Joining 'Chelsea's Zone'

Chelsea groaned, throwing another spotted black-and-white pillow at me which I caught the moment before it hit my face, letting it dump onto the ground beside me. I leaned my feet on the small table, tilting slightly backwards. I watched as Chelsea reached out her hand, grabbing a handful of the sour cream & onion chips placed in a small bowl on the other side of the table. It was weird, the way she ate chips like it were popcorn.

"Come on, Peter! We both know that you have the talent, the technique and the exact connections that'll help you start a career!" She let out the moment she had gulped down the chips.

Chelsea had used the past three hours on trying to convince me to join her in that music hobby of hers. She had even made a powerpoint presentation with different reasons to give in as well as the best possible outcomes. She had even wrote a song, rambling about how it would fit my voice perfectly and what a waste it was for me to even protest.

"But I don't want to be a singer," I let out a sigh, running a hand through my dark curls, making sure to make my frustration as visible as possible.

But Chelsea was either dense or simply didn't care at all. "You haven't even tried yet! It's like a kid still in kindergarten calling some food they have never even tried yucky!"

Not knowing how to reply since she did have a point, I just muttered: "It's different."

"No it's not and you know it," She huffed, throwing herself backwards on the couch, then shot out a hand to keep her laptop from sliding down her lap. "You really are childish, aren't you? You haven't yet tried a professiomal career in the musical industry, and because of that, I will certainly not let you reject before you have even given it a try," She added.

"Stupid old hag. And it's just called the music industry, not musical." I growled. "And I'm not childish. The childish one in this room is you."

"Yea, yea,"

It wasn't because it was the first time my best friend had attempted to drag me into what she called 'the wonderful world of music' (I usually just refered to it as 'Chelsea's zone') - this time, she was just even more insisting, and overall pestering me more than usual. She herself had been a professional singer and dancer for the past year, having owned her father's strong voice and her mother's good looks and flexible body - and with her uncle working as a producer, it hadn't taken her long to make her name known.

"Y'know," The brunette placed her elbows ontop of her laptop, folding her hands and leaning her head on them. Her intense gaze rested on me, and I felt as if I she was staring into my soul. "I really think this could be good for you. It would definitely give you something else to think of and invest your time to, and maybe even help you move on."

I winced at how straight-forward she was being, giving a small flinch. If there was one thing, just one thing Chelsea was missing, it was a little more consideration and empathy and the ability to read the room.

Since half a year ago I hadn't really been at my best. I had rarely ever smiled nor cracked a joke, and I hadn't let out as much as a giggle. All because of the grief scratching and scraping at my heart every single second of my life. All because of the dark voices always nagging the back of my thoughts. All because of the hollow space his death had torn up inside me, leaving it to never ever be filled again. After he had passed away, I simply hadn't felt truly happy. After all, I had lost the person most dear to me in an incident that had only occured because of one of my mistakes - and I was pretty sure I would never stop blaming myself for it, despite the therapist my parents had hired (without my consent) keeping me company on the weekdays.

"I know," I muttered, furrowing my brows into a frown. And I really did. I knew that she, deep down, just wanted the best for me - though I also knew that she was probably planning on using my voice in a few of her songs, if I ended up agreeing that was.

And to be honest, I was pretty sure that I at this point did not have a choice anymore.

"Then what the hell is holding you back?" She let out an exaggerated sigh, leaning her head backwards once again and letting her arms rest on the edge of the couch.

"I just..." I paused. I didn't have a valid nor reasonable answer for that question. At this point, I was only protesting out of stubbornness rather than sharing my actual opinion. I guess I was pretty childish after all - but never in a million years I'd admit that out loud.

"You just?" Chelsea lifted an eyebrow, waiting for me to finish my sentence, yet knowing that I wouldn't.

"I hate you," I muttered through gritted teeth and narrowing my eyes slightly, a frown once again appearing on my forehead. Despite my slitted eyes, I could clearly see Chelsea's lighting up with triumph. She jumped up from the couch, throwing a fist into the air as she cried out;

"Victory is mine!"

Her laptop fell to the ground with a thud as she stood up, and I could do nothing but burst out in laughter, breaking my streak of not laughing for six months. And as Chelsea's thriumph turned into frustration and she let out curses I didn't even knew existed, only to begin laughing with me a little after, I couldn't help but think that maybe, just maybe, I would possibly be able to feel true, long-lasting happiness again.