Renaissance

Chapter 1

"I don't care."

He watched each of their reactions. His less-than-pleasant manager, Victoria Eagles, looked like a bull giving off steam. His team of musicians, on the other hand, merely gave him withered looks, long used to his antagonism.

Amusing, he decided. Very amusing.

"We've noticed that about just about everything else, Greyson," Michael sighed.

"Greyson, you know this cannot and will not be accepted," Victoria differed in terms of her determination to set the singer straight. "You haven't done any publicity or music in months. You have duties and you can't just -"

He let out a loud, frustrated groan. "Can't you just shut up already?"

Stix passed him a very irritated look. "What is up with you, man?"

"What is up with me?" Greyson hissed in reply. "You make me sound like a bloody nutcase."

"Maybe you are!" Victoria snarled.

"At least I'm not a superficial wolf like you," he growled, turning to his manager and mirroring her venomous eye.

"I. Am. Your. Manager. Greyson!" She screamed, unable to hold back anymore. "I can't let things remain stagnant, and you can't talk to me like that -"

"Screw it," he growled back. "I told you, I don't give a damn."

Michael stepped forward between the two, laying a hand on both their shoulders. The others tried their best alongside him to keep the room from exploding. "Greyson, stop being such a bastard -"

"Oh, I'm a bastard alright," he snapped. "What about Victoria bloody Eagles? What about all you damn people!"

"Greyson!" Stix roared.

"I'll do what I want!" Greyson thundered. "You guys can screw off. As well as the rest of the damned industry!" He threw the many superfluous papers across the room as he shouted his words.

Michael, Stix and Dwayne surrounded him and held him back, preventing him from making any violent movements. Victoria, on the other hand, stood there, still fuming. One could see that her skin was red with anger. After a while, Greyson began to seemingly calm down, losing his fit of anger. Which was not to say that he wasn't still negativistic. The men let go and he shook them off, brushing the areas where they had held him.

He sighed. "Look, can you guys just leave?" He ran a hand over his face.

Victoria looked like she wasn't about to give up the fight, but Dwayne pressed a hand against her shouder, lightly pushing her away. Exasperated, like the rest of the team, she finally shot him a glare that told him that things weren't over, before storming out of the room. Everyone else slowly filed out.

Dwayne turned around hesitantly. "Greyson, if you -"

"Yes, Dwayne, I know," he replied flatly, cutting him off.

Dwayne shut the door behind him. And Greyson was all alone, again.

Maybe he was being an ass.

Who was he kidding? He knew what an ass he was being. He knew they had good intentions. But he simply couldn't bring himself to be bothered.

If there's anything you can talk to me? Anyone could say that. But you can't just tell anything to just anyone. For all you knew, those could be empty words.

They just didn't understand.

He drew the curtains of his room and flopped on his bed. From his apartment, he could barely hear the bustle of the city. And like all the time, it was soothing to be shut in his own room, by himself - he hated being disturbed. Right now, his definition of being disturbed was to simply not be allowed to mooch by himself. Gloomy, yes - but he didn't really mind.

He turned on his side and pulled his phone out. 10:52 PM. Relatively an early night, but he really didn't feel like doing anything. He never did anymore. He scrolled through the new messages on his phone - a short rant from Victoria, still more of the if-anything-you-can-always-come-to-me messages from his musicians, mundane messages from his mum. The messages had dwindled after some time - after his team had grown used to his off-handedness.

He closed his eyes, allowing his world to be cloaked in darkness. And that, to him, was a comfort - the feeling of absolutely nothing in the world to bother him; nothing positive or negative. Simply nothing.

A few months ago, he would always have put on some music when going to sleep - although he had always listened to music, whenever, wherever. He would have plugged his headphones in, allowing the music to consume his mind as he slowly drifted to sleep, waking up to an iPod with only 5% of battery left. But he didn't do that anymore.

Right now, he didn't feel like having anything to do with music.