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Stories posted in this category are works of fiction. Names, places, characters, events, and incidents are created by the authors' imaginations or are used fictitiously. Any resemblances to actual persons (living or dead), organizations, companies, events, or locales are entirely coincidental. Note: While authors are asked to place warnings on their stories for some moderated content, everyone has different thresholds, and it is your responsibility as a reader to avoid stories or stop reading if something bothers you. 

This story contains sexual descriptions.

You can now find the story on Amazon and purchase the Kindle book or a paperback book at https://www.amazon.com/dp/B087WKT398/ref=cm_sw_em_r_mt_dp_U_LteREb9NTMCH4

U-N-I - 14. PART 3 - Chapter 14

Here's the first chapter to the third part of the story and it's written from Robbie's point of view, so that you can understand his change of behaviour. It takes place 2 years after chapter 13. (Please don't be mad at me, I know where I'm going with this lol) There are eight chapters in this third part. And I think the four last chapters will be Part 4.

Again, this story contains sexual descriptions.



We went on a world tour until Sept, 2016. We toured Europe, Australasia, South and North America. It was amazing. We truly had a blast! But it was a relentless round of gigs. A blur of gigs. To the point that we sometimes weren't sure in what city we were playing. It was over one hundred shows and it generated so much money and involved so many people who were on the road with us.

I’d always known, or sensed, that we had it in us to be massive, to crack America and to become one of the next great live acts. In the States, we played in venues such as Madison Square Garden in New York. In Europe, we played mainly stadiums. We headlined Glastonbury and other massive festivals. We played Wembley stadium. We played Croke Park in Dublin - which was the ultimate dream!

I still remember as though it was yesterday, staying up all night outside a shop in Dublin to get tickets for U2 concerts in Croke Park in 2005 and now we were playing there! How can you even get your head around that? It happened so fast. Our lives changed in what seemed like a heartbeat and now we were one of the most popular bands in the world.

Playing Glastonbury was so special. It was the highlight of U-N-I's life and a career-defining concert. The few minutes before stepping on stage were probably the worst of my life though, but once on stage, I felt so at ease and truly in my element. That'd always happen before gigs. I couldn't quite explain it, but headlining Glastonbury was so nerve-racking. It was a huge milestone in our career. Thankfully, it was a triumph. When tens of thousands of people started to sing along to entire songs, it was such a rush that we were almost lost for words amid the euphoria of the crowd. For me, all I could utter was, "wow, thanks". There were no words to describe the feeling, but it was so special. However special we'd imagined it to be, it was more. I couldn't believe we got to play Glastonbury when we’d turned twenty-five!

We had reached our wildest dreams. We had set ourselves what seemed like an unattainable target years ago, having ambition bigger than ourselves and honestly, back then, we were incredibly delusional to think that we could do it! But we had fucking done it! In what I could only describe as an amazing success story.

We enjoyed a mammoth commercial success with our first album. The media almost universally hailed our record as a masterpiece. Few bands could dream of reviews like the ones that were written about our work. Not to mention the awards we received at ceremonies, sitting around bands we used to listen to when we were at school. I sometimes couldn't believe this was our lives! Something we used to dream about all the time and it had actually happened. Fate had thrown us a whole bunch of sevens.

Sure, back when we were teenagers, we had a masterplan, the five of us, and we would have done anything to develop it. The priority was songwriting, followed by almost daily rehearsals, and then, our first gigs in small pubs and clubs. But we couldn't see much further than that. We just believed we had potential. But with the release of 'Yellow', everything changed and we became the band on the tips of everyone's tongues. There was just something about that song that made us so likeable and popular, but only Mark and I really knew what it was.

I knew he had it in him to be a great songwriter. It was all so easy to him. It was fascinating to me to watch him compose. His talent just radiated from him. Damn, even Elton John said 'Yellow' was a song that he wished he had written.

All of a sudden, everyone was singing it and buying our album and seven years later, we had become a multi-million selling band and we could play our songs in the biggest arenas and stadiums all over the world. We had tens of thousands of fans who sang frantically to our ever-growing set of classic songs. It was astonishing to us and we obviously were super caught up in how amazingly huge it all was.

And that was only the professional side of my life. My private life was just as good, if not better. Being with Mark was also something I used to fantasize about but never thought would happen. He was the boy of my dreams. He seriously was. I had always loved everything about him. I had always shared everything with him. Back when we were kids I remember how well we understood each other, how at ease we were together, how we couldn't spend a day without hanging out together. We were so close growing up that I kind of knew he would notice how I felt about him. I used to secretly wish that he might want to experiment a little and that I could maybe convince him to fool around with me like once or twice, but nothing more. And even that, I didn't think it would happen.

So having a relationship with him like the one we were having, no way in hell could I have predicted that.

It felt like I had it all. So why did I have to fuck it all up?

I had always found coming out something really difficult to do but I had never really struggled with my sexuality. I had never had any confusion in myself, never. I was like twelve when I felt confident that I was gay. But I just couldn't stop myself from fretting about the barracking and prejudice I might suffer, knowing that the homophobia in our public school could be pretty intense, and then there was the homophobia in the world in general.

Later, my father would always tell me before we came out publicly, "as long as you feel certain in yourself, because you need to be sure before you start telling people." But I had always been sure … and it felt like I had always been in love too.

I actually think the hardest coming out I ever had to do was coming out to Mark. And telling him I loved him. I didn't want to know what his response would be. As long as he didn't know, I could continue to fantasize and hope for something more to happen. I didn't want to hear those words come out of his mouth, "I like you as a friend but I'm straight" or "I love you, but not in that way." I was dreading that. I knew that's what he'd say but I just didn't want to hear it. So I just kept him in the dark because, as I wrote in our song 'Fix You' five years later, "I was too in love to let it show".

