Tw: Sexual-coercion, Misogyny, addiction, cheating

https://pin.it/5LP2BsVwN

Song: Dope - Yung Trappa

Relationships:

Mother - Maria Arhipova - Short, tired woman. Worked as an accountant. Genuinely cared for Mitya and tried to give him a proper education. Was always treated as a nagging wife and mother. She disapproved of moving to LA but Fedya and Mitya left anyways. Lost contact with Mitya after that.

Jason Yunm - Dark hair, tan, warm smile, pleasant, calming voice. works with GlobalProduction Records. Completely money-oriented. He manipulative and charming to get what he wants in the long run.

Mia - Beautiful tan woman, Long dark hair, Curvy figure. Two degrees, in computer science and bio-engineering. She is only with Mitya because of his money. She is planning to leave him immediatley after she gets her career in order.

Damien - Darkskin man with dreads. A quiet, but fun-loving guy. Has a unique fashion style. Musically talented and hard-working. Has always been kind and genuine to Mitya.

Ajax, Malik - Mitya's "friends". A bunch of yes-men and detergents. They have no loyalty to him and will leave without a second thought.

Father - Fedya Arhipov - Tall, attractive man with dark hair. Former lawyer and family-man. Used to be the "fun" parent, made impulsive expensive purchases and didn't pay attention to his wife or to Mitya. After moving to LA pressured Mitya to sign with Jason's record label, then left to party in Miami.

Mitya had everything. A mansion in the hills. A garage full of luxury cars. A closet with designer clothes. Model girl bringing him drinks. Glass tables and shots. This was everything he ever wanted. But Mitya knew it wouldn’t last long. He was shameless, ungrateful, bitter and mean, but he wasn’t stupid. The industry was competitive, and he couldn’t compete. All that he had would disappear as soon as he stopped bringing in millions. He knew that. Everyone knew that. The difference between him and the other rappers was that they would fight tooth and nail for a spot at the top. Even if he fought, even if he tried, he’d never be number one. So he wasn’t going to fight. He was going to drown in a pool full of liquor.

What separated a good artist from the rest was passion. People that made music, not for money or fame. People like Damien. Passion... that. Mitya hated that word. He hadn’t felt passionate about anything since he was 14. But he was also not a good artist so it made sense. He used to like making music. Back then, before the benders, before powder and needles. He and his friends would hang out, mess around in FL studio, try to record stupid songs. And when he finally got his first computer, he would spend days in his room playing with beatmakers, writing lyrics and just messing around. Mitya was never serious about it. He didn’t have talent like others, this was just a way to pass time. Still it was nice when he got decent numbers on Soundcloud, or when DJs let him play his tracks and the crowd actually sang along. In those moments, he felt on top of the world. Like he wasn’t just a waste of oxygen. There was a sense of accomplishment when the crowd cheered his name. Mitya’s biggest mistake was that he got used to the grimy clubs and basements where everyone knew his name, dancing with his friends, coming home to his mother’s reprimands. That was the life he knew. He didn’t dream of anything more.

Everything changed when he met Jason Yunm. Mitya had seen him before, at a few of the parties he performed at. He looked like a movie star, like someone rich, someone way too good to be in this grimy basement with him. The guy never danced, never even drank. He just stood, watching him. One day, Jason approached him, told Mitya to stop wasting time with amateurs and come to his penthouse next Friday. Mitya agreed. He was always down to party, always down to perform. That Friday was the moment the fog of contentment cleared from Mitya’s eyes.

Mitya was out of place before he even walked in. Truthfully, he had never been somewhere so packed. There were at least 10 times more people than the crowds he was used to. Even worse, Mitya recognized some of them. Singers and rappers. He’d seen them on tv. Everyone was dressed in designer. Brands he had never seen in real-life. Mitya came prepared. He had spent his royalties on new expensive clothes, hoping to impress someone, but who was he kidding? He looked like he was wearing a costume. It was like he stepped into another world, where he was vermin. Mitya wanted to leave, but he couldn’t. There was a burning pit of...something in his stomach. A feeling he didn’t quite understand. Jason approached. He didn’t greet him but pulled him aside and began to inform Mitya of the people attending. Everyone there was either a label executive, a famous musician, singer, rapper, a model or some CEO. Mitya wasn’t stupid. He knew what this was. A path paved in gold straight into the music industry. People sold their souls to be right where he was, and Mitya got in, just because. Maybe that’s what kept him from leaving. Jason was giving him a life changing opportunity. Why? Did he, maybe, possibly, believe that Mitya wasn’t worthless, that there was something to him? That he had potential? God, Mitya hoped that was the case, because he was going to see this through to the end.

