𝐩𝐫𝐨𝐥𝐨𝐠𝐮𝐞

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𝐩𝐫𝐨𝐥𝐨𝐠𝐮𝐞─── ⋆༺𓆩☠︎︎𓆪༻⋆ ───

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𝐩𝐫𝐨𝐥𝐨𝐠𝐮𝐞
─── ⋆༺𓆩☠︎︎𓆪༻⋆ ───

It was all an act at first.

The partying. The women. Drugs, and alcohol.

"Going off the rails" so to speak.

A simple ruse for my upcoming album that year.

Then I'd gotten the brilliant idea to make it more than just good marketing, and turn it all into a reality. To truly live the life of a star.

Popping pills, snorting god knows what on private yachts and in club bathrooms. Smoking blunts and other "recreational" substances with other artists, maybe record a handful of songs, then get back to partying. Go out clubbing, a few pretty little percs, take home a girl or two (or five, like that night in Ibiza).

Waking the next day not knowing anything of the night before had became my new normal.

While the highs were high as fuck—the lows?

Were fucking low.

My famous trips overseas, for instance. Filled with "debauchery" and "wrong-doings" according to tabloids, who couldn't get enough of me. Anything I did, they ate right up, devoured like they'd been starved of any nutrients for weeks.

I can't tell you the first thing about any of those trips. I was high for a majority of the time. Pretty sure I either blocked it all out of my memory, or genuinely blacked out from all the shit I'd pumped into my system. Can't tell you the amount of women I fucked either.

I was so lost.

Lost within myself, as well as the world.

I'd also lost touch with the part of me that made me Derek: music.

Wasn't the first time I've been lost, though. Probably won't be the last either.

I'm known for that sort of thing. Self-sabotage, too. I'm extremely good at that. Can't seem keep anyone, or anything, remotely decent that comes into my life.

I thought I'd found myself again when I met Melody.

Not only did I think she was absolutely perfect, but she did everything with me. Clubbing, partying, drinking, snorting—you name it, we did it. Together.

I'd finally found my muse again.

She breathed life back into me until I realized that she was... just like me.

A toxic, self-absorbed, untrustworthy human being with narcissistic tendencies, and an unhealthy relationship with drugs. A mouthful, I know.

Even though our spark instantly dissipated once I accepted what she was to me I kept her around. She was good for my image, and I was... alright, for hers. She was fun too. If that counts for anything.

We were never really "official". We didn't adhere to any labels. The media simply called us as a couple, and we rolled with it.

Ignored the cheating scandals because we never really dated. Ignored the whole 'Mel falls in love with co-star' drama because, again, we weren't actually together. Ignored 'this' and 'that' because the media's so fucking nosey when it comes to anyone in the public eye and don't know what they're talking about majority of the time.

Melody and I only ever did two things together: drugs, and sex. Other than that, we had nothing in common. Absolutely nothing.

Everyone I've ever been with has either wanted me for the fame, the lifestyle, or the drugs.

Especially the drugs.

When I decided to get clean a few months ago, people I considered friends, up and left. Discarded me like trash because I refused to supply them, or myself anymore. No regard for my humanity. No 'congratulations!' or 'I'm so proud of you!'s (except for Jer; my one and only friend, which sounds pitiful now that I think about it).

One of those 'friends' was Melody.

Who left me to find another lesser man who was more than willing to contribute to her addiction, if it meant having an extremely successful actress on his arm.

No one has ever really wanted me for me.

No woman has bothered to look beyond the mask I wear. The façade, the role I've faithfully played for the public for years. I was what they wanted me to be. I'd morphed myself into someone unrecognizable to appease just about everyone who thought the "bad boy" image fit me better.

Until I met her.

My true muse.

I'd found myself in the midst of another transactional relationship with a woman out for revenge; dangerous in every sense of the word. Unlike any other woman I've ever met before.

She didn't suck up to me.

Or treat me differently because of my name, or social status.

Didn't see me as just another famous pretty face, another lifestyle to try on, or as a walking, talking bank account.

She saw me. Genuinely saw me, and understood.

She had the audacity to shatter the reinforced concrete walls I'd built within me, a barrier I'd used to keep someone like her out.

Someone who genuinely cares about me.

I admire the courage it'd taken her. I didn't exactly make things easy for her, that's for sure. I still don't.

Elara Stewart sauntered into my life, and promptly sent my world into a tailspin. Everything I thought I knew about myself, everything I believed defined me, unraveled before my very eyes.

So to say that I'm terrified is a bit of an understatement.

I've never had something like this before; a connection so profoundly real and enticing. So grounding, that soothes my very soul and yet so incredibly thrilling... refreshing.

I've never felt this way about anyone.

Or have been so enraptured by one singular woman that it tears me to shreds on the inside simply imagining a life without her in it.

Fuck, it's all I want.

She's all I want.

I just don't know how to not fuck it up.

Or how to convince myself that I deserve a selfless angel like Elara Stewart—,

when I'm the complete opposite.

𝐒𝐜𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐚𝐥𝐨𝐮𝐬 𝐑𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐧𝐠𝐞 ⭑ 18+Where stories live. Discover now