This Is My Version; A Conor Maynard Fanfiction

Chapter 8

Conor's POV

It's weird how much of a difference a good night's sleep can do but I actually feel amazing this morning, well rested for the first time in months.

I turn to my back, only to spot a glass of water and a packet of Nurofen on my bedside table, my smile growing bigger as I notice the handwritten note that had been left as well.

You are not alone

- Olivia xxx

Three kisses, I haven't been left three kisses for as long as I can remember. Victoria always put one at the end of texts. And she was right, I'm not alone because I have her, the girl that had randomly entered my life at a time where I needed it the most.

I move the glass of water to my lips, quenching my thirst with something that isn't alcohol for the first time in weeks.

Yes, I know how bad that makes me seem but I really haven't gone a day without drinking since we broke up.

I've woken up in a miraculously good mood and I really can't blame anything other than the fact that I've slept for six hours, six whole hours.

Standing up I quickly pull on my standard black jeans and t-shirt, fully aware of the fact that I'd promised to film a video with Caspar today.

It's not that it's something I hate doing but it's sort of become a thing I try to avoid. Because people would notice how I'm suddenly not myself, the bags under my eyes being clear evidence of me not getting enough sleep.

And that's my worst fear, the world finding out about what's actually going on.

I take a look at myself in the mirror, putting some product in my hair to push it up into my signature quiff that I hadn't really paid much attention to lately.

The quiff that sort of had made me into who I am. It'd been a statement throughout my whole career, Conor Maynard with the quiff. Fucking hell, I'd even had it measured in an interview once, that's how important it used to be to me.

Even the sun is shining outside as I jog down the stairs, joining a small gathering of my so called friends in the living room.

"So he just came barging in, sobbing and stole her from me. I was shook"

Mikey is pacing up and down the room, clearly agitated by something that I can only assume is me.

"Not my fault your game sucks"

I smile, grabbing an apple from the kitchen counter and taking a bite before sinking down next to my brother in the sofa.

"Who is she anyway?"

Jack interrupted before Mikey could say something back.

"I don't know?" I lie, pulling my phone out of my pocket to scroll through Instagram.

I really can't be bothered with having this conversation right now.

"She is called Olivia, I could probably find her because I follow her friend on Instagram"

Mikey takes up his phone and that's when I decide to stand up, not really wanting the discussion to go on any longer.

"She isn't into you mate, just so you know"

I throw my half eaten apple in the bin, the good mood I'd woken up with quickly disappearing out the window.

"Conor"

Jack looked at me from where he was still sat on the sofa. Not sounding too impressed with what I'd just uttered. It'd become an ongoing joke in the group to bully Mikey for his incompetence when it came to talking to girls.

"What?! That's what she told me"

I don't really know why I'm starting this argument right now, only hours before we'd have to sit down in front of the camera together.

"Just fix your attitude or something"

His voice is lined with irritation and I don't really think his hangover state is helping in any of this.

"I'm sorry if this is bothering you but it's not my fault that my ex dumped me!"

I feel my chest tighten as I turn around to look at my brother, the guy that quite clearly was sick and tired of taking care of me by now.

Usually I'd feel bad but right in this moment all I'm feeling is hatred. I hate that he can't seem to understand why my life sucks to a point where I don't feel as if it's worth living anymore. I hate myself for not being able to move on, for not being able to find someone new. I hate that it's gotten to this point and I hate that it's affecting more than just myself.

"It's been a fucking year Conor! I understand that it fucked you up but you really need to stop pulling the sympathy card!"

The sympathy card, I'm shook. The last thing I want is his sympathy. I don't want people to feel bad for me because this is all my fault anyway. I am the reason to why she decided to leave, no-one but myself could be blamed for the fact that this is where I am right now and I'm fully aware of that.

"Do you think that's what I want?! Do you think I want people to feel bad for me?! Why does no-one fucking understand, just why?!"

I don't like screaming, I've never done. But right in this moment all I want to do is let it all out to get rid of the only growing amount of pain I've got inside me.

Because I'm starting to get tired of never being happy, never feeling like myself.

"You've literally lost your mind"

And he was right, I'd done that twelve months ago. It's what happens when someone breaks you down to a point where you don't even know who you are anymore. It's what a year of alcohol abuse does to you and it's what being stuck in the public eye does to you.

"I know, do you have anything else you want to say before I leave?"

I'm not okay, probably as far from okay as you can possibly be but how can I ever be okay when the people around me don't understand how fucked up my life really is. 

"Well then, tell Caspar I'm busy. I'll probably be at the studio when you get back"

I know I'll disappoint my closest friends by not turning up to filming but I already know that I physically won't be able to do it.

Because when I lie back down in bed I literally can't breathe, my heart racing in my chest as if it's about to give up on me any second.

Yet I really don't care if this is the last time I'll ever see the world, if this is when I die. Cause literally no-one is going to miss me if I leave.