But then it began. That first kiss! Fireworks, actual fireworks. I just wasn't expecting it. It blew me away. The most amazing love story of my life, the only love story of my life, began with that first kiss. It really would be the only love story of my life. Back then, no matter what'd happen, I already knew for certain he was the love of my life. There wouldn't be another one like him. He was everything to me. My boyfriend, my lover, my soulmate, my partner, my bandmate, my brother, my best friend. We knew each other inside out. I would've done anything for him. I would've done anything to see him happy. That's all I'd ever wanted for him, to see him happy. To know that he was ok, that he was safe, that he wasn't hurting. If he was happy, then I was happy. And despite the harsh childhood he'd had, he was happy.

He always stayed positive no matter what, something I found more difficult to do. He always thought I was the stronger one out of the two of us, but I wasn't, he was. He was a lot stronger than me. Because he knew how to protect himself. He had learnt how to deal with sadness and rejection at a very early age and he was stronger because of it.

Just like me, he had insecurities and he worried about a lot of things too but at the same time, he was always optimistic and determined and didn't really let anything get to him. No matter the difficulties, he always found a way to overcome them. I think the way he was raised gave him the tools he needed to cope with fame. He didn't give a shit about what people said or thought. As long as we were successful, as long as we had fans and could achieve the goals we had set for ourselves, then all was fine. I loved that about him because he was able to improve my mood when I was feeling down and second-questioning myself. He was always there to make feel me stronger, to bring out the best in me – and he did that just by believing in me and by expecting things of me. He just had this capacity to make me feel special in a way that no one else could, despite the millions of fans.

Yeah, I had the career I had always wanted to have and I was with the guy I had always wanted to be with. Life was great, it was all good, right?... Supposedly.

When our world tour ended, we had already recorded many demos that hadn't made the cut for our third album which we knew we might use for the fourth one. While on tour we composed a lot. So when it was time to start recording again, we already had many ideas for songs and already knew what kind of album we wanted to make and the direction we wanted to take. It felt pretty easy.

We went back home and lived what resembled normal life again. And then we got back into the studio, on and off. We began working with a new well-known producer but we didn't focus on that and only that. We probably should have because we were feeling immense pressure to follow up our first three albums, which were now widely seen by most critics as classics.

Instead, we released a couple of songs, promoted them and played them live and the fame stuff got mad again. Literally overnight after we released those songs, everyone was after me again. At first, I thought I had mastered it and that I would be completely fine, but I was lying to myself and it all got too much - again.

Despite trying to keep my personal life out of the spotlight as much as possible, I knew it was inevitable that the media wouldn't be accommodating and I began to not enjoy it at all. I had reached such a level of fame that all the media attention I was getting was driving me crazy. It was all so scary and daunting sometimes that I got really upset. I just felt so vulnerable and all I wanted was to get away from the madness of it all. Be with Mark. Focus on writing a new album and not have to deal with the whole promotion again, just to become even more famous than I already was. Because I found it hard to take in everything that had happened. If I sat down and thought about it, it kind of freaked me out, so I just wanted to not think about it and just concentrate on the music.

Unlike other bands, we thoroughly enjoyed the recording process and the time spent in the studio creating new material and I wished we had focused on that and only that. Doing promotion and recording at the same time was so tiring. I felt like we didn't have time to do anything properly.

Plus, I was having a hard time coping with the vitriol that flew so freely around the music world. I worried a bit too much about the critics, we all did, and it was sometimes clear in our public behaviours that we were a bit tired of it all. I knew I was. Therefore, there were a few rumors of stress, inter-band arguments or possible splits, as if we would maybe implode, crushed by the weight of our own success.

Basically, after Mark and I came out, people loved us or people hated us. They seemed to take it personally that we were doing so well. It was hard to deal with and it caused a lot of self-doubt and negative feelings. I was getting bored of constantly being asked the same questions. As if being gay somehow invalidated our right to do rock music or to be a very successful rock band, or to crack America, which was happening without as much brutal hard work as we had been told there'd be, our duets with Bono and Rihanna attracting heavy radio play there. The radio stations just went mad for it and we didn't have to do anything to infiltrate America, which was now also under our spell. We won a couple of grammies and sold out venues without really having to lift a finger. We basically only did promotion there while touring so it wasn't much more work than the promotion in Europe.

Anyway, the music world really was an ocean of contradiction and weirdness and in my opinion, we had had no learning curve to really know how to deal with it and to get used to the pace of stuff. It had been a vertical gradient.

There wasn't really a big alarm bell in my head telling me that I'd had enough and that I needed to take a break from the band. I knew I needed time to recharge though and really focus on what actually mattered in my life. I knew it was Mark, my friends and my family, but the world was spinning so hard and fast around us. We just didn't have any time to focus on our happiness and on ourselves. We were literally from house to dressing room, from dressing room to stage, from stage to recording studio, from recording studio to TV studios, from TV studios to hotel, from hotel to plane… It was constant and there was no more time to live a normal life.

Happiness to me was just about going from our place to do an interview, play a gig, attend a charitable event … it was about spending some time at home with my parents, going on holidays… And then get back home again, hang out and play music with my mates, spend time with Mark, cook some food and watch a movie or something, talk about stuff, go to bed, cuddle, have sex, be a couple, and that was how I pictured happiness. Nothing extremely extravagant or rock n roll.

Unfortunately it was either we had lots of time off, like we’d had in the past when we were recording, and we could be happy. Or we worked loads and had no time to concentrate on our relationship. So we just had to wait for things to calm down, but this time, they just didn't. We had like no time, no time at all. It was always, always about being a band, about being Robbie Myers – the performer. I had no time to focus on what was important to me in my life and to just be myself for more than a few hours.

I've always seen myself as two different people. There was me, normal me, hang out with my mates, spend most of my free time with my boyfriend … and there was this other me, who had to juggle it all and be a rock star, an entertainer, loved, admired or criticised. It was becoming harder and harder to live this life, and sometimes I just wanted to stay home and not have to deal with it all.

