Life behind the fame; A Conor Maynard fanfiction

Chapter 12

Conor's P.O.V

It was up, it was officially up.

My hands are shaking as I try to type out the link to the video, the video that I wasn't even meant to film and definitely not meant to upload.

Yet I'd still done it, my cover of Drake's 'Hotline bling' was now up on my YouTube channel and it was free for anyone to watch it, which meant it was also free for anyone to hate on it.

I wait for a second, staring at the tweet that had taken literally minutes to type out, even though it only contained a simple link.

Contemplating on whether to press the button or not do I feel my heart beat hard in my chest, black creeping in the corner of my eyes even though I vigorously rub them to try and get rid of it.

Since when had stuff like this gotten so hard, since when had I started to struggle whilst trying to interact with my fans.

Yet I knew it was because I felt let down and that had eventually only made me let them down as well.

Fuck it, I press the button and it doesn't take long until the replies start dropping in, people just being randomly surprised by why I'd so out of the blue had decided to start being active again.

I start reading through some of the comments that have been left upon the video but I instantly regret it.

Even though many of them are good do I only seem to see the bad ones, the ones that say something negative.

Comments about autotune, that my voice clearly can't be that good in real life even though they haven't even heard me live before and people just over all dissing me as a person.

It was hard but sometimes it just doesn't affect me, it is as if I'm already so up in hating myself it doesn't matter if a couple of hundred others do the same.

They were clearly right anyway.

Slamming my laptop shut do I leave it on the dinner table even though I know I should be reading through the emails that Alaska had forwarded to me a few days ago.

It was everything to do with the Diesel collaboration and I knew she wanted answers about sizes and my own style inspirations. She'd sat tonight as deadline yet I couldn't bear to do it right now or it would actually feel as if I was suffocating myself, the amount of oxygyne that reached my lungs not being enough for my boiling brain.

"Oh god what's happened to you mate, you look horrendous?!"

I turn around to face Jack and Alex that are sat on the sofa playing a game of FIFA like usual.

"What?!"

Why was it so hard for people to understand when I wasn't in the mood of talking to anyone, like I hadn't even said a word and still they need to start up on a fresh conversation as soon as they see me.

"You look like you haven't slept in days mate, busy doing naughty stuff, are we?"

Alex chuckle making me wonder why Alaska so easily could see when I'm hurting yet my friend that I've known since I was sixteen still believed the smile I put on to hide my inner emotions.

"Shut up Alex, just leave him to be, that's the easiest option"

Jack slap his upper arm to switch his attention from me back to the TV and I sigh as I walk the last couple of meters to my bedroom, isolating myself from the world outside.

I like to think that I'm over it, I like to tell people that I am. Sometimes I even convince myself that I am. The truth is though, I'm really, really not.