ยป Itโs all Brandon can do to follow Vanessa into his room, bewildered. She just keeps talking and talking and seriously - what kind of delusional narrative has she constructed in her head?ย It actually kind of โฆ gets to them. Theyโve known each other for months, now, and thatโsย what she assumes about him? This is just like Vanessa. Yes, blithe ignorance of anything the other says is a fundamental aspect of their relationship. But this is pushing it a bit. Isnโt it? Heโs not that person anymore. He is not that person anymore. He opens his mouth to ask if sheโs projecting, but before any words can escape, she pulls out the laptop.ย
A sixteen-year-old Brandon smiles back at them. Thereโs a sincerity in his eyes, his love for acting and the screen radiating through the monitor, and Brandon feels the irrational urge to reach through the screen and shake the kid and say hey, you can turn back. you can say no. you can be free.
It would be useless, they know; Brandonโs never been good at taking advice. Case in point: instead of shutting this down, they let a familiar smile spread across their features, beatific and beautiful and utterly empty. If this is what Vanessa wants, if this is the Brandon she sees, Brandon can perform. โAw,โ he coos, sickly sweet,ย โis this your way of confessing youโre my fan, Silva? Yโwant me to smile at you and hit you with aย โHeyyy, Nessie?โโ Intellectually, Brandon knows that this is a terrible idea, that he is playing straight into Vanessaโs ridiculous psychological trap, but he nonetheless bridges the distance and pushes playย on the device. โOr โฆ did you wanna be Sam Prathum, instead?โ The scene unfolds between them, idyllic, a discordant soundtrack to whatever fucked up cosmic script is playing out in real life. The Brandon on the screen laughs at something Miley says. The Brandon in real life feigns shock. โWhy, Vanessa โฆ are you jealous? Of little olโ me?โ
His smile: a needle that delicately pierces under her skin every time. Their eyes: mirrors as cold and unfeeling as glass โ she wants to call them vapid but the word that comes to mind is vacant. A void Vanessa could fall into, a vacuum that draws her curiosity forth, wondering if there is more to Brandon than meets the eye.ย
They speak, voice syrup and saccharine, and their hold over her is shaken and thrown off. Brandon is exactly as they seem: a pain in her ass, sitting with ankles crossed atop a pedestal, mocking her chained to the earth as they make a home among the stars. What other entertainment is there for people like Brandon? The world is given to them before they think to ask for it. Her mother has lived off the scraps of people like him, and Vanessa would, too, if not for the society leveling the field they play on.
Her laugh is an avalanche headed toward Brandon and their carved jaw, that haunting look in his gaze. โBelieve me, you need to do better than this to win me over.โ She watches him as he watches the screen, and for perhaps the first time, she wonders what he sees. The Brandon on her laptop is all Brandon is to Vanessa: a relic of his glory days, when fame was his birthright and his name cast a larger shadow than mountains. Do they see another version of themself, who Vanessa has yet to meet?
There is a soft click as Vanessa closes the laptop and sets it aside when Brandon begins speaking of jealousy. Heโs close, like an arrow hitting the back of the target. Yes, of course she is jealous of them โ but not because a Google search summons adoration for a Hollywood heartthrob or a list of his achievements that cannot be taken away from him. There is a sharper edge to her envy, one Vanessa canโt name or describe. Instead, she lets it darken her gaze as she stares at them. โAnd why should I be?โ she asks, quieter now. โWhat do you have that you think I donโt, Pohnthachit? Enlighten me.โ