And yet, this other side of me wanted to have it all. I kind of had become really competitive and I wanted us to get better and better and better. From my family, I had received a good education and enjoyed a pretty privileged upbringing but I understood the meaning of working hard to achieve your goals. I put pressure on myself to succeed and didn't want to give up, none of us did, no matter how hard it was sometimes. I wanted us to have the best album, to have a great career, to tour stadiums around the world, to be idolized as if I had something to prove. Because of my sexuality mostly. Although I was conscious that I would not continually have this ambition. I was not always going to maintain it and I was already starting to lose my fire. Jordan would always say, "enjoy it all we can during our twenties, and the moment we see it fading, right, time to have kids and settle down!" He was right. It was fun, a lot of fun, but there was a a lot more to life than just having fun and selling millions of records.

But at the time, all we could think about was to have the time of our lives, to sell millions of records and to achieve worldwide recognition. And I think we could be proud to say that we had. But that came with a lot of pressure and I knew I was going to go through some tough times. There was no stopping that from happening. Adjusting to success was not as straightforward as it might appear. It wasn't for me anyway.

I felt low during the promotion. I’d genuinely had enough. So I think I tried to make myself feel better in the worst way possible. I began to go out more than usual and I really started to let go. I didn't even know why I was doing it. It wasn't like me. But I suppose it was like my other me. I had become that guy full time and if I was honest with myself, I had fun being him, being that person, but I didn't know how to not be him anymore.

Mark could tell I was exhausted because of all the pressure I was under but he was as powerless as me to stop it. I had to deal with a lot more shit than the rest of them. They all knew that, but there was not much they could do about it. It was just the way things were. I had the biggest spotlight and I took most of the flak. Mark, too, to a certain extent, because our success inevitably brought about a relentless media interest in our private lives. Honestly, Damon and Dylan didn't feel that famous. They could still put their hats on after a gig and slip back into anonymity. Jordan and Mark could as well if they were going out alone. But I couldn't. I was recognized wherever I went and had a hard time being out in public. The name of the band was associated with my name.

Mark would always try to make me feel better about that. After all, that was what we had wanted all along, I couldn't complain about it now. And everything Mark said always made sense. Perfect sense. He was always calm and rational and kind, he was always considerate and I always felt better whenever he tried to put things into perspective. I knew I should have been listening to him more. I always had. But this time, the pressure was too strong.

I needed a bit of anonymity as well, to unplug myself from the selfie culture. I was losing my mind and I just needed to get back to normal life. I wasn't enjoying it, it wasn't real life to me. I needed to take a break so bad and I wasn't allowed to take it. I should have found a better way to deal with it, but I didn't. So I figured that if I was gonna have a nervous breakdown, I might as well do it right. The rock n roll way!

Consequently, my immediate response was to just go out and embrace the madness. I played hide and seek with the paparazzi and the fans. I went partying a lot with Jordan, sometimes Damon too, or just other friends in the business who were always out. Basically, there was always someone to call up to know where was the hot spot to hit up when we were in London or other big cities. I was very much aware that these people who called themselves my friends didn't give a shit about me and my wellbeing, as long as they were having a good time themselves. They just saw me as a big cash machine. Having money was such a weird thing. It changed people around me, even people I thought wouldn't change. But that was fine, I didn't care that much.

I was in the papers a bit too often but had gotten used to that. I often talked to paparazzi a bit buzzed, which was not the best idea, but I was known as a bit of a bad boy anyway and the gossip-hungry tabloids loved that. Despite the fact that we had come out, I would still get the occasional, "Are you gay, really?" I think people thought we just wanted to get attention drawn to the band or something. I guess we didn't fit the gay stereotype. Or "Where's your boyfriend then?" was the other often repeated question.

Indeed, Mark started to refuse to go partying with us because it was just constant and there were just other things he wanted to do. He would hang out with Rachel, play music with Dylan or go out and do things that were a bit quieter. He didn't like the fact that Jordan, Damon and I would always drink a bit too much or take soft drugs, sometimes even get high on ecstasy. We were rock stars after all, weren't we? It was all available to us so easily and we were having so much fun. We just wanted to enjoy ourselves while still keeping things under control.

Mark had tried E on a couple of occasions, which was enough for him. It had been amazing the first time, especially the heightened appreciation of music. The sex was incredible too. He thought that was like an interesting experience and one of the most pleasurable sensations ever, but he hadn't liked the fact that he'd felt horrible the next day. He felt like he had drained all his dopamine and was worried it'd never come back. Jordan, Damon and I had taken a pill a few more times and I had to admit I didn't like the comedowns either. Mark and Dylan would lecture us, saying that we were already hyped all the time, we didn't need drugs. They'd made us swear that we wouldn't try any harder drugs. We had always said that we didn't want to be that kind of band.

I knew I was guilty of partying too much. I knew Mark didn't really want that. I didn't even know why I was going out so much anyway when all he wanted to do was to stay in at the end of the day if we didn't have anything planned as a band. He had never really wanted to be a rockstar. He always said that he loved the music and he agreed that we had the best job in the world but he didn't want to stop living a normal life whenever we could. He didn't want to go out drinking and partying several nights a week. I guess he had seen the asshole who had pretended to be his father for twenty three years do that like practically every night of the week, and he was not going to go down that road. Or let me get down that road for that matter. He knew too well what the consequences were.

Jordan on the other hand, just like me, wanted to live it up. He never wanted to stay in. Jordan and I going out partying together was always a bad idea because it would always, and I mean always, end up with us doing something that we shouldn't have been doing. We were twenty seven, we were supposed to be mature enough to know when we were doing something stupid. But I guess we weren't that smart when we were drunk. Then again is anyone?

Whenever Mark did go out with us, I was thankful that he was there because I knew he would watch over us. When we went out partying together, he would always have enough before us. He'd stop us before things got too wild. He'd always warn me that I had to be very careful with drinking and going out. I was good at acting very confident but it was not my true personality. It took some effort on my part and drinks or drugs could just take all my insecurities away in an instant, which was awesome of course, I loved that. It made it so much easier to be who people wanted me to be.

