"I should probably take you home." The despair in his voice was unmistakable, and all the taunting wit that was present throughout dinner was gone.

"Uh, sure, but I'm gonna need to take some plates of food with me." Nico possessed not an ounce of shame on his face as he took a forkful more of mashed potatoes.

"I'll get some tupperware," Mrs. Starr offered, standing up.

I got up from my seat and left silently, going to catch up with Corbyn's father. I figured he must've taken the elevator up to the third floor but I just used the stairs.

I didn't want to intrude but I was so filled with concern and curiosity that I needed to speak with him. When I got to his office, where I assumed he'd be because the light was on, I knocked on the door hesitantly.

It was eerily silent for a moment before I heard Mr. Starr ask, "yes, who is it?"

"It's Kris!"

"The door is open."

I twisted the knob and entered cautiously. I was surprised he let me in. I'd never been in here mostly because there never was a need for me to. Corbyn always told me his father was adamant about nobody being in his study.

His dress shirt had been loosened, and he was clutching an inhaler in his hand.

"I'm sorry to intrude," I apologized.

"No big deal." He sniffed. "My asthma is acting up, excuse me. Is there something I can help you with?"

I swallowed, running my fingers through my sunkissed hair. "I wanted to talk about Corbyn."

"Ah. What about him?" His dark eyebrow arched up.

I shrugged. "I need him to be okay. I think there's something he's really dealing with... Maybe you could talk to him? If he has someone to confide in, he'll do better, I'm sure of it."

"Oh. I hadn't noticed. Does this affect him at school?"

"Yeah. And everyone else to be honest."

"How?"

I bit my lip. "Some people find him overbearing. He's always loved the spotlight, being the center of attention and I don't hold that against him. I just want him to get along with everybody."

Mr. Starr lifted his fingers to his chin, pondering my query. "Alright, I hear you. I'll definitely talk to him. Tonight in fact."

"Thank you."

"Thank you for informing me. Have a good night."

🎤🎤🎤

~Corbyn's POV~

I pulled up to Nico's home, the tires of my silver Porsche crunching against the sand. "You live in a trailer park," I observed.

"No, I just had you drive here so we could enjoy the sights and watch the sunrise," he responded sarcastically as he unbuckled his seatbelt and got out.

I glared at him, letting go of the wheel. I watched as he opened the backseat door and grabbed the food my mother had packed for him. I huffed and opened my door, climbing out and following him.

He stopped and furrowed his eyebrows at me in confusion. "Excuse you? Get back in your luxury car and drive back to paradise. This is no place for you to be or else you'll get mugged or something."

"I wanna come in."

"Lemme guess, you've never been inside one of these? Well it's nothing special." He pulled out his keys and proceeded to unlock the door. "Wear eye protection; this isn't for the entitled."

I rolled my eyes. "Fucking open the door, little demon shit," I grumbled, not bothering to help him carry the food. He jutted the door with his shoulder and grunted.

"Stupid thing keeps getting jammed." He managed to get it open and we walked inside. It was...

Small.

"Well... Looks bigger than I thought it would."

He walked into what I supposed would serve as a kitchen and dropped the food on the table. "You're a fantastic liar."

"You wouldn't be able to tell when I lie, if I do lie. No, I'm being honest. What reason do I have to bullshit? Hey, my closet is bigger than this trailer."

"Yeah, I fucking know." He approached me, reaching into the cupboard for a pack of cigarettes and lighter.

I scoffed. "Okay, no." I took the pack away from him and the look of offense he gave me was laughable. "I'm a singer. There is no way I'm letting you taint my lungs with smoke."

"You're in my trailer. Besides, I'm neither entertaining you nor serving your needs." He snatched the cigarettes back and I frowned. "I plan to pray to my dad and fall asleep in peace. Please go home."

I rolled my eyes yet again, turning around and maneuvering through the tight space of his home. "Where are your parents? Your family?" I ran my fingers over the worn couch that had been turned into his bed, with a few thin covers over it and two dented pillows.

"Nowhere. It doesn't matter."

I looked back at him, and he was already busy pulling off his shirt. He didn't touch the necklaces that he had on, the ones that looked like centuries-old artifacts. One was an upside down cross that made me hike up one of my brows, but I dared not ask. He even had some tattoos across his chest, but I couldn't see them well in the awful lighting.

"So you live alone and fend for yourself. What's in that fridge over there?"

He snorted. "Just what your mom gave me." He picked the food up from the little counter, opened the refrigerator and placed the Tupperware inside. "Some water. Leftover beans, eggs, milk... An old can of tuna that I should probably throw away. A bruised apple that I'm saving for a rainy day." He smirked at me. "And of course, two six-packs of cheap beer that my man Jett gave me."

"Oh great. Another irrelevant name I'll never remember."

"He comes in clutch, that guy. He's my neighbor, sorta. Always high or drunk, and there's this pretty lady that he took in. Her name's Joana."

"Interesting," I pretended to care as I toyed with a skull trinket that was set on the dresser. "Jett..." I mumbled, facing him. "What's his last name?"

Nico laughed dryly. "Oh please. I doubt you've ever come across the guy; he doesn't leave this place unless he goes to buy cigarettes, drugs, and beer."

"But he'd go to a gas station to buy those things, wouldn't he?" My lips tightened. "What's his last name?"

"Michaels. Jett Michaels."

I averted my eyes, my throat closing up. "And he lives here?" I warily asked.

"About four homes over, why? Something wrong?" He stepped closer and I shook my head.

"No! Just... I need to go." I put the skull down, reaching into my pocket. I walked up to him, grabbing his hand and placing every single bill that I had on me.

"What're you..." His voice trailed off when he saw four hundred dollars in his palm. With wide eyes, he speechlessly looked back up at me.

"Goodnight," I whispered, rushing out of his trailer and straight to my car. Nico was right. This was no place for me.

🎗🎗🎗🎗🎗

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