Dreamers [#Wattys2020]

11.

Rover.

"You were talking all night," Avery says as she hands me a cup of coffee.

Still trying to wake up, I pass my hands through my hair. "What was I saying?"

"Oh," she rolls her eyes as she shakes her head, "I don't know. It was more like mumbling."

"Weird," I say, "I don't think I've ever done that before."

I take smalls sips of my drink to avoid burning my entire mouth. The ceramic mug was only half full, because knowing what I'm like in the morning, there's a good chance I would probably spill the whole thing.

Being curious I ask something that was on my mind, "Who decides where we go?"

"Uh," Avery lets out a huge puff of air, "I'm assuming your record label."

"I kind of wish I had a say," I nonchalantly tell her.

"You should call them," she says as she pours herself a cup now, "maybe next time they'll let you make some of the decisions."

"Next time?" I carelessly say. 

"Won't you have a new album next year?" she questions me despite knowing the answer I'm about to give her.

"Yeah, you're right," I slouch in my seat. "We'll be back here soon enough."

"You say it like-" she starts but gets interrupted by her cellphone ringing. "I'll be right back."

I'm left alone to sit here with all my thoughts and not sure which one to go after first. You should start writing a new song?  Where are we going today? Who is the girl in your dreams?

"The girl..." I talk to myself.

"The who?" Avery walks back to me.

"It's nothing," I tell her, "It was just a fleeting thought."

"Anyways," she goes on, "Isla wanted to say hi. I told her you just woke up and that you would call her back later."

"Thanks," I say, "but make sure to remind me."

"Will do," she smiles.

"So, what's on the agenda?" I ask.

"Nothing out of the ordinary," she looks down at the schedule on her phone, "just an interview before the show and then the show, obviously."

I'm sitting in the green room, my few belongings are dispersed around me, yet all I can do right now is wait. Wait for my five-minute warning before the show starts, wait for someone to hand me a mic and shove me up on stage.

I have a team of people keeping on my feet. They make sure I'm awake and ready to do everything they want me to do on any given day, although sometimes I feel as if I'm just being pulled along.

Outside of all this, the me who isn't anybody special, I don't know who that person is. Being dragged into the spotlight at such a young age, I have no recollection of what it meant to be a kid. Hell, I can't even remember who my friends were when I was still in mainstream school. 

"Ready?" Avery pulls me out of my inner thoughts as she comes into the room.

"Yeah," I say getting up off the armchair I had splayed myself on.

I'm practically stepping on her heels as she leads me down the unfamiliar hallways.

"Your setlist is in its usual spot, same with water bottles," she pounds me with the same information I get at every single show. "Oh, and here's your earpiece."

I take the perfectly moulded plastic and place it in my right ear. I've travelled with this thing for years and I still don't know how it hasn't fallen apart yet.

As we finally get to the almost pitch-black backstage, I can hear the forever iconic countdown to my presence. The crowd joins in as the only light that appears is from the numbers flashing across the giant screen on the stage.

In my ear hear, "Five. Four. Three. Two. One."

And with that, I run right up to the middle of my elevated platform in front of thousands upon thousands of people in the crowd. Their ecstatic screams coming at me in waves, just like at the beach in my dreams, of course, they were much quieter.

I let the first few notes from the band ripple throughout the arena before ever singing a single word.

I admire them to the moon and back for their dedication, these fans have given me everything. Their love can never be repaid, but why me? What makes me so different? What if I was the boy next door, or the cashier at their favourite book store. I'm not special, and I'm certainly not their God. I shouldn't be anything to them. They don't really know me, even if they think the opposite. In the end, we're all just alone but stuck in a room together.

I'm halfway through my last song before the eventual encore and I can feel my body beginning to go weak. My energy was completely spent and I knew that soon enough my vocal cords wouldn't be able to support me.

With the band playing a solo, I make a run for the sidelines where Avery is standing beside the stage manager.

"No encore tonight," I tell her out of breath.

I made sure my mic wasn't within earshot.

"What do you mean?" she says.

I was essentially a body with no control over how much my arms were swinging with exhaustion. "I'm too tired."

"You're almost done," she tries to persuade me.

"I just," I try to plead my case my shoulders drooping, "I just can't do it tonight."

"Ok then," she smugly refuses to look me in the eye, "wrap it up."

"Thanks," I tell her, even if she didn't want to hear it

As quickly as I can, I return to the stage and do my best to make the last few verses as lively as possible.

And as soon as the lights plunge me into darkness, I don't hesitate to make a straight line towards the tour bus.

My mattress is firm as usual and not the best for anyone's back, but I just don't care. All I want to do is nothing, yet I know that Avery storming into the bus is nothing but good.

"What is wrong with you?!" she argues at my decision.

"I'm tired," I repeat my words from earlier.

"What are you talking about?" she questions, her hands on her hips. "You've never not done an encore before."

"Please," I say, "I just need to sleep."

"Whatever," she flails her arms in the air giving up.

She finally walks away to leave me alone and I am done with everything.