Although he loved to party as well, Mark would never really go past his limits. I honestly didn't know how he managed to always stay in control of himself. He knew when to stop. I didn't. I would always go a bit too far. I would drink myself stupid and be really sad when I had no reason to be sad, just pondering over the fact that I was this huge star with no more control over my life. I think in a way, I was relying on him to tell me,"that's enough, let's just go home, go back to our room, it's late, time to leave," and I would always agree because I was not stupid, I knew he was right. He was always right anyway. He just wanted us to spend more quality time alone together.

I knew I wouldn't be able to maintain this lifestyle for long. I was cracking up. I wasn't even getting proper sleep. I hadn't gone to bed sober in weeks. Real fatigue was setting in and I was starting to suffer from voice exhaustion, which wasn't great considering we had to record an album.

I was burnt out.

I only felt better when Mark and I were alone, but we almost never were. He'd say something like ‘whose fault is that?’ and he was right. I was avoiding him. I didn't want him to see me sad or weak and I wouldn't admit that I needed help. I wouldn't let him help me. I was supposed to be the stronger one, right? Plus I didn't really think that I needed help. I wasn't crazy, I wasn't an alcoholic. I was just having a good time, but I was losing control.

Until then, Mark hadn't really cared that much about my partying. He just devoted more time than I did to working on the album and the tour and we were still able to spend some time alone together during the course of the day. We didn't need to spend every minute of our lives together. But maybe I just didn't want to admit to myself that he'd had enough of me going out all the time.

Tom, our manager, would always tell me, "watch yourself," or "don't go out too much," but I wouldn't listen. He couldn't really lock me up either so I was still free to do whatever I pleased. All of those things we had been warned about… when you get into the industry, people say,

"Be careful of this, be careful of that," I was doing all of them, shamelessly! Even though I fucking knew I shouldn't be. I just hoped that if I went too far, if I couldn't do all the things that we had to do during the day because I was too hungover or too tired or about to have a nervous breakdown, then maybe everything would stop.

I wish I had known how to make things work. How to be happy. How to be more positive. How to enjoy everything we were doing with the band like I used to enjoy it, but I couldn't. I got into a spiral of dark moments. I had too many toxic people around me who were bringing me down. I cared about social media a bit too much and all the shit that people had to say about everything we did, it being positive or negative.

I knew I should have been oblivious to stuff and not be susceptible and just concentrate on the people I loved around me, and working on songs, and just doing what we did best, which was to write music about our lives, our feelings and the world around us. I wish I had known what the key to happiness in our industry was. But damn, we were young and it was almost impossible to not go through some tough times.

It all started to go wrong when we spent a week in Amsterdam. We were going there to do a bit of promotion and to play a festival. As usual, we were the headlining act and everyone there made us feel like we were super important. We had a fabulous time but things got too wild.

Many artists were performing at the festival and staying at the same hotel and a couple of private parties had been organized in a club close to where we were all staying. The party we attented the night of our performance was just phenomenal! Seriously the best party ever but it got really mental and harder drugs entered the picture. There was weed, there was ecstasy, there was GHB, there was crystal meth, there was coke, there was everything, and everybody was high.

It was really no big deal to Jordan and me, and even Damon. Damon took an ecstasy pill because, as he'd say, he still cared about staying alive. But Jordan and I were a bit more self-destructive I guess and this time we didn't avoid going past our limits and we did a couple lines of coke.

I don't really remember feeling that different except that I was a bit more positive. I felt complete, like I was at the peak of all my potential. I was a bit more talkative and confident, more energetic and overstimulated, with no fear, no anxiety whatsoever. I knew Mark was a bit high too on softer stuff. I remember we had sex at some point during the night and then he left with Dylan because, again, he'd had enough. Jordan, Damon and me wanted to party as long as we could so they just left us together.

I honestly didn't think it was a big deal. But this time, for Mark, it was the last straw. He gave me a good lecture. He made a huge deal out of it on the next day and I hadn't really seen it coming.

I had crashed in some girl's room with Jordan. Actually the two of us had left the party at dawn. It was already bright daylight when we left. The whole night was a bit of a blur because we had been drinking too.

I woke to the sound of my phone buzzing. It was afternoon and Mark had called me several times.

"Jeez, finally! Where the hell are you? I've been looking all over for you!" he asked, he sounded worried.

"Dunno." I responded and I looked around me, "A hotel room, for sure." I answered, not really sure whose room I was in.

"Are you okay? Is Jord with you?"

"Yeah, just sleeping." I whispered casually, so he'd know there was no need to worry.

There was a moment of silence.

"Well wake the fuck up! And come back to our room, like right now!"

"Babe, you're screaming."

"Yeah, I am. I'm so fucking mad at you!"

I sat up and felt dizzy, numb and kind of overwhelmed with negative emotions and he wasn't helping,

"Uh, can't it wait until my head stops spinning? I have a furious hangover."

"About to get worse!" he said and hung up.

Okay, I was in trouble. He wouldn’t normally talk to me with that tone of voice.

I tried to fight my drowsiness, but as expected, the comedown was pretty hard and I felt like shit. I was a bit dehydrated, tired and depressed. I remembered thinking to myself,

‘'Ok, that's it, you've tried but you don't want to do that again!'’

It had just been a little high for what appeared to be a bad day of feeling drained and depressed. I reluctantly got out of bed and went to the bathroom. There were some Paracetamol tablets on the countertop, so I had one. I felt too slow and sluggish to have a shower but I forced myself to. The hot water made me feel a lot better but I quickly stepped out again after washing myself.

I got dressed and went back into the room.

"Everything okay, man?" Jordan asked me. He was lying on the bed next to the one I had slept on.

"Fuck, I feel like shit." I answered as I threw myself face down on the bed.

"Yeah, me too. I threw up like an hour ago," he moaned.

I half-laughed,

"It wasn't even that good, was it? Dunno, it was kinda disappointing."

"Yeah, not really worth it," he agreed. "It backfired pretty hard on me!"

I drifted off again for what seemed like a long time but was probably only just a few minutes. When I woke up again, I felt a bit re-energized. I picked up my phone that I had tossed on the bed earlier and checked my messages again. I looked at Jordan who was still awake.

"Where are we?"

