I'm Only Human (Justin Bieber Fanfic)

~ Prologue ~

“Stop.”

My eyes shot open and I immediately noticed Scooter standing in front of me.

“S-stop what?” I sobbed, my voice shaking slightly.

“I know you’re having negative thoughts right now, kid. You can’t enjoy life if all you’re thinking about is how much you hate the situation you’re in,” he explained, patting my shoulder reassuringly. “Don’t let them get to you.”

“-I’m not!” I snapped, smacking his hand away. Scooter’s face fell and he looked at me in shock.

“Why are you suddenly so angry?”

“Because I fucking hate my life, okay? That’s why,” I growled.

“No you don’t, Justin. Don’t say that.”

“I’m allowed to say what’s true, Scooter,” I mumbled.

“You don’t hate your life, you just hate paparazzi. I get that. It’s completely understandable. But think of your fans, what do you presume they think?”

At first, I didn’t answer him. A million thoughts ran through my head and, looking at Scooter straight in the eyes, I said the first thing that popped to my head.

“I’m beginning to think that maybe… Maybe it’s not worth it…” I said quietly.

“What’s not worth it?” he asked. I could already hear it in his voice that he knew exactly what I was talking about. He was just afraid he heard me correctly.

“The fame. The money. The girls. They’ll drive you crazy,” I answered, feeling as if I keep repeating myself whenever I say that. No wonder those words are somewhere in my song Yellow Raincoat.

“You know you don’t mean that,” Scooter said, rather strictly.

“Alright. Maybe not my fans because obviously they’re not the problem. But damn it, Scooter, I don’t want to deal with this anymore,” I sighed, collapsing on the nearest chair I could find.

“They’re just trying to bring you down, Justin. Don’t give them what they want!”

“But how long are they going to keep this up? I’m sick of it! My fans are sick of it also. Why can’t they all just stop?!” I yelled.

The room fell silent and the only thing I could hear was the clock that gave off constant ticking. Scooter was staring at me, his mouth shut as he was in deep thought about something.

“When are we leaving?” I said, a bit more calmly this time. Anything to change the subject.

“Tomorrow. Pack your bags, alright? Next stop is California and we’re giving you a little break there,” he spoke unusually quiet.