Phanett Earth *DON'T BOTHER TO READ, UNDERGOING MAJOR STORY CHANGE*

Chapter 2.

Brett Higgerson was in his university flat, playing on his guitar in front of a live show online, on a website called YouNow. One of his fans, they called themselves Brettlings, requested he played an Ed Sheeran song. He laughed, starting into the melody of A Team.

"White lips, pale face, breathing in snow flakes..." He sang the rest of the song in perfect tune, a deep masculine voice escaping his lips. He softly finished the chorus, and smiled to the webcam, reading the comments he got after his performance. Wow. He had awesome fans! Many more song requests came through and he gladly fulfilled some of their wishes.

After a while, he looked towards the digital clock sitting on his task bar. It was 11:00pm already. He'd been on for three and a half hours! Oops. He started speaking to the screen in front of him. "Sorry guys, I have to go. Things to do, places to go..." He laughed, shoving his rubber duck on top of his head. "Dave says bye! Love you guys!" Brett waved, logging off. That was a good night, he thought to himself.

"Urgh. Revision." He mumbled, reaching for the nearest textbook. He started colour coordinating different facts, and stuck them up on the ceiling. He'd read them every night as he was falling asleep. His ceiling was now a jumble of a mess. It was filled with post it notes, pieces of paper and revision cards. However, Brett thought it made him look intelligent. Yea, not so much.

He turned on Spotify, deciding to listen to music as he worked. The innocent listening soon turned to full out browsing through Tumblr and Twitter. And that's how he spent the next five hours, completely forgetting about the responsible task he was meant to do. When he felt himself falling asleep in front of the screen, he decided that it was enough for today.

Turning off his laptop, he went into the bathroom, making sure to complete his usual 'bedtime' ritual. He brushed his teeth, dressed into a lose, baggy top and boxers, and dropped into bed, feeling completely at ease. He picked up his iPhone and played around on it. "Siri, tell me a story." He spoke up, finding a way to pass the time. The phone replied with; "It's kind of long, Brett." That's what she said! He chuckled to himself before burrying his face in his green pillow.

He mumbled, "I need to see a doctor, my mind's messed up." It was then he drifted off into dream land.

The next day was uneventful for Brett. Well, if you don't count freaking out over a strange, stalker like email. When he opened the email in the morning, he was seriously creeped out.

*Earlier that day*

Brett woke up to the sound of his ringtone indicating he had a message. He groaned loudly, stretching across the bed and hitting his phone, making the music shut the heck up. He rolled around the bed, still in a state of ignorance to surroundings. It took him falling off the bed to actually wake up. "Ouch." He muttered, rubbing his head. He slowly got up, brushing off imaginary dust. Urgh. He could kill for a couple of more extra moments in bed. But hey, life's a bitch, right?

He groaned and went into the bathroom, brushing his teeth and styling his hair with a comb. No need for any hair products, his hair was straight as a ruler as it was. He opened his closet and throwing on a random white t-shirt, skinny red jeans and his white Converse, he padded down into the kitchen.

He turned on the kettle while picking up his post. After seeing nothing important, he trashed the paper into the blue recycling bin. Making himself a cup of coffee along with grabbing a croissant, he powered up his laptop, quickly checking his emails. Just a couple from his friends. Then, Brett noticed he received an email from an unknown email address. His curiosity was eating away at him, but it could be a virus... He hesitantly clicked on it.

'Hey Brettyyyyyy! I absolutely love youuuuuuu! Don't worry, you'll meet me soon <3 and then we can be together for ever and everrrrrr! Yay :D"

The confused, wide eyed male pushed the laptop away from himself, looking around. The hairs on the back of his neck stood up as a single thought kept playing through his head, as if on repeat.