"In her room," he said, pointing at the girl lying next to him.

I chuckled. She seemed to be still sleeping. I looked over at her and although she was lying on her stomach and had her back to us, I immediately recognized her hair. She had partied with us the whole night. She was Lauren from the girl group "Fifth Harmony".

"Oh my god!" I chuckled in a whisper. "You fucked her?"

He shrugged as he watched her sleep,

"I'm not sure, I might have."

"What am I doing here?" I exclaimed with a chuckle, "Please tell me you didn't make me do anything with her."

He laughed,

"I think I'd remember that!"

"I can hear you!" she said as she turned around on her back, revealing her naked breast,"Not really sleeping. And no, neither he nor you has shown me his dick," she said, pointing at Jordan and then at me, "Yet,… Not for lack of trying!"

Jordan looked at me with a slight smile, raising an eyebrow.

"I'm outta here!" I exclaimed as I sat up on the bed. "I gotta go back to my room and get yelled at anyway!" I sighed.

"Oh shit!" Jordan let out a deep sigh. "He's gonna kill us, isn't he? I'd come with you, but I really don't want to," he joked.

"Oh, don't think you're gonna get away with it either!"

He laughed,

"Right! I know Dylan's gonna give me shit too."

I got off the bed and headed to the door.

"Enjoy the lecture," he said to me, as I walked out of the room.

"Fuck off!" I answered.

"Byyyye!" Lauren said, almost giggling.

I smiled back at her as she obviously began to rub Jordan's dick under the covers. At least, one of us was going to get laid.

I joined Mark in our room, knowing he'd yell at me.

And indeed, he did. He really laid into me. Stuff like,

‘'What the fuck d'you think you were doing last night? You're not gonna do that again. You're not gonna start to fucking do that.'

I was starting to feel a bit better but I still felt too numb to respond so I just sat on the bed and let him go on and on until he started to run out of things to say.

"Mark, Mark, I'm on your side! Jord and I just wanted to try. Everybody was doing it. We're in Holland, it's the country of drugs!"

"So? I don't give a shit where we are. What kind of dumb excuse is that?" he said, getting mad again.

"Well, it was convincing when Jordan used it. Look he's the one who suggested it. Be mad at him!"

"So what if Jordan wanted to get high on coke? Don't you have any willpower? You could've said no... and stopped him from doing it!"

"Yeah, yeah, I should've."

He tutted and shook his head,

"You were fucking out of control last night."

"Why, what'd I do? I don't remember how I ended up in her room, but I swear I didn't fuck that girl from 'Fifth Harmony' with Jordan!" I said with a laugh.

"What?" he exclaimed, annoyed that I would find this funny.

"Never mind," I answered, now was not the time to make a joke.

"You wanted me to do a line too. Then you were all over me, fuck you'd probably have sucked my cock in front of everyone if I'd let you. Why d'you think I sucked your off in the frigging toilet? Maybe you don't remember that either?"

"No, I do remember that part."

"That's exactly why I didn't want you to do it. You're not in control of yourself. You know how it works. First it's alcohol, then it's weed, then it's E, and now it's coke? Next thing you know you're a fucking drug addict."

I rolled my eyes at that,

"Don't you think you're overreacting a little."

"Am I? Really? I know you. Now, tell me one thing. What do you think you're gonna do next time you go out and someone offers you a line of coke?"

I didn't answer and just started lying down on the bed.

"Well?" he pressured me to answer.

"I don't know!" I exclaimed, getting annoyed that he wasn't letting this go. "I won't do it apparently. Maybe I'll have a shot of heroin instead," I said.

"Don't you joke about that. I'm so pissed off at you!"

"No kidding!’’ I sighed, "Look, I get your point. I'm not stupid."

"Aren't you? 'Cause what you did last night was pretty damn stupid."

He glared at me, still not letting it go, and I think he was also trying to win the argument just for the sake of winning it.

"Fuck. I hate this. I fucking hate this!" he said and sat down on the edge of the bed, "You know how we have easy access to all sort of drugs. If you start doing them, even once, it's enough to make you wanna do them again. And Jordan too! What were you thinking?"

I sat up and moved closer to him. I rested my chin on his shoulder and said,

"Babe, everything's fine. We know it was a stupid thing to do. Don't worry," I gently placed my hand beneath his chin and pressed my lips against his cheek, "I'm only addicted to you," I said in a cheesy manner.

He turned his head a little more and I placed a kiss on his lips,

"Let's just stay in bed until we have to leave tomorrow."

He frowned,

"Are you still high? I don't wanna lie in bed all day. Fuck you."

I let out a sigh,

"Jeez, get over it!" I exclaimed and let my body fall onto the bed again, "Why are you making such a big deal?! It was nothing. I was just having a good time."

He was silent for a moment. Then he stood up and started venting his frustration again,

"Well, that's great! I'm happy for you. Keep doing that then. Enjoy yourself, and fuck up everything we've worked for. Keep doing that. But you might just end up having a good time all by yourself."

"Why are you saying that?" I asked, sitting back up, "Don't stay stuff like that. What's that supposed to mean?"

"You know very well what it means. It means that if you all that matters to you now is doing what you did last night - over and over again… I'm out!" he said with determination.

I remained quiet and studied the expression on his face for a moment,

"Don't say that, you don't even mean that."

"Watch me!"

I understood instantly that it was more than just a lecture and that I'd better take him more seriously. He wasn't letting it go this time. He wasn't just mad at me for doing coke, he was mad for everything else too – especially for letting him carry the pressure of releasing a good enough record on his shoulders.

"What are you doing?" I asked unsure, as I watched him put his jacket on.

He grabbed his suitcase that was already packed. I couldn't believe I was only noticing this now, he headed to the door,

"What does it look like I'm doing? I'm leaving."

"Our flight's tomorrow," I said.

"Mine's today," he responded dryly.

"Are you going home?" I asked, hoping that was where he wanted to go.

"No, Rob, I'm not going home. You're not the only one who needs a break. So do I. I've had enough of your bullshit!"

