Life behind the fame; A Conor Maynard fanfiction

Chapter 52

Conor's POV

"Red or yellow?"

I shift my eyes from my laptop screen and over to Alaska who's sat next to me in the hotel bed. 

"Yellow is nice"

She nods, grabbing the yellow nail-varnish bottle and placing the red one down on the bedside table. 

"Stop looking at me. You are going to put me off"

Her eyes meet mine quickly, a slight blush covering my cheeks as a reaction to her previous comment. Because I had in fact been watching her, her perfectly tanned and half-naked body being way too distracting for me to handle. She'd let her hair loose and her hazel coloured locks reached long down her bare back. Her shoulders relaxed as she bends her neck to focus on her nails, still, the small smirk on her lips made me smile. 

I wish I was on her standards, I wish I was as fit as her, as cool as her, yeah, sometimes I actually wish I was a male copy of her. 

"Remember when you painted my nails last year?"

Jack had mocked me for that during months, mainly because it'd stuck to my nails for way longer than I'd previously expected it to. I'd gone around with my toenails painted pink for almost six months before it disappeared.

"Yeah, that was a nice day"

It'd been one of the first days of spring and I remember the sun shining brightly and people just being so happy. 

"We should travel more often, don't you think?"

Travelling had always been something I loved doing, especially since Alaska entered my life and brought a new light into the darkness that always surrounded me. She'd made me realise things that I'd never even thought about before I met her, things that I'd forgot along the way of constant depression and she'd slowly but surely brought them back to me. Travelling was one of those things because I rarely travel outside work. Like I can't remember the last holiday I went on where I was there only to relax. 

"Yeah"

Suddenly she sounded off, as if I'd somehow had upset her and I just assume she probably isn't in the mood of talking whilst painting her nails. Instead, I go back to my laptop and the hundreds of emails that I'd ignored for the past week, every single one of them about a potential song or a random show. Emails filled with requests and wishes of things that people wanted me to do and not a single one where someone asked me how I'm doing or if I'm alright. 

I'm just so fucking tired of this lifestyle, of having to please people all the time and never get anything back from it. In the meantime, I feel as if I'm letting everybody down by not working my ass off as I used to. 

"I just can't do this anymore!"

I slam my laptop shut, startling Alaska. My chest feels tight, a large lump growing in the back of my throat as I think about all my responsibilities and the show coming up tonight. Everything is just too much for me to handle at the moment. 

"What's happened?"

She looks at me as I avoid her question, staring out through the large windows to my side. It's such a nice day outside but I still feel all grey inside. I'm stuck in a hole that I'm unable to climb out from, my hands not being able to grip the edge and I continuously slip back down each time I reach the top. 

"Conor?"

Her hand grabbing mine makes me look back over at her, our fingers now intertwined as she strokes her thumb across the skin on my dry hand. The contact with her skin is enough for me to return to reality, to realise that the deep, black hole only is something in my mind, an illusion that I've created during the past few years.