The fangirl assistant (Not finished)

Chapter 12 - Moodswings

"The rain has its oceans and the sun has its moon,

everything needs a reason for falling and I have you,

but if we don't end up together, at least our paths have crossed."

I'm sitting on this lumpy hotel couch again, the one with the cigarette burns from before we even got here. I've been waiting for hours, scrolling through the same Instagram feed, pretending the white noise of the TV is company. I wish it was enough to drown out the sounds of the after-party downstairs—laughter, clinking glasses, the low hum of bass that I can feel more than hear. It's funny how I used to think waiting was just a small price to pay for being with him. Now, it feels like it's become the price of admission to a life I'm not entirely sure I signed up for. The clock ticks lazily on the wall, mocking me with its steady, unhurried rhythm. I know he'll come back eventually, but "eventually" seems to stretch into infinity.

I sigh and put down the pencil between the pages I had just written on, writing has been my favorite hobby ever since I have to spend so much time alone, it also helps me cope with my own feelings and troubles. I never thought of myself as a sad or melancholic person, maybe that was because I hadn't lived enough, I did not love anyone or anything enough, and as people say nothing is forever and nothing stays the same, maybe right now I care too much but one day I'll stop feeling this way.

For now, feeling a lot is good, positive and negative feelings, the voices in my head don't stop but it gives me a lot of material to get myself a new job, when I applied for this opportunity, I didn't think too much about what I wanted to promote myself as, I knew I didn't want to be an assistant forever but I didn't know I wanted to write, I didn't know I could write and someone would read it and like it, which I'm grateful for.

I try to focus on something else, anything else—like the book I brought along or the tiny, unreadable notes I scribbled in my journal. But my mind keeps drifting back to the image of him, out there, charming girls who probably don't even know his favorite color. The thought bites at me like a cold wind. He's always been that kind of person—vibrant and full of life, always at the center of everything. I remember when tour started and it was all new and exciting. I was the one he wanted to share all those wild moments with. But now, it's just me and these empty hotel rooms. It's like being part of a story where I'm always in the background, waiting for my cue.

Time had passed way too fast, suddenly we're halfway through the tour, everyone is living their best life and even though it's very draining I've been learning a lot. I started a journal which got Nelly's attention and quickly pushed me to start writing songs with her and The Boomerangs, they have been working on their new album and want some of the songs we've been working together on to be part of it, so you could say work wise I am actually doing good, expanding my experience, credits and I am out of trouble with management at the moment, but relationship wise I do not know if this is how most work or how people actually react when they go through issues.

To be fair I had never dated anyone before Eddie, so if I don't know what dating a regular guy is like, let alone someone that is under the spotlight and lives such a rollercoaster kind of life. A rockstar. I wasn't sure of how my dynamic with him would be once we were on tour but it definitely wasn't like this in the back of my mind, management currently has me working nonstop backstage and once the concert is over the guys go to endless after-parties at the hottest club in town, where I'm obviously not allowed to go, which leaves me to enjoy my secret boyfriend as he struggles to stay alive with a hangover during busy mornings.

I tell myself it's okay to feel this way, that it's normal to be overwhelmed by this part of the life we chose together. I know he loves me. I know he's probably thinking of me when he's out there, even if it's just in the fleeting moments between shots of tequila and the roar of the crowd. But knowing that doesn't make the waiting any less lonely. Every text I send and every call I make seems to vanish into a void, swallowed up by the chaos of his world. And every time I hear the door unlock, my heart leaps—only to sink when I find it's just a roadie or a stranger from the hotel staff.