Life Behind the Curtains: $old. (Shawn Mendes Fanfic)

Chapter 9

This chapter took a long time, but hope you enjoy ❤

Shawn P.O.V.

I was dumb to have forgotten to upgrade the alarm system when I first moved into this penthouse.

In my last apartment, I had bodyguards and security to make sure I was safe. I just assumed that they would be here as well, and got so busy I completely forgot about it.

This must be my father's doing.

I look over at Amber, who is surfing through her phone. I pulled out my phone and call my father.

"Hello Son, how are things?" He asks, and I can practically hear him smirking on the other line.

"Stop acting like you don't know what's going on. I know that you are the reason I don't have bodyguards or good security! You said you would take care of it Dad," I shout, anger laced in my voice. 

"Well, I do say a lot of things. Come on son, I'm a busy man. You should know what that feels like," He spoke, merely amused by this whole situation.

"Busy my ass! You always fucking push me too hard to get what you want. Listening to you has made me nothing but unhappy. I already gave you the money for the extra security!! Where the fuck did it go? All you want is money Dad! Can't you see I'm drowning in it?!" My voice turned from angry to sad in a split second.

I heard rustling on the line. "Cash in the money we talked about by Sunday. I'll get the security only if you do," and he cuts off the line before I get another word in.

I storm out of the living room, throwing my phone on my bed as I rummage through the drawer. My fingers curl around the two items and I grab them, walking to the patio. 

I ignore Amber.

I stare at the city as I light a cigarette, pressing the roll against the tip of my lips, blowing out the smoke.

I close my eyes and just breathe. Somehow, smoking always relaxes me. Similar to alcohol.

Sure it smells bad, but it feels good. The warm smoke enters my lungs, and coolness sweeps my body. It feels like my lungs were enveloped in a warm blanket. The cozy feeling of the rough paper between my knuckles was comforting.

Like I wasn't completely lost.

"You smoke?" I had only just noticed her presence among me. Amber scrunches her nose in disgust, and I merely shrug, "Only when I need to."

She stands next to me, wanting to talk. I blow out the smoke and let the wind carry it away. 

Amber coughs, "C-could you put that out." I roll my eyes. 

It's the only thing keeping me sane right now. 

"No," I answer curtly, inhaling more of the cigarette.

I'm not addicted. In my life, I've probably had a total of around 6 cigarettes. I was addicted to alcohol though, and that was fame's doing.

"Is everything alright with your father? I heard you two talking," she spoke timidly, turning her face away when I inhaled the smoke.

"Clearly it's not," I spoke, annoyed. What is the point of stating the obvious?

She coughed as I blew the smoke in her face on accident. I decided that I'd had enough, and threw the cigarette on the ground crushing it with my foot and kicking it out onto the streets below me.

"Finally," she muttered, loud enough for me to hear her. I ignored it."Why are you here?" I ask, leaning against the glass frame that was preventing me from falling.

Falling does sound like a good idea right now.

"I- I'm your wife. I wanted to know if you were okay. I'm supposed to check on you and stuff. Even the vows say so," she spoke. 

I felt a bitter taste in my mouth, the residue from the cigarette. Or maybe something else.

"The vows don't mean shit. It was fake. I don't even know you," I fight back, leaning a little more forward. 

I would like to know you. Maybe I could've if I hadn't been such an asshole.

A slight breeze hit the side of my face, and I turned my head towards it, closing my eyes. 

I think I'm going insane.

"I know. Let's go inside, it's cold," she spoke, a warm hand on my shoulder. "I'm going to stay out here a while," I decided spontaneously that I would stay out here.

This place helps clear out my thoughts. 

She left quietly. So quietly that I almost didn't notice her absence. I heard a slight creaking but didn't dare to look behind me. Amber came back with a stool.

"Here. Seems like you're going to be out here a while," she figures, telling me to sit down.

How can one be so kind to someone who only spewed rude behavior to them? She confuses me. I sit down, not uttering a word.

Not even a thank you.

Father loved me as a child. He was so comforting, I remember running into his arms as a little toddler when he would come home, and I would tell him anything and everything.

When I got famous, it was like something clicked in his head. He turned cold, so quickly. Like the flip of a switch, from light to darkness.

In the last 2 years, I don't even remember him smiling once. The money, the power, it got to him. 

Mom was always so worried about him. She was innocent and softhearted. Of course, as I got more famous, so did his name. He was invited to more parties, met higher people. It got into his head.

Maybe it has gotten into mine too.. Maybe it's too late for me to get out. This, this lifestyle- I'm not talking about the lavish hotels and the singing on stage and the thousands of fans- God no, I love that. I'm talking about sleeping around, the constant drinking- until I became an alcoholic- the weed, the smoking.

It's bad. I'm killing myself, slowly. At least no one will be hurt while I do so. I feel like I'm rotting away, like a spoilt piece of fruit.

Like I said, there's probably no way out now.