rockstar // post malone

chapter one: austin

(Austin's POV)

Throughout all of the paparazzi, lack of privacy and press, one thing that will never get old to me is performing. The rush and adrenaline that the crowd and the music gives me is like a drug that I know I'll never get off of.

I take in the thousands of screaming people in front of me, some waving signs, some waving beers, and I just know then and there that this is what I want to do for the rest of my life. I pump my fist in the air as the last lyrics of my hit song Rockstar leave my lips. Yeah - my song. It's crazy to think that not too long ago, I was a nobody. Now, I get to say that I'm rocking the charts and the world with my music.

My breath leaves my mouth in heavy puffs, the air turning visible as it escapes in the frosty Wisconsin air. Something about the people of Wisconsin in this crowd bring me a great sense of happiness and hospitality. Being able to come into town and be welcomed by this many amazing fans gives me such a great amount of joy that it's almost overwhelming.

"Thank you Milwaukee!" I scream into my sweat-covered microphone. I'm met by a deafening roar of fans as they wave and jump as I begin to leave the stage with my tour homie 21 Savage, but to me he's just known as Shayaa. I raise my hand with my pinky and index fingers on show in the "rock-on" gesture as my final goodbye before meeting my crew off-stage.

"You've done it once again, Post." My manager Trayvon chuckles. He slaps my back as I grin in response before grabbing a beer out of the cooler and walking into the dressing room. I'm met by Shayaa who already has his beer ready, his white shirt wrapped around his sweaty neck as we both try to recover from the madness.

"Man, I swear the crowds just keep getting bigger and better." I remark to Shayaa before he laughs in agreement.

"I just can't wait for the bitches in Miami." He replies, causing me to cringe. Although my producers hand me songs that force me to call women "bitches", I've never been one to call them such a word. While guys like Shayaa say it on the regular, I've never said it once, and it's never been noticed fortunately. I don't know what Shayaa or my other friends like A$AP or Travis Scott would say if they knew how much of a softie I really was. I'm not ashamed, but I also don't want to be known as a pussy to them. Reputation is key, I remind myself.

Our next stop on the tour was New York City. I've been looking forward to this performance for basically the entire tour. My old fling would be there, and she knew I was coming. Although we haven't spoken face-to-face, no words need to be spoken. We know what our intentions are with each other and it's safe to say that I'm in need of a stress-reliever. I don't succumb to the tour groupies that are constantly trying to get in my pants. I leave that to Shayaa, who does a pretty good job at keeping them company.

I look in the mirror of the dressing room, observing my appearance. My braids hung around my face with sweat running through them. My face tattoos shined on my glimmering skin that hit the light of the lamp next to me. My orange shirt had sweat, but my black jeans and brown boots took no damage tonight. I took the golden grill off my teeth and helped myself to another beer, this one being gulped down faster than the last.

"I'm going outside for a smoke." I called to Shayaa as I left the dressing room. He bid me goodbye, never once joining me because of his dislike towards cigarettes. He smoked weed and does everything above that, but nicotine was the one card in the deck he wouldn't take. I quickly went down the hall and out a back door to the barren parking lot, pack of Marlboro's in hand as I took out my trusty red lighter with my name engraved on the side. I quickly lit the stick, taking a long drag before releasing the smoke into the frosty air.

"Nice job today, hot stuff." I heard a sickly sweet voice say behind me. I rolled my eyes before turning around to meet the eyes of Paisley Nelson, one of the groupies that didn't seem to know when to quit shadowing me.

"Thanks." I quipped shortly, releasing eye contact and taking another drag. The cigarette quickly left my fingers as her dainty claws snatched it from me to take an inhale from it herself. I sighed, closing my eyes and leaning back against the wall of the stadium. I felt the same claws of the redheaded devil herself rub my arm in attempted comfort, only causing me to stiffen more. She was obviously unaware that my discomfort was her doing.

I quickly stepped forward and out of her grip wordlessly, grabbing the door knob and pulling the door open and storming down the hall, cigarette and devil left behind. Not without hearing her annoyance in the sound of a loud huff before the door slammed shut. It seemed that I could never catch a break around here.

I guess this was the price to pay for living the dream. I knew it would come with annoyances such as these, but I never knew how much of a toll it would take on me.

I do believe though that sometime soon, throughout the devils that take my cigarettes, there will be an angel to come in my life and take my breath away faster than a cigarette ever could.

(A/N this was a short first chapter, but it was just a little look into Austin's life and his thoughts. Lemme know what you think! <3)