The party...Mitya wasn’t actually sure how the party went. Whenever he felt nervous, Jason would give him a drink, or a handful of pills. On top of that, to make a good impression Mitya took whatever the guests did. By the end of the night he could barely stand. The last thing he remembered was Jason pushing him into a bedroom. There was a girl on the bed, melting into the mattress, her face was dissolving as the whole room seemed to warp. Mitya didn’t want to do this. He really, REALLY didn’t want to. He tried to leave, push his way out the room but his body wouldn’t listen. He tried to tell Jason but he just gave him another mouthful of pills. The girl began to undress him. Mitya wanted to scream but his mouth wouldn’t open. Even if he did, no one would hear him, the bass outside was deafening. She was terrifying, and Mitya felt so weak. He couldn’t do anything. When Mitya awoke, it was silent, the girl was gone. He wasn’t sure why, but he wanted to cry. It was stupid, nothing bad happened, on the contrary, he should have been grateful for getting the chance to sleep with a girl. She was probably pretty, maybe even a model. Wasn’t that the dream. And Jacob probably just didn’t hear what he said, afterall Mitya was slurring his words. And even if he did hear, good on him to ignore Mitya, Jason was older, he knew better. As Mitya lay there, he kept waiting for the moment he would feel happy. It never came so he walked home feeling nothing.

That party was just the beginning. The first chapter of his new life. From there, things began to move at a rapid pace. When Mitya returned home there were police in his apartment. Apparently, three days had passed. Maria was yelling, asking what the hell he was thinking. After Mitya didn’t respond, she stopped talking to him. At the same time Fedya’s law firm got back on its feet, 5 big clients in a row, all winning cases. Maria and Fedya began to argue everyday. Fedya wanted to move to LA, now that they had the means. Maria refused, said Mitya still had exams, they had elderly family, they couldn’t just drop everything. But the next day, Fedya told him to pack his bags. They got on the plane the same hour. Without her. Jason met them at the airport, gave Fedya keys to a red Mercedes. The day was a whirlwind. Fedya took him on a tour of LA though they never stayed at one place for more than 10 minutes. He got Mitya new clothes, a new phone, took him to eat at expensive restaurants and got him into clubs. When the sun was about to set him and Fedya arrived at a huge modern mansion in the hills. The view was breathtaking. It was all so much. Too much. Mitya didn’t even have time to process it all. How was Fedya so familiar with Jason? Was his mom going to join them? Most importantly, Where did Fedya get all this money from? Mitya wasn’t stupid. He knew there had to be a price to pay.

Sure enough, Jason and Fedya sat him down,

“You’ve got so much talent, Mitya”

There it was.

“You have so much potential, We’re a team, remember”

They wanted him to sign to Jason's record label

“Wasn’t today fun? Wasn’t this what you dreamed of? You can live like this from now on”

Mitya hadn’t even considered living like this as a possibility

“Don’t be selfish, I-We, we worked so hard to arrange all this for you, I-WE, need a place LA”

He felt like an inmate being interrogated. This was all too sudden. But then again, did he even have a choice? Now that they were here, he and Fedya did need a place to stay. And Jason and Fedya had done so much for him, and who was he to turn down a mansion and a car. And, well, they knew best, this was Fedya and Jason afterall. His father and a label executive. Mitya signed everything Jason gave him. Fedya signed the rest. And that was that. Just a day ago, he was a regular C student. Now he had a mansion in LA and a 5 year contract. Now he could do the things he loved, make music and party, all while getting paid. He had everything he ever wanted. Fast cars, clothes, money. Well, Mitya never really wanted any of that until last week...but It was still a dream come true. Why didn’t he feel happy? Was he really that much of an ungrateful brat? He knew he should be happy. Any kid his age would want this. Then why did he feel so...scared?

But god, he did feel fucking scared. Terrified. It was just...he didn’t know anybody. Fedya left, not even a week later. So much for needing a place in LA. Mitya didn’t know where he went, he stopped answering Mitya’s calls. So did his mother. The number was no longer in use. His friends from back home? Silence. Mitya never got a chance to breathe. The mansion was always full of people, all stars, rich and successful and so, so beautiful. Mitya was nothing and they could all tell. He knew they were all laughing behind his back, he knew they saw right through him. Mitya used to hate when Maria ordered him around, but now? He’d give anything for someone to tell him what to do. That’s where Jason came in. Jason took care of everything, the paperwork and finances. He told Mitya how to behave, when and who to speak to, which girls to avoid and which to get with. He was a shoulder to cry on when Mitya just wanted to get on a plane and fly home. And Mitya wanted that more than anything. Because he wasn’t an idiot. Mitya knew he didn’t belong, he knew that everyone saw him as a potential target. Everyone lied. Right to his face. Everyone wanted something from him. They wanted his money, his work, his body. Something. He could see it in their eyes. That’s why he looked at the floor. He couldn’t even record music, the whole reason Fedya and Jason moved him here. Being in a studio, the one thing he did genuinely want, felt nauseating. Was THIS supposed to be fun? He wasn’t having fucking fun. At least he had Jason, and at least he had molly. After an uncertain amount of pills and alcohol, Mitya felt like his old self. For those few blissful moments, every social interaction didn’t make him want to sob. But , did it take a lot to get there. So much that he spent the majority of the parties almost comatose on a couch. Only when he was half dead did he have the courage to talk to someone. When did it become this way? He couldn’t remember. He couldn’t remember much of what he did during this time. He didn’t even remember how he recorded his first album. That was probably for the best.

