Sometimes, I wonder if I'd be better off alone.
Away from the people who've become the center of my world.
Away from this band.
Some days, all I want to do is hide in my room, curl up under my sheets, and pretend I don't exist.
Sometimes, all I feel like doing is crying.
However, other times, I get these weird phases or 'episodes' of inspiration. I can stay up all night songwriting, partying, or playing my music as if I've been injected with some sort of creativity steroid. Sometimes I can go strong for a week or two, and feel like nothing could ever bring me down.
It feels like heaven. Bliss. Like I'm unstoppable, even if just for a little while.
But then I crash.
I crash, and go back under the sheets.
With the TV playing that same damn movie on repeat. Over and over.
I can't help but pace around, checking my phone, checking my reflection...
Checking behind my curtains.
Some days, I wonder if I'll ever escape my past.
Escape this life.
Escape the "boy-band dream" everyone thinks I'm living.
Escape my relationship.
Escape my country.
Escape my home.
Escape that alien in the window.
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The year was 2000. Two friends in Essex, Matt Willis and James Bourne, had created a band they called "Busted".
Not long after, they held auditions for a third member - the missing piece. But even then, the band didn't feel complete. Not until they realised they needed one more.
Charlie Simpson and Tom Fletcher were successfully chosen to join the band.
With Tom, James and Charlie each playing guitar and various other instruments-and Matt on bass-the band was finally complete.
In 2002, they signed with Universal. Their debut single reached number three on the UK charts. From that point on, Busted was a runaway success: they had fame, fortune, and status. All that a group of teenage boys could dream of.
They worked, and worked.
They worked their asses off.
Especially Tom and James, who poured their whole soul into songwriting for the band.
'Busted' was a runway success.
.
.
.
It's now Christmas, 2004.
The band was taking a break for the holidays-time to spend with family, away from screaming fans and tour buses.
Some of the boys might have seen picture-perfect families. Others, the kind held together by strained smiles and forced laughter.
But for the boys, it was still a break. A time where they could unwind and act like any other young adults.
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.
.
Up a bit further north than Essex, in a town called Bolton, Danny Jones sat around his living room with his mother, father, and older sister.
Laughs filled the room as all four sat with glasses of buck's fizz in their hands. It wasn't a very eventful house, but the family didn't really get to spend much time together often, so it was nice. Eighteen-year-old Danny worked at a local pub, and also played for his local football team. He was a talented young man, with a love for sports, socialising and music. Danny had loved music ever since he was a child, but never really had the motivation to carry on with it as a career. It had been a year or two since Danny last went out busking, with most of his time now being spent either working, drinking with his mates or practicing the sport he loved.
As Danny sat, sipping away at his drink and letting the laughter from his house ring through his ears, all he could focus on was how hard his father was gripping onto that glass of booze.
.
.
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Back in Essex, a boy with a spiky mullet was stood outside of a hotel on the phone with his mother.
"Yes, Mum. I'm sorry. I don't think I can make it to Christmas dinner, there's no buses. Yes, I can... Okay. Fine. You can pick me up. Love you too."
Harry Judd hung up the phone and sighed, glancing over at his friends.
His mum was right-he shouldn't spend all of Christmas Day with a bunch of rich, snobby boarding school kids.
Truthfully, Harry never felt like he fit in.
His group of friends made him feel... weird. Like he was meant for something else.
And yet, here he was, stood in a Ralph Lauren polo shirt and baggy jeans like some sort of David Beckham wannabe.
Harry had played the drums all throughout his time in boarding school, but it had never gotten him anywhere. A skill he had perfected, and yet never used. Like a loose puzzle piece that had no puzzle to connect it to.
Harry muttered a half-hearted goodbye to his friends and stepped out toward the bus stop, waiting for his mum to pick him up.
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In another house, the only sound that could be heard was sobbing.
The sobs of a boy who'd only turned seventeen a few weeks ago.
The sobs of a boy on Christmas Day.
Every year was the same.
Every Christmas was the same - I mean come on, how can you truly enjoy Christmas with half a family?
Dougie Poynter buried his head into his pillow as he continued to quietly choke on his own tears. It was 10am, and yet no one in the house had dared to get up yet.
There were no more overflowing stockings to jump out of bed for. No more half eaten mince pies that Santa had nibbled on in the night to giggle at. No more presents under the trees to shake and rattle.
No more family photos.
This was it.
Merry Christmas.
YOU ARE READING
Beautiful Boys Are The Loneliest
Fanfiction-in 2000, james bourne and matt willis formed a band called busted. eventually, two turned into four, with two other members joining: charlie simpson and tom fletcher. the four became incredibly successful in the pop-punk genre, getting multiple num...
