This Is My Version; A Conor Maynard Fanfiction

Chapter 3

Conor's POV

I roll over in bed, passing my hands over my face hoping it'd wake me up a bit.

It's still dark outside, the sun just about beginning to make an appearance in the horizon as I clamber out of bed to get in the shower.

I press the home button to my phone, realising I'd forgotten to put it on charge last night, the fifteen percent of battery left symbolising quite how I was currently feeling.

There was no point anymore, it really didn't matter if I slept or not, I was still just as exhausted in the morning anyway.

Sighing I notice the black lacy bra that had been left discarded on my floor, the only evidence to what had gone down only a few hours earlier.

Ashamed? No, not at all.

I shake my pounding head, stumbling over to the ensuite in the dimly lit room, trying my best not to trip over anything that had been spread out across the floor the past months since we moved.

The water hitting my body is just that little bit too hot but I simply can't be bothered with turning the temperature down, instead letting it burn my skin until it's left reddened and sore.

I'm crying, the tears falling down my cheeks and mixing with the soapy water that kept flowing off my body. I don't know why it's happening but all I can do is stand in silence, sobbing as I wish the water could wash the whole of me away.

It scares me how lost I feel, how I can't remember how it feels to be happy.

One year and four months I've been unhappy, living in a hell created by none other than myself.

How I'm still here is a miracle to be honest.

The man that greets me in the mirror as I step out of the shower isn't me and it scares me. Bloodshot eyes with dark circles underneath them, an unshaved face and a skin colour that was more grey than tanned despite it being the middle of summer.

I pull on the dressing gown I'd come to live in lately, using the towel to quickly dry my hair.

Usually I would've used a hairdryer but seeing it's four in the morning and the rest of the flat is asleep I think skipping that is the best option, it's not like I care anyway.

I'm already an hour late as I pull on a pair of jeans, noticing that they have gotten looser in the waist. Yeah, weight loss was another thing that had started due to me not eating properly. I'm just not hungry anymore.

My whole body is starting to give up on me and I'm not even complaining about it.

Because why would it matter. People don't care about me anymore, my fans one after another turning their back on me each time I tell them that an album isn't coming any time soon.

An album in which I already know won't come out.

I push my hand through my hair in frustration, pocketing my phone as I jog downstairs.

And just like every morning I check the fridge only to realise I'm not hungry, a procedure I'd kept up for the last sixteen months.

I'm far from who I aspired to be when I started my career. But I don't even care anymore, no-one really cares anymore.

There's a reason I haven't been on tour since 2012, there's a reason I went back to releasing covers and there's definitely a reason to why I keep acting as if everything is fine when it clearly isn't.

Going through a breakup is hard yet going through a breakup online is even harder, especially doing it while you're trying to promote two new singles you already know won't be selling.

People like being nosey, they like to see others fail and that's why I think reporters like to ask questions about relationships.

It was almost as if you could see the smiles on their faces when I told them it'd ended. Almost as if they cheered, counting the views they'd get from the title of the video.

And all I could do was smile back, act happy as if it was the best thing to ever happen to me.

Because everyone loves to be single right?

All I could do was go with the flow. Pretend that everything was alright and that I had everything under control.

Or I might actually lose my job, the job I'd dreamed about since I was sixteen years old.

If you fall, you stand back up and try again

But how many times would you have to fall before it was enough?

To me it felt as though I never got up from the ground before something else pushed me back down again. There was no me left, just the shell of who I used to be.

I hate the person I've become, I hate my fame and most of all do I hate myself.

It's not even six in the morning and I'm already having dark thoughts. But then those thoughts never really went away, they are always there, lurking in the back of my mind. 

You have to move on

I'd heard those words probably a million times by now and yet I'm still here, crying myself to sleep each and every night.

It'd started to become weird not to feel down and while some would think of that as scary I simply ignore it, putting one foot in front of the other as I continue through life.

Because you keep going, you keep fighting.

I've never been someone to give up, always pushing myself to go further, to grow yet I feel as though this might be just as far as I'm able to actually go.

I'm just done with it, done with not knowing, done with being unhappy, done with being surrounded by a dark cloud that never left room for any sunshine.

I probably, most likely won't even be missed, people already having moved on onto bigger and better things that I couldn't provide to them.

The most commonly asked question I get from fans is why I'm not active on social media. Why I don't share anything anymore. Why I've suddenly gone quiet after releasing two single in two months.

And how I wish I could tell them that. How I wish I had an answer to that. But the fact is, I don't. I simply don't know why I am the way I am.

I push my feet into a pair of shoes, not bothering with tying the laces, I'm too tired to bend down and do it anyway.

And then I leave the comfort of the apartment, the apartment that held nothing but sad memories, venturing out into a sleeping London to just like every other day go and sit in a studio to make managers and fans a bit more hopeful when it came to Conor Maynard's future.