That album was probably the best thing that happened to him. It was a resounding success, half the songs charting number one. Mitya couldn’t even remember writing the tracks, and yet, there he was, “best new upcoming artist”. Huh. Well, if he could make such a good album on the verge of an overdose maybe he did have something. Talent or whatever. Passion? All of a sudden, the room didn’t get quieter when he walked in. All of a sudden, people didn’t snicker when his name was mentioned. It didn’t matter, all that mattered was that Jason said he was proud of him. Mitya earned 38 million from the whole ordeal, another 20 from the performances and concerts he had to do. He wasn’t sure how much the label took but that didn’t matter. Jason deserved the cut. If it wasn’t for him, Mitya would have probably OD-ed. Now? He was finally starting to open up. What the hell was he on before, THIS was fun. Mitya could do, have anything, anyone. Why the hell had he spent so long moping around. Also why the hell wasn’t he making music. He had a fucking studio in his mansion, he had all the equipment and programs. For the first time in what felt like ages, he stopped being the equivalent of a vegetable and took matters into his own hands. He danced, partied on yachts and rooftops, met people, took his cars out for drives and got back into the studio. Mitya met Damien. He was like the rappers he used to listen to when he was little. He spoke in a low, melodic timbre, dressed like...unlike anyone in his circles. And his music, it was rap but there was something new about it. That was it, that was what Mitya had been going for all that time.. That was the sound. It inspired Mitya. Passion. Mitya stopped using, at least cut down to the point it was unnoticeable. He spent days recording, producing, writing lyrics, practicing, learning music theory, composition. He wanted to make something from the heart. It was all going well until Jason came to check on him. Mitya felt nervous letting Jason listen to the project, his approval mattered more than it should have. Especially at that moment, on a work so personal.

“What the hell is this? Some kind of joke? Why did you write this?”

That’s what Jason said. Maybe he just didn’t understand, Mitya tried to explain, maybe the metaphors were unclear or the symbolism was muddy. Jason just cut him off. He said no one would like this. This would never be played anywhere. Before Mitya could say another word, Jason picked a song and released it. Mitya tried to delete it, write a message on his socials that it was a leak, tried to do something, but it was too late. He saw the response. People all over the world agreed with Jason. Said it was shit. No one understood. Jason just laughed. He told Mitya to stick to what he knew. Mitya sat on the floor of the studio for a while, just looking at the wall. He actually tried that time, actually put in effort. Never again.

It was as if he was back to his first week in LA. To the day Fedya left and Mitya became completely alone. Whatever thoughts of passion or talent Mitya still had left were obliterated. What was he even thinking, what gave him the idea that he could ever be like Damien, or like anyone that surrounded him. He was a nobody. Nothing. Worthless. And why did he even try? that. Damien. rap, every single “artist” out there. It wasn't fair. None of this was fair. At the end of the day, if people like Damien failed, they'd still be admired. Because they came from nothing, because they built their careers from scratch. Mitya was handed everything and he still couldn't win. Mitya scrapped the project. He recorded another album. It took less than a day. He didn’t try this time, didn’t perfect the mix, or make sure his vocals were clear. He did it all in one take, just to get it out. Sure, it was a success, why wouldn’t it be, it was the most generic vomit inducing work he had ever made. Turns out that was the only thing he could make. What was the point in continuing if all he was capable of was making mediocre garbage. To get high everyday? Guess that was the answer. From the moment the album released, Mitya didn’t spend a single day sober. He never set foot inside his studio. There was no need to anymore. He was done. Retired at 19. This was the final stretch. Mitya was going to burn it all. Whatever money and fame he had left, then die in a pathetic blaze of hedonism. Every single fucking cent, until all the gold-diggers and leaches abandoned ship and all the rest of the degenerates burned alongside him. All that was left was the wait until they revealed who was who.