Ghost of You || L.H.

10.

"Oooooh boys!"

God, her voice is so annoying. It always has been. Her voice is high pitched and nasally, kind of like a more annoying Fran Drescher. If Fran Drescher was an anorexic bitch who kept trying to jump your bones, that is.

I'd probably actually fuck Fran Drescher.

"Did you miss me?" Allison squeals as she slinks into the room behind Crystal and Mike. Her hair is practically white and her cheeks are hallowed in slightly, the contour only adding to the effect.

How the fuck does she think she actually looks good?

"No," I groan, rolling my eyes when Crystal and Mike both glare at me. Allison isn't even phased, she just slinks over to Ashton and sits her bony ass right in his lap.

I watch him wince a little bit he makes no move to detach her when she wraps her thin arms around his shoulders and leans into him. I'm pretty sure her shoulder blade is going to break through her skin from that angle.

"How've you been?" Crystal asks, putting a hand on my arm gently.

Did Michael tell her? Should I care if he did? Does the world already know? Surely after my meltdown a week ago, rumors have to be circling. What do people think I was crying about? Do they think it was just the emotions from the song? Or something more?

"Alright," I say, shrugging. I decide to play it off like nothing's been going on with me. I don't care if Crystal knows, but I sure as fucking shit don't want Allison go have even the slightest of ideas.

"Why were you crying on stage last week?" Allison sneers, laughing as she runs her knobby fingers through Ashton's hair. I can tell he's uncomfortable.

"Go fuck yourself," I snap at her. She rolls her eyes and I see her jaw tense. Either that or she's swallowing spit. She's so hallow it's hard to tell the difference sometimes.

"You two," Michael says, raising his voice. "Play nice."

She sticks her tongue out at him and I roll my eyes before walking into my bedroom. We were all hanging out in my hotel suite, which I was fine with until bitch face showed up. Now I'd rather them all be gone. But I'm not gonna say that so I'll just hide myself in my room.

We'll be in San Fransisco for the next three days, so this hotel is my temporary home until we go to Los Angelas. The room is nice enough, my bedroom is separate from the living and dining space. My room even has an on-suite bathroom next to a walk in closet. Who even needs a walk-in closet in a hotel?

Ridiculously rich people, that's who.

Don't get me wrong, I love singing and touring and all that good shit. I love spending time with my best mates and seeing the world with them. I love meeting fans and seeing just how we have changed some of these girls' lives. I love it all so much and I definitely would not trade it for a nine-to-five job. Not a fat fucking chance.

But I didn't need walk in closets and lush parties and bubbly.

It was kind of fun when I first got a taste of fame, but now, six, nearly seven, years later, I just don't need it all. I've bought my mum a house, I've found my brothers some pretty decent jobs where they won't hate their lives, I've donated a good chunk of my money to charity. I just don't need all of this.

I honestly just want to be a normal guy sometimes. I don't want to get mobbed every time I go out in public. I don't want to have to take photos with every single person who recognizes me on the street when I'm really just trying to go grab lunch for me and the boys. I don't want to have to be famous anymore. Not to this degree.