"What are you saying?" I asked, a bit perplexed.

"I"m saying that you need to get your shit together, and you can't do it with me around. Cause you and Jordan seem to think that you're just having fun, and that there's nothing wrong. But something's fucking wrong and it's time you admitted that. What happened last night is proof of that. You crossed a line you promised you wouldn't cross."

"It was…" I started saying, trying to find a way to justify myself, although I knew that whatever I'd say would just make things worse at that point.

He was just too exasperated with me.

"It was what? No big deal? Just cocaine?" he casually asked.

"No, but…" I quietly said.

He walked closer to me and looked at me straight in the eye,

"You wanna do that, you do it without me! Cause I'm not gonna do it with you," he headed toward the door again.

"Where're you going?" I asked before he reached the door.

"You don't need to know."

I was shocked. No words came out. I was too confused, not ready for this to happen.

Was he actually breaking up with me?

He wouldn't do that… would he?

"Mark, come on, don't do that. Don't leave. I know I went too far last night." I said, trying to make him see that I agreed with him, "But…"

But what?" he asked as he turned around again to face me.

"It was just this once…"

"How do you know that?" he asked, walking closer to me again.

"I'm not stupid. I don't wanna get into drugs."

"Keep going the way you are and you will. You fucking will! And you'll only realize it once it's too late! You need a good wake up call because in case you've forgotten again, we've got a record to release!"

"I know, come on, don't. I need you," I begged as I reached for his arm.

He didn't let me and snapped,

"You don't fucking need anyone! And right now, I don't need you either. You're not yourself. And there's nothing I can do to help you ‘cos you won't let me. You don't seem to think that you need any help. Maybe me leaving for a while will knock some sense into you."

Fully realizing, finally, that he was breaking up with me, and for how long I had no idea, I did my best to recover from my cocaine hangover. I thought about what I could say or do to make him stay, but there was no point. I knew him. He had made a decision to leave and he was not going back on it. I suddenly felt over emotional and almost wanted to cry.

"Don't you dare cry while I'm gone. You have to stop lying to yourself. I'm tired of watching you piss away your life and pretend everything's alright. Everything's not alright. You wouldn't be acting the way you are if it was."

He headed out the door and I watched him close it behind him, helpless to stop him from leaving. Once the initial shock had worn off, I came back to my senses. I couldn't let him go. I had to at least try to make him stay. I caught up with him and stopped him from getting into the elevator. He didn't put up a fight, he must have expected it.

I begged him not to leave. The cocaine comedown was making me so over emotional that I was about to cry real tears. I could tell it took everything he had not to look at me. I'm sure he knew he'd cave if he saw me cry.

"Stay. Please, just stay." I grasped his hand tight, "Whatever you want me to do, just say the words and I will. Just don't leave," I begged. "Where – where d'you wanna go? We have to be in Madrid on Monday!"

He was doing his best not to look at me in the eye and I saw him hesitate. I knew he didn't really want to leave. He was just mad because we still had so much work to do as far as the record was concerned.

"Mark, I swear to you, it won't happen again. I know we're behind schedule and I have to take things more seriously, I know that. And I will…"

He finally looked at me,

"Rob, I'd love to believe that, but we both know you're not gonna keep any promises for very long."

"I will. I promise you. You're right, I went too far last night. I'm totally with you on that one."

"Just last night?"

"No… but, I swear, I'm fine. I've got it under control."

He sighed and shook his head.

"Do you? God! I know you don't wanna admit that you're sick of it! ‘Cos who are we to complain, right? We're living the dream!" he exclaimed.

I just looked at him, unable to find something to say. He could see right through me. He knew what was going on in my head, maybe even better than I did.

"But you're not enjoying it anymore. And you haven't been enjoying it for a while now. You just struggle with it… You're lying to yourself if you really think that you've got it under control. You don't. You're not yourself and we don't know what to do anymore. ‘Cause you think we're just busting your balls for no reasons. Like everybody's after you. Even I am, right? You can't catch a break, can you? You really think we don't see what you're going through."

"It's not ..." I began saying, but couldn't really find something to say to contradict him, we both knew he was right, "I just need some time off I guess. To just have a normal life for a while," I admitted.

"Well, you can't have a normal life right now. Whatever we do, you're too famous to have a normal life. What you need is to learn how to deal with it better than you are at the moment. You're not happy right now. You're becoming self-destructive. How are we supposed to finish writing the album and go back on tour if you're feeling like this? You can't do it. It's just gonna get worse. You need to be around people who know how to help you."

I tried to reassure him as best as I could but I was indeed lying to myself,

"I don't need help, Mark, I'll be fine. I can handle it. I'm not a ticking time bomb. I can do it."

"High on drugs?" I asked. "Yeah, you can probably do that. But at what cost? I swear, I don't know what to do to help you enjoy it again without you feeling the need to get high. You know what? I'm too close to you. We all are. The help you need, none of us can give it to you."

I didn't want to talk anymore. I hesitantly tried to hug him against me. He didn't fight it this time, he embraced me and I could feel him relax. Maybe he wouldn't leave.

"Rob," he sighed as our hands began to grab at each other's backs.

I pulled back and pressed my lips against his cheek,

"I just need you," I whispered.

"No. You only think that you do," he said, his voice cracking, "but I'm not the one who can help you. And frankly, I wouldn't know how."

"Yes, you are." I said.

"No. I can't let you struggle with this and do nothing."

I didn't want to discuss the problems I was facing anymore. I just wanted to feel the same level of intimacy we had always had, afraid that it might not happen again in the near future. I used my hand to bring his mouth closer to mine. I began to kiss him. His lips were so warm to the touch, and he began to use his tongue in response to the way I was kissing him. I could immediately feel that he had given up on thinking. At that moment, I knew he wanted to stay with me and I felt like he was done trying to fight it. Although I prayed that the reason behind his change of behaviour wasn't that he knew it was the last time we'd be together in a while.

