This Is My Version; A Conor Maynard Fanfiction

Chapter 5

Conor's POV

I've been sat in the same position for probably an hour now, scrolling through the same pictures over and over again. Pictures of us together that I really should be deleting but don't really want to since that actually would mark an end to us. An end to what used to be me.

Because I haven't been myself since it ended and the small amount of hope I have in finding myself again lies within the memories we made together, it lies within what we used to be.

I shake my head, closing the photo gallery app and opening up tinder. I use to brag about having completed it since I pretty much have slept with every single one of the girls that live in the 10k radius from our flat. I quite literally know all the bitches in this fucking city and it was simply getting harder to meet someone new.

But I guess that's what heartbreak does to you, or to me I should say because I know many people who haven't had to sleep around with girls to distract themselves from the pain.

There's a few new messages from girls asking if it's the real me, an instant turn off if you ask me. Just a quick tip of you ever want to end up in bed with someone who is so what well known; don't act as if you know everything about them and specifically don't ask if it's the real person.

And there she was. I tap my way to her profile. The brunette that had been in my bed less than 24 hours ago appearing on my screen.

She was even better looking in real life, or at least that's what I am able to remember considering I'd had quite a lot to drink.

The fact that she'd agreed to come over baffled me, cause she didn't seem like all the other girls that I usually fucked around with.

She seemed innocent.

Who are you Oliva, 23?

Luckily for me I'd get a quick answer to that question seeing she'd made it easy and had her Instagram linked at the bottom.

Part-time model part-time stripper 😝

A model huh? I could definitely see that though. She had all the features, the toned body. The eyes, the eyes that even had me hooked as I scrolled through her photos.

She seems like any other girl, pursuing a career she enjoys, has a couple of close friends, likes to go out and has traveled around Asia after finishing with uni.

But something told me she was different, something that was connected with the fact that she'd come over to my flat without any hesitation whatsoever and it confused me.

Why had Olivia Thompson come over to sleep with me?

I continue to scroll as though I hope that it'd give me an answer to the question even though I already now I won't be finding any.

"Yeah yeah, I'll ask him. Yeah, that's alright- see you, bye"

Jack dropped his bag down on the floor in the hallway after he's hung up the phone, the look on his face telling me everything as he spotted me on the sofa.

"Back early?"

I nod, leaning back in my seat. It wasn't hard to finish early nowadays, I simply didn't have any work to get done.

"You really need to stop moping around, bro. Start to live life a bit"

He sank down next to me, checking his phone as he received a message from someone I don't recognise the name of.

"I'm not"

I know he's right, I've been moping around for almost a year now. Doing just enough to make it seems as though I'm fine from the outside. I even go to the studio to sit on my depressed arse for a few hours, recording songs that aren't mine to keep some eyes on me.

"You are. Just look at you. It's been a year, Conor, a fucking year, you honestly need to move on"

He wasn't lying and I hate that it's been a year, a year of feeling numb. A whole year since my life got turned upside down, a year since I lost myself.

"Stop telling me to move on"

I'm fully aware of the fact that I've put myself in this situation. But I really don't see a reason to why I should change it, or it's more that I don't know how to change it. I can't even remember how it feels to be happy so how would I ever be able to do anything close to moving on.

I also hate the term "moving on", like how the fuck is someone supposed to just forget about three years of their life, the hands down three best years of my life, that'll say.

I'd spent three years with this person, I told her my deepest secrets, things I haven't even told Jack or my parents. We talked about things I couldn't tell anyone else and now she just isn't here anymore.

And according to the society I'm supposed to just forget about that? Act as if it never happened? Pretend as though it wasn't meant to be? As if it's just life?

It's definitely an adjustment, but that's life, I suppose

Yeah, I said that, even joked about it. Because that's how I deal with it. You laugh at your own self pity. You tell everyone that you're fine with it even though you're as far from fine as you can possibly be.

"Do something with your life then"

It was clear that he had started to lose his patience and I really don't blame him. Who wouldn't have after having had to spend time with someone like me for twelve months in a row.

"I don't need your advice on what to do or not"

I know it's selfish of me but then, when have I not been selfish these past months. If anything should he be expecting it by now.

"Alright, I'll leave you to mope around then, but don't come and say I've not tried to help you"

As if telling me things I already know could be classed as help. It was almost enough to make me chuckle.

Some people just don't get mental illness and Jack is one of them. Even I used to be one of them back in the day before all of this happened. Oh how wrong I was.

I pick my phone back up from where it'd been left in my lap since Jack got back, finding myself back on the Instagram profile of Olivia Thompson.

Was it wrong to follow her? I let my thumb hover over the blue button for a while before deciding against it. It was over, and me following yet another model on Instagram would only start yet another "Conor's potential girlfriend" discussion all over my social media.

"Mikey asked if you wanted to come out tonight, by the way"

Jack had stopped in the doorway to the lounge, almost as if he'd remembered it in the last second.

"I know, he texted me"

I put on a false smile as I look up at him.

"And you haven't replied"

He sounded tired and I don't blame him. He'd sort of become my secretary, the person that make sure I still stay in contact with the people I probably should call friends.

Because being heartbroken made you isolated, or at least that's what's been happening to me. I'm just not in the mood to meet anyone right now and that's been the case for a year now.

"Correct"

I don't know why he was surprised to be honest. It has most likely been days since I texted someone back. I just can't be bothered anymore.

"You should come, get out of the house for a while, meet some people for once"

Oh how wrong he was, it almost scared me. The last thing I want is to meet other people, people that could potentially judge me. Because that's what everyone seems to do nowadays.

I used to be so secure in myself, no-one could really make me feel offended. But since this period of my life begun I've come to realise that I've always been insecure, I was just really good at hiding it behind a prestine looking relationship and a skyrocketing career.

The only thing was that the relationship had turned ugly only to end up in what was now nothingness and the career had crash-landed head first before it even reached its maximum potential.