The End Of May

Prolouge

The lights went out, the screams and the cries of the crowd grew louder. Adrenaline rushed through his body, but he was too exhausted to even smile. Somebody of his crew pushed him off the stage, he knew he had to run before they could catch him outside of the building. While running he unbuttoned his dress shirt underneath his suit-jacket. A water-bottle found its way to his hands, then to his mouth. He was almost glad so many people were holding onto him; this way he wouldn't fall. His throat felt hoarse from all the singing. Sweat was running down his back, finally he made it out and then into the car with black-tinted windows. He fell back into the leather seats when the SUV abruptly drove off.

He sighed, sinking into the cool seats. If you asked him Harry would say it was a great day. Not because it necessarily was one, but because it was expected of him to say. Expected from managers, fans and last but not least himself. He had to be happy, not just positive. Harry had to be better, greater than the last time he performed. He couldn't disappoint and he couldn't frown. He had friends, he had fans, he had music and even money. Everything he dreamed about when he was still an average quirky kid. What was there not to be smiling about?

But even though he had all this, he couldn't bring himself to be genuinely happy. Was this really what a day should feel like? Always high when surrounded by people, everything crashing down when alone? It felt like he already lived through so much at this young age, could there be even more? He doubted it. He was unsatisfied with life and he was mad at himself for being so ungrateful with what he has been given. He was living the dream, but all he really wanted was to wake up.

He wanted to be able to have bad days, he wanted to be able to slack off at work sometimes and most importantly he wanted to have his own mind for once. But every move he made was watched over, so much gossip over so little things. Newspapers turning and twisting his words, making him into something he wasn't.

He ran his hands down his face and sighed again. Soon the dark trees outside transformed into white clouds and instead of driving he was flying. Days melted together like hot candy.

'Love. All the love.' Those words ran through his brain; stuck in his head. He was draining himself of it. He was giving so much of it; why didn't he receive any back?

His fans claimed to love him and sure, they did. But they weren't able to hold him when he was sobbing over a stupid romance movie or kiss his forehead when he did something great. There was no smell of coffee and the clutter of plates when he woke up in the morning, instead photographers were waiting outside his front door.

Nobody told him that the side-effects of being a worldwide superstar include so much loneliness and fakeness. No one informed him that 'star' was just another word for 'puppet'.

'All the fucking love.' Harry thought and hoped one day it would be true again.