I knew I was trying to use sex in lieu of talking, but my mind was too numb from the over-thinking. I couldn't get into a deep conversation about my issues at that moment. Moreover, I was so scared of losing him and so sad for hurting him that it was all I could do to show him how bad I needed him. I couldn't bear the thought of him leaving me.

"Let's go back inside, alright?" I whispered, hoping he wouldn't tell me to fuck off, "Please," I said with a begging tone.

He hesitantly agreed and we slowly walked back into the room; he closed the door. I pushed him gently against it and I kissed him with some urgency, as if I knew we were going to be away from each other soon. My hips pressed up against his. I reached down with my hand and rubbed his penis through the thin fabric of his khakis.

"You smell so good," I said, smelling his neck and licking it down toward the hollow of his throat.

As we slowly stepped closer and closer to the bed, he pulled back for a second only to pull my t-shirt over my head. I could see his eyes take in every part of my chest and it made me feel a bit more confident that he wouldn't leave. There was still the same fire in his eyes. Then he leaned down and attacked it with his mouth and we fell onto the bed, him on top of me.

He pushed my jeans down and rubbed my cock to a full erection through my underwear. Then he pulled them down to my ankles as well and seemed to stare at my hard on for a moment before he devoured it, easily taking it down to its base.

"Oh God," I moaned.

He worked my cock with his mouth like a seasoned professional. His hands roamed back and forth from my chest to my thighs. I raised myself up a little and started rocking up and down, slowly fucking his face. He was moaning and slurping all over my cock. I watched his hands undo his belt and withdraw his gorgeous penis.

Replacing his mouth with his hand for a moment, he looked up at me and I looked down at his beautiful face. I grasped it and pulled him up. He took off his khakis completely, then his t shirt. He pulled it off and tossed it to the edge of the bed before he lay on top of me. The feeling of the full body contact was amazing.

He wrapped his arms tight around and underneath me. I held onto him for dear life, wishing I could consume him and he looked into my eyes. They were full of warmth and love, and I knew mine were begging him not to leave me. He raised himself up a little and my hand traveled to his abs, which were hard as rocks and I danced my fingers on them. I felt like I couldn't imagine not being able to feel his body against mine anymore. I loved him so much. I could only see him as perfection. He was gorgeous and I could never get tired of making love to him.

Then he pushed his chest against mine again and nuzzled his face into my neck. We began to slowly slide our bodies against each other, dry-humping if you will, enjoying the feel of one another.

I quickly let my hand slip to his lower back and run down the crack of his ass. My finger circled his smooth hole, feeling it expand and contract and I pushed it inside him. He whimpered and moaned as I slid it in and out. His hole relaxed and allowed me to push another finger inside. I massaged his hole and he just enjoyed the feeling as he quietly pressed his lips harder against my neck. He kept moaning and I knew what I wanted more than anything at that moment.

"Babe, Can I…?" no need to be a rocket scientist to figure out what I was asking him, considering I had my fingers inside him.

"Yeah..," he just sighed and raised himself up.

My hand left his ass, rubbed his cock and played with his balls,

"I want to suck you off first," I moaned.

He smiled at me and began sliding toward me, his cock leaving a sticky trail all the way up my body until it tried to find its way into my mouth.

"Oh yeah," he moaned, hovering above me as his cock slid along my tongue.

"Play with my ass, Rob," he pleaded.

I willingly complied and brought my fingers to my mouth to get them wet. I guided his cock back into my mouth before bringing my hand to his hole. I started pressing two fingers inside him while his cock slipped up and down my throat. He was in total ecstasy, his head thrown back, enjoying it on both sides. I was in quite a comfortable position and could probably have kept going for a long time, but his urgency was quickly becoming apparent.

"Rob," he asked with great need. "Where's the lube?"

"I don't know," I said, trying to guide his cock back into my mouth. He twisted around to look at my cock, hard as a rock against my stomach. Arriving at some sort of a quick decision he flipped around and attacked my cock with his mouth, moaning and licking around it, jacking it with his hand, forcing more and more precum out of it. His ass bounced up and down in front of my face and I continued to play with it as he soaked my pole. After my cock was well lubed with my own precum, he spun back around, straddled me and pressed my cock against his hole. Hearing him giving out a loud grunt, I felt the head of my cock pop into him, and then he began sliding down on it until he was seated on my pelvis. He was as tight as ever, and he began to slowly ride me, quickening his pace more and more.

"Oh babe," I cried, my cock responding to his pace.

His hands grabbed at my pecs and pinched at my nipples. My right hand wrapped around his cock and jerked him hard.

"Oh yeah, oh yeah," he moaned as I started to move my hips up and down and my cock slipped in and out of him fast.

It was becoming clear to me that he wanted to fuck one last time, but I didn't want that. I wanted to make love to him and make him stay.

I raised myself up and stopped him. I brought my lips to his and wrapped my arms around him. My cock slipped out of his ass and I lay him down gently on his back and just looked into his eyes for a moment. He understood and I smiled as I lay down next to him and hooked a hand under his knee, raising his leg. I gently entered him again, feeling his softness and warmth, my cock sliding across his insides.

Then, I pushed my face closer against his neck. I groaned as I pulled my cock out again and started to pump into him, deliciously. I nibbled at his neck and grabbed his cock. "You're so hard," I whispered, I loved the fact that he'd never lose his erection when I fucked him.

I raised his leg higher and penetrated him as much as I could, quickening my pace and fucking him a little harder. I rubbed his tight stomach and hard pecs a lot as I thrust inside him and jabbed at his prostate, trying to feel places in him I had never felt. Trying to make new memories. 'He won't leave me,' I tried to convince myself. 'He wouldn't.'

We made out as I pushed into him harder. We settled into this position for a while, Mark moaning with each thrust. I watched him, trying to memorize every inch of his body even though I knew it so well. I grasped his cock with my hand, sliding it up and down, causing him to cry out in pleasure and dribble precum all over my hand. Feeling him rock hard in my hand, I instantly felt the urge to have his cock inside me. If this was going to be the last time, I wanted to feel him in me as well. I withdrew from his ass and proceeded to lubricate his pole with my saliva and his pre-cum. Then, I straddled him and lowered my ass onto his cock. I kissed him passionately and held the back of his neck as he pushed himself into me, moving his hips upward. I moaned hard as I felt his cock slide into me.

