Fading (A Calum Hood Fan Fiction; Sequel to Pretending)

Chapter 26: Him

My hands gripped tightly on the steering wheel as I pull my car over the vacant spot on the parking lot the moment I finally got to the private club that the band rented for the entire night. There were shitloads of photographers and fans all over the front gates of the club, so I basically found another way to park at the very far side; at the back of the club which most of the people probably think that no one would want to park here because it seems very dark and uncool for their cars to be parked in here. I quickly opened the car door and hopped out, the weird combination of the chilly but hot wind of Sydney hitting straight to my face. I squinted my eyes as I rest my back on my car, checking the time on my phone. I was expected by everyone to arrive by eight in the evening, and the time basically informed me that I’m half an hour late but I didn't care. I decided to stay another half an hour outside the club, with my back pressed against my car, having the puff of smoke coming out of my mouth and my cigarette being my little company for a short amount of time of being entirely alone and free.

The puffy air of smoke started filling my lungs in, and started blocking off little rays of light coming from the club as I let it all out of my system. I never realized or even remember how I started doing this; this whole smoking while alone thing, but it just happened, all at once. Especially when stupid thoughts come running around my mind, most specifically about someone in particular, and I don’t like it when it happens. I know most of the fans would be upset if they found about this, about me starting to smoke and getting drunk almost every night, but I don’t know. I just feel like I don’t even give a shit about it anymore. About my image, my reputation, my name, everything. I’m starting to feel like it’s been gone since the day I started coming out of public, having screaming girls around me all the time as I perform, or even just walk around and doing nothing. I don’t even feel free as I thought I could be. I feel like I always have thousands of eyes and cameras watching and judging me all the time. I feel like when I’m out there, out there in the public being surrounded with cameras, having thousands of people watching me and my every move, it’s not me anymore. It’s who they wanted me to be, or what and who they think of me in their own way. I’m that Calum Hood, the bassist of the pop-punk band from Australia, the one who always seem to joke around and be carefree all the time. I am that person. In their eyes, in their minds, and probably even at the hearts of the fans who've been always there for me, for us, ever since the beginning of this journey. But sometimes, it’s always getting me think of something. Do they even think that I could only be just this normal person, this normal guy who just only wanted to live a normal life, but now losing all his chance because of the fate he had made for himself? Do they even think that this Calum Hood they love, could possibly be longing for something – or someone but he couldn't even do anything about it anymore because it has been taken away from him? And most probably, does anyone, even just one person out there, could possibly be thinking that I may be smiling and looking all happy and carefree all the time, but the truth is… I’m not? Because even I, myself, couldn't even decipher what I truly feel. Everything seems to be all fucked up now, and every single day I feel like I should just wake up and get ready and face the life that has been made for me. The life that I've always dreamed of, but never realized I wouldn't want to have. Because here I am, doing things for other people, and couldn't even fight for what I really want for myself.

I blew off the last set of smoke I could ever make from the drag of cigarette I have on my fingers before throwing and getting rid of it at the trash bin. I know I probably smell a lot like unlit cigarettes, but I didn’t care about since I’d be entering a club, and some people could be inside there, smoking too. Anyway, to get rid of stupid suspicions or questions, I sprayed on some cologne on my hands and all over my body before deciding to finally get inside the club, since my phone is already being blasted off by tons of messages from people who actually think they’re my “friends”. I made my way on the back door, since I don’t want to face tons of paparazzis on the front door and the very least thing I would want to happen right now is for people to spot me being here. I don’t want new articles again about me trying to knock some shit out of a photographer when the real thing that happened was that they were the ones who actually attacked me for not saying anything. I wonder why media could take this entire job of theirs. I mean, why the fuck would you want to invade someone’s privacy if they don’t even want to share it to anyone? I shrugged, shaking my head lightly for having that sudden thought invade my head. Well, business would be business, I suppose. I just hope they would find something proper for them, something proper for a person. I hope Glenn does too.