The fangirl assistant (Not finished)

Chapter 14 - Death By A Thousand Cuts

The backstage area was a chaotic swirl of energy as the band wrapped up their set. The thudding bass and raucous cheers still reverberated through the walls, but inside the dimly lit room, the noise faded to a dull hum. Edgar, drenched in sweat and adrenaline, stood by the mirror, adjusting his leather jacket. The mirror was smeared with fingerprints and the remnants of the show, reflecting his tired eyes and disheveled hair. How I love him.

I hovered near the door, clutching my notebook like a lifeline. My eyes darted nervously around the cluttered room—guitars strewn carelessly, empty water bottles, and crumpled setlists scattered across the floor. I took a deep breath, trying to steady my racing heart. "Edgar," I said, my voice trembling slightly. "We need to talk." He didn't look up from his reflection. "Can it wait? I'm exhausted. The show's over, and I just want to—"

"No," I interrupted. "It can't wait. This isn't something I can just put off." I stepped closer, my fingers nervously running over the edge of my notebook. "I've been thinking a lot lately... about us." Finally, Edgar turned to face me, his expression guarded and weary. "About us? What about us?"

I hesitated, searching for the right words. "I've been trying so hard to support you, to fit my new job as a songwriter into your world. But every time I think I'm getting close to you, it feels like we're miles apart." Edgar frowned, confusion etching his features. "We're always together. You're the one writing the songs, helping with the lyrics for the upcoming album. What more do you want from me?"

"It's not about what I want," I said, shaking my head. "It's about what's happening. I thought if I gave up the opportunity to work with other artists you'd be happier, to have me here with you and the guys, it would make us stronger. But I've realized that all it's done is push us further apart." Edgar's eyes widened, a mixture of hurt and disbelief clouding his gaze. "What are you saying?" I took a step closer, my resolve hardening. "I'm saying that I need to focus on my own music, on finding my own voice. And I think you need to focus on your career without feeling like you owe me fidelity."

The anger in Edgar's eyes flared. "So, what, you're just gonna walk away? After everything? We said we'd go public once tour finished, it's only a couple of more weeks left." My calm demeanor didn't waver. "I'm not walking away from everything. I'm walking away from being your assistant, your songwriter, your everything side piece, because I can't keep pretending that this is working. I want to be more than just a footnote in your life. I don't even feel like your girlfriend anymore."

Edgar's anger slowly gave way to a deep, pained resignation. "Gracie, I never meant to—"

"I know," I cut in gently. "But intentions don't change reality. We're not the same people we were when we met. We've changed. I've changed." Edgar let out a heavy sigh, his shoulders sagging. "I guess we have. I just thought... maybe we could make it work." I shook my head, my eyes brimming with unshed tears. "Sometimes, love isn't enough. It's about timing, and right now, this isn't our time. I need to go."

Edgar nodded slowly, his expression a mixture of resignation and sadness. "Yeah, I guess... I guess you're right." I paused at the door, my hand resting on the handle. I turned to him one last time, my voice soft but firm. "I wish you the best, Edgar. Really, I do." His voice was barely a whisper. "You too, Gracie. You too."

As I opened the door and stepped into the quiet hallway, the muffled sounds of the venue slowly faded away. I took a deep breath, feeling the weight of the moment settle around me. Behind me, the door clicked shut softly, leaving Edgar alone in the dimly lit room. I walked away, my footsteps echoing softly in the empty corridor, each step a reminder of the difficult choice I'd made.

...

Life without Gracie was a cacophony of noise and chaos, a stark contrast to the quiet moments of introspection he had once known. Edgar's world, once structured by rehearsals and songwriting, had devolved into a relentless series of parties, impulsive decisions, and fleeting encounters.