Vinu Patel {capitol/stylist} wip

[Knuckles]

Vinu Patel
Thirty-Three
Stylist
Male

As a young boy, Vinu enjoyed finding whatever outfits his parents bought and placing them together in hopes of making a fashion statement. All he ever wanted was for people to like him, to praise his works. Vinu hunted for bragging rights no matter the cost, and sometimes his beautiful pieces of work ended in failure when someone said something negative towards the outfit he designed. He swore to change, to get better, to do whatever it took to make it all the way to the top, and even then, he stumbled backwards and failed time and time again until one day he completely put away the clothing his family purchased and let people wear whatever their heart desired.

But the idea of creating something wonderful still rang through his mind.

For the next several years, Vinu spent his time focusing on whatever his parents wanted him to. He went outdoors and started making more friends. It brought him a sense of happiness, a sense of belonging, yet it wasn't enough to fill the void left behind when he gave up on his passion. Having supportive parents seemed like everything would fall into place once more, but they were happier when he wasn't giving them outfits to wear for the sake of fashion. They wanted to dress themselves the way they desired, and they did very little to show Vinu otherwise. Being a failure of a son flows through his mind, yet he knew one day he'd pursue his passions once more without a care in the world.

His friends didn't understand him, and Vinu struggled finding a common interest with them, but he tried so hard, he fought with himself because all he wanted to do was find someone that would let him freely follow his passions and dreams without mocking him. It all seems so simple, yet it's so far away, but as a twelve-year-old, nobody ever took him seriously.

What came next was the hardest of realities for anyone who ever cared for him. He pushed his so-called friends away because none of them cared about what he wanted, and any time he brought it up, they'd laugh at him and change the subject. His parents became more silent than ever especially when he talked about his desires to make people fashionable and beyond presentable for events and other parties. They told him it wouldn't work out, and that he should look somewhere else because nobody wants someone who always talks about clothes around them.

It became so hard to remain silent, and even at the age of sixteen, Vinu struggled respecting his parents' wishes knowing they wanted something better for him. All they cared about was a life he had going forward and finding someone that would allow him to design their outfits was out of the question.

But Vinu never stopped looking.

And then his parents told him if he wouldn't stop pursuing childish dreams, they would never speak to him again.

With only a couple of years left before his eighteenth birthday, Vinu knew he had to remain silent no matter what. His parents meant the world to him, and the idea of making them unhappy, the idea of displeasing them was one of the worst feelings in the entire world, but his happiness was suffering more than he ever imagined possible. Yet he put himself in a box and focused on other things once more despite his heart never being in any of them. Sometimes he sat and watched television with his family, other times he sat with them through a boring dinner without any sort of conversation. It's always quiet, everything always was, yet his insides were screaming, begging for him to come clean.

But I can't.

He had to whisper those words to himself more than he can count because it gave him the strength to keep his secrets to himself. To his parents, he pretended to be someone else, but when he was on his own, Vinu studied fashion seeking out a teacher to help him learn the ways. Knowing his parents could never find out, he stayed only went out when he was supposed to spend time with his so-called friends, but what his parents didn't know was, Vinu didn't have any friends.

Vinu didn't need any friends.

Most of them never accepted him anyway, they were put off by his childish dreams, and they constantly put him down. Removing himself from the situation was the best thing he ever could've done. It instantly improved his wellbeing, yet his mind was still being held back in a cage by the idea of pleasing his parents. All he wanted was to move into the age of adulthood. His family had a ton of money, and they had already staked out a place for him to live once he was ready to be on his own.

And then it happened.

When he turned eighteen, he left his parents' house, and he went to live in the place they bought for him, and the happiness instantly started flowing through him once more. One room became his office where he kept the door locked and hid the key so nobody could find it, and in that room all he did was start putting together outfits so his instructor could see what he had come up with. Sometimes he received good remarks, but many times, he was told to think again, to try harder, to focus on the fashion at hand. But when his parents visited, Vinu made sure they would never have any trace of how he was actually living. He talked about what he did for work despite it being a lie. He spent his time telling them what they wanted to hear until he started getting good remarks consistently and was invited by his instructor to create a fashion line for someone willing to model.

At first, the nerves were almost unbearable. This was a huge deal, it could become life changing, and if this worked out, Vinu could share with his parents that his passion for fashion worked in his favor. Until then, he wouldn't say a word. Taking measurements and sending them off to the seamstress became important. He handpicked the fabrics being used, and he knew this could end in one of two ways. Once the clothing was ready, he showed it to his client hoping for the best. For a moment, he stood quietly with his eyes locked on the floor, but every couple of seconds, Vinu looked at the guy hoping for some sign of happiness and joy, and then he saw the smile, and his eyes lit up for the first time in many years.

"I love this, Vinu, you really know your fashion."

A large grim spread across his face, and in that moment, everything fell into place. Bringing himself to speak was impossible. A trial run, that's all he wants, all he needs, and maybe they'll love what he has.

He spent the next couple of years