I couldn't quite explain why I loved bottoming for him so much, but I did. If I thought of myself as being a top before we began having sex together, he turned me into a bottom, or a vers bottom. I just loved the way his penis opened me up, I loved how it made me feel and I couldn't get enough of it. Most of all, I loved giving him what he wanted, letting him service me in any way he wanted, hearing his moans of pleasure when he was fucking me and cumming inside me; there was no better feeling.

We moaned as I began to ride him. My pace started to quicken again and I could feel he was getting close. My cock was still rock hard, my balls drawn tightly against my body. He moaned my name and I felt the familiar urge building inside me,

"I'm close."

"Me too," he sighed.

My hand was moving quickly up and down my shaft,

"Babe, look at me," I said.

He did and we locked eyes, I knew from the way he looked at me that there was nothing but love and passion in my own,

"I love you," I said.

He stared at me,

"I love you," he said in a whisper as he began sliding his cock in and out of my ass fast again until he pulled out.

He jerked himself fast and pumped his load all over himself, causing me to shoot my load over his chest as well. I came hard and I kept moaning as cum continued to drip out of my cock. I moved down his body and wiped him off with a towel that been on the bed before going back up to kiss him.

Long after our orgasms had ended, we were still making out. I was holding him a bit tighter than usual, knowing that he might leave again at any second. Eventually I spooned myself against his chest and laced my fingers through his.

After a moment, he gently removed his hand and pushed my arm off his chest. He got off the bed and went to the bathroom. When he came out, he picked up his clothes from the floor and started getting dressed again. I shook my head slightly and sighed. I knew he was going to leave and I felt an overwhelming feeling of fear and sadness.

"Mark, babe, don't…" I begged him as I sat up on the bed.

He didn't answer, I could tell he didn't want to have another heart-to-heart. He was done talking and I knew there was nothing more I could do or say to make him stay this time.

He grabbed his suitcase by the door as he said,

"There's this place in LA called 'Promises'. I think you need to go there. Tom and Dylan will talk to you about it."

My eyebrows furrowed,

"You want me to go to rehab?" I asked, somewhat perplexed and immediately a bit on the defensive.

"Look, I'm not saying that you're an addict. You don't need rehab exactly. But this place, it'll be good for you. It's just a place where you can get the help you need, learn how to better deal with fame… just rest and focus on yourself for a while. Not on the band, not on me, just on yourself."

I stared at him and sighed.

"And you know what? I think I need some time to be by myself as well. There's things I need to do, and I need to do them alone."

I knew he was talking about going to meet his biological father, who he’d been in contact with, and maybe going back to Dublin to try talking to his mother again, and I felt hurt that he didn't want me with him for that.

"Please go to LA," he said insistently. "'Cause I'm not coming back until you do."

I watched him open the door and close it behind him. I didn't even move to chase after him this time. I knew he was right and I agreed with what he had said to me earlier but I didn't know where to begin. I felt sick to my stomach, knowing that I was hurting him and I had promised myself that I would never hurt him. I looked around the empty quiet room and suddenly felt alone and overwhelmed with sadness again as I began to feel tears form in my eyes.

Copyright 2017, unilive. All Rights Reserved
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Stories posted in this category are works of fiction. Names, places, characters, events, and incidents are created by the authors' imaginations or are used fictitiously. Any resemblances to actual persons (living or dead), organizations, companies, events, or locales are entirely coincidental. Note: While authors are asked to place warnings on their stories for some moderated content, everyone has different thresholds, and it is your responsibility as a reader to avoid stories or stop reading if something bothers you. 
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Chapter Comments

A pitfall of fame for sure and not so surprising, given their success.  It’s also not surprising the most charismatic member of the band is having the most difficult time adjusting.  I don’t think The Jekyll and Hyde thing is an uncommon trait to Rob and other frontmen.  Rob (and/orJordan) could end up dead if they don’t get control of things now.

 Mark did the right thing and I’m pleased infidelity wasn’t an issue between he and Rob.

Sad but good chapter.

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On 2/17/2020 at 6:33 PM, yarameb said:

awesome chapter, Thank you.

You're welcome, I'm so glad you're enjoying the story 👍

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On 2/17/2020 at 6:31 PM, FanLit said:

Mark did the right thing and I’m pleased infidelity wasn’t an issue between he and Rob

well It might get worse before it gets better! Thanks for your feedback im so glad you're enjoying the story!

Edited by unilive
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Such a well written chapter Unilive. There was a sad inevitability about it. I liked that Croke Park was said to be the highlight of their tour too. Ireland is still home to me.

It was clever of you to skip a couple of years. We can't be as critical of Mark's potential lack of support because we aren't aware of everything he went through, with his dealings with Rob.

Just going by Rob's summation of the stresses he was going through, it seems their manager was utterly incompetent for having overworked them and consequently burning them out. Idiot. But in the end, both Rob and Mark just clearly needed a break from all the touring and recording. It's not rocket science. They are smart enough people to have realised that and they had the resources to make it happen, but didn't. Again you made it happen in the two years we weren't around which was clever because you know we would have abused you for writing it this way, if you had done it over several chapters. 😡

Anyway, disasters were bound to happen at some point. Frankly, I did expect it much sooner in their career. But now that it's here we can only hope that there's a great story ahead for both Rob and Mark, to repair and rebuild their lives and relationship together, at a later point.

Rob needs to start rehab in LA as that is the precondition that Mark has set. So why do I feel that he won't do that and their breakup will become something more serious? I do hope I'm wrong but I'm a victim of my own insight, at times. 🤔

Edited by Bard Simpson
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@Bard Simpson I don't know if it was clever, but at the time, I was only writing this story to keep myself entertained and I already had a story line in mind. I didn't find it interesting enough to write several chapters about Rob's issues or Mark's lack of support and drag the story out. Plus I was really looking forward to write what comes next!

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