I have myself, and I have my fans. That’s all I need!

Ryota Mochizuki

Beams of brightly colored lights blaze down on my hot skin, beads of sweat dripping down my face as I finally finish today’s solo practice run. I strike the last cord of the song with my long and pale fingers, covered in a few cuts. Today, they weren’t nearly as bad. I felt confident with this song, after putting so much effort into it.

“And we’ll call that a day,” the deep voice of the music producer says through a speaker in my ears. I nod, and sludge my electric guitar over my head and onto its stand, a loud cheering of claps from the stage crew and music and camera workers. Even they couldn’t keep composure around me. I had seriously risen to the top charts in Japan, and made my singing life goals as a star.

If I had told my little, nerdy highschool-self that, I wouldn’t have believed it in the slightest.

“Good job, Ryota! You’re always the best.” Nanaka, a model who’d signed a contract with my manager to be in a pretend relationship, says with her hand on my shoulder. We’d be going public as a couple on my next album debut, which to me was utterly stupid. But I guess it was for the public-eye and media. I couldn’t really go against the words of my producer since he did help me on my path to fame, even if the term referred to as love was a stupid nonexistent object to me.

Partnerships were only good for one thing…

Otherwise, there is no need for such things. I was already enough. Money buys happiness, and producing music that everyone listens to was exactly how I got it

“Thanks,” I stutter out to her and push her hand off of me, walking to my manager. “So, what’s next on my agenda this week?”

“Meeting with the band tomorrow, signing contracts with photographers the next day, fan meet-and-greets, cover concept designs for the album, an interview on live television, more practice runs, and last but not least, The Photoshoot Event.”

“Will Nanaka be attending the same photoshoot?”

“Yes, just keep her on the downlow, if you could. We don’t want anyone to suspect anything yet.”

As if there is anything to suspect. I roll my eyes at my manager and he laughs.

“Sounds like another uneventful week…” I sigh.

“Hey, maybe you can meet someone at that photoshoot? You know-” he keeps a hushed voice, “Have some fun!”

I shoo him away with my hands, “No. But you go right on ahead,” I fire back, and he starts to cough.

“Ryota, I know you’re worried about your career, but you’re still young, barely old enough to go to college. Make some friends or catch some feelings, it’s not something you should postpone. You could end up truly lonely.”

“I’m not alone, Desmond. I have myself, and I have my fans. That’s all I need.”

My manager sighs, “If you say so.”

Despite the rest of the week filled with boring plans, it would still be enough to damage my sleep schedule.

This week would be boring and tiresome.

I had to prepare for some sleepless nights.