Oneshots and Other Things

Replaceable ~ Part 1

I don't know why I suddenly decided to finish a random draft I had today. I was in the mood to write something sad so I took that out on Stephen XD and I needed a reason for him to be sad so Simon is now mean (I would say I don't know why I did that but when I was a kid he genuinely seemed scary and even now that I'm older, he still seems very intimidating :p )

Anyway, this is the result of my boredom...

(*~*)

Replaceable, disposable, insignificant.

He probably wasn't meant to have heard Simon's phone call. Not that he hadn't had some of it said to his face; after all, Simon wasn't one to mince his words. None of that stopped them from cutting into him though, undermining his already wavering confidence that little bit further.

It seemed crueller to keep him there year after year if that was how they felt. He didn't know why he said yes anymore when they offered to extend his contract for another series. If he didn't take the job, he'd lose something he loved to do; he'd see less of Ant and Dec and he'd miss the group of regular auditionees who everyone else mocked but he appreciated if only because they put up with his antics as well.

This year, even those reasons to stay were starting to be overruled by the list telling him it was time to go. Simon had somehow managed to get harsher behind closed doors, always stern and disapproving. He hadn't seen as much of Ant and Dec as normal. Even the day-to-day entertainment that the members of the public provided was failing to offset his discomfort.

He couldn't tell if he was withdrawing or if everyone else was pulling away. Even in the judges' room, which was never empty, he managed to sit on his own, to look busy enough that no one bothered him when he was taking a rare break. Or maybe they were glad to have the excuse that he looked preoccupied.

All of the judges except Simon were in there and the laughter on the other side of the room taunted him needlessly. He could hear Ant too, which meant Dec was probably there as well. All of them. But not him.

The BGMT crew seemed to understand. They were all outsiders in Simon's eyes; always had been. And everyone was a little afraid of him, however ludicrous that seemed. Stephen bit the bullet frequently, speaking for the group when the head judge was around, trying to organise interviews with him for the show. It wasn't really his job but he felt for the producers of the ITV2 show too much. They didn't deserve to put up with the near constant undermining.

"How has it been this morning?"

He startled at the question, swallowing his surprise when Simon appeared in his field of vision, sitting on the adjacent sofa. He dropped his phone into his lap, almost conditioned to immediately give the older man his full attention, nodding quickly. "Yeah, not bad."

"But not good?" Simon replied, already managing to sound fed up. Stephen wanted to tell him to leave if he wasn't interested in talking but knew he didn't have the confidence, nor was he foolish enough to put everything on the line.

"First day in a new place," he explained, professional as always, "It usually takes the morning session for everyone to get used to things."

"Well, we can't afford to miss the acts we need on the show just because we've moved location," Simon countered, getting back to his feet and turning away, "I want results, Stephen."

Stephen watched him go, no doubt heading off to his seat to have his make-up redone. He sympathised with whoever was unlucky enough to be stuck with him from the make-up team just to keep the invasive thoughts from immediately wrecking his mood.

Replaceable, disposable, insignificant.

That was what he was in Simon's eyes – how the show he'd spent years curating was perceived. There was a running gag that it was bad but that was all part of the charm. That was a controlled joke that he'd come up with. He didn't mind being made fun of; he had fairly thick skin; but Simon got to him like no one else. He knew his insecurities, somehow, and exploited them.