“Honey, are you ready for the Thanksgiving party yet?” Danny smiled softly, feeling a familiar sense of responsibility wash over him. “Yeah, mom, I’m good,” he said, placing a gentle kiss on her forehead. “Don’t worry, I can handle it,” he added, trying to reassure her. “We know son, we just don’t want to put too much stress on you.”
His dad waltzed in, his booming voice filling the room.“Yeah, son, we know you’re a big boy now, but we still worry about you.” Danny’s smile tightened slightly as he nodded. “I appreciate it, guys. You’ve always been there for me, and I love that.” Mom leaned forward. “Of course, dear. We know what’s best for you.” Danny’s eyes flickered slightly, but he pushed aside any doubts. He did love and appreciate all they did for him—the planning, the coordinating, the way they made everything perfect. They were the perfect parents, and he knew he should appreciate them more than he did sometimes.
“Speaking of which…” Danny’s mom glanced over at his dad, so Danny follows suit, looking to him. “We were looking at some photos from that party for [name] about a month ago.” His dad cleared his throat. “Well, your glass was empty before everyone else’s in the photos.” Moms eyes widened slightly as she chimed in. “Yes, dear, we did notice that.” Dad nodded. “Not a big deal, but we just wanted to mention it.” Danny felt his jaw clench.
“Oh yeah? What about it?” Danny tested.
Danny’s dad nodded solemnly. “Don’t drink so much son, bad press doesn’t need you looking like an alcoholic now.” Danny felt a bubble form in his chest as his parents chuckled. He forced out a laugh as well, trying to appear nonchalant. “We just want what’s best for you son,” mom said softly.
Danny felt a twinge of guilt and obligation wash over him. He knew his parents only wanted the best for him, but sometimes he felt like they were more interested in controlling every aspect of his life than letting him live it for himself.
“Okay, got it,” he said finally, trying to placate them. But as he left the room, he couldn’t shake the feeling that he was trapped in a never-ending cycle of never ending expectation.
Danny stepped out of his car and onto the driveway, the air a welcome respite from the chaos that was about to ensue. He took a deep breath, mentally preparing himself for the media frenzy that awaited him. As he walked towards the entrance, a cluster of reporters swarmed around him, their cameras and microphones thrust in his face. “Danny, Danny! Can you tell us about your upcoming album?” one of them shouted.
Danny’s eyes scanned the sea of faces, his mind racing for a way to deflect the questions. “I’m just focused on the music right now,” he said vaguely, trying to usher them away. He hated days like this, when the paparazzi seemed to be everywhere. He was used to it, of course - as the golden boy of Hollywood, he was always in the public eye. But it still got old.
But they were relentless. “What’s the real story behind your scandal with Evangeline Astor?” another reporter asked, her voice dripping with salacious curiosity.
Danny’s eyes narrowed, his jaw clenched in frustration. Why did they always have to make such a big deal about that one time? “It’s old news,” he remarked, trying to brush it off, with a fluttering smile. The reporter momentarily got lost in it all. Danny kept moving.
But when one fell two popped up. “We have footage of you saying you hate singing!” another one chimed in. “Can you confirm or deny?” The reporters surged forward, sensing blood in the water. “What do you mean it’s fake?” someone else asked.
But Danny had already had enough. He strode past them, into the up to the yacht. He was done with this day already.
Danny made his way to his assigned seat at the Thanksgiving dinner table, scanning the place settings to make sure he wasn’t sitting next to anyone too awkward or uncomfortable. Just to prepare himself. He spotted the name “Kavi Singh” next to his and raised an eyebrow. He had no idea who that was. He sat down, trying to remember if his parents had ever mentioned someone named Kavi. Danny’s parents usually took care of seating arrangements. Nothing came to mind. He waited for his table mate.
@Caticorn | Kavi
@sunflowerjm | Cam mentioned