Imperfect

Fallout of Fame

The next few weeks were hectic. Every time I stepped outside, I could hear the rabble of paparazzi's trying to get a comment from me, and there was a constant thunderstorm of cameras clicking and flashing. I had gained millions of followers on my social media and the hate and judgement was pouring in. Malcolm and his team had also combed through all of my social media to make sure there was nothing problematic or damaging to Finley's career on there. Sitting in a silent beige room with them for eight hours was the most awkward thing I had ever done. Knowing they were reading and examining every post I had ever made. People had even started sending me death threats. Finley assured me it would calm down once people got to know me. Trying to find a job was proving difficult too. My parents had delayed their trip, to avoid the media circus and that had upset me more than anything. My newfound notoriety was already taking a toll on me. I was watching an interview with Finley and I, on YouTube, and started reading the comments.

"The way he looks at her when she's speaking is everything"

"Why the f**k would he want to date her? She looks like a troll."

"Anyone else find her voice unbearably annoying? Every time I hear her speak I just wanna shout at her and tell her to shut up!"

"I think they're really sweet together. They're obviously in love and all these negative comments are vile!"

"this girl needs to not be with Finley. She is soooooooooo ugly."

"Kill yourself."

The last comment seemed to be a crowd favourite, and the general hate went on and on. Most of the comments seemed to be positive, but the only ones that stuck out to me were the negative ones. I had closed my DM's on instagram and twitter and had started a new facebook. It surprised me how quickly people had found all of my social media and everyone in my life. I felt like I had just been exposed to the whole world overnight, and I wasn't sure if I liked it. I heard the door go and stopped scrolling through the comments.

"How are you doing sweetheart?" Finley asked as he slipped his shoes off. He sat next to me. He wrapped his arms around me tightly and I buried myself in his body and never wanted to let go of him. I had been a bit emotional the last few days. Knowing I couldn't see my parents until this had calmed down, and not being able to find a job was taking its toll on my mental health. My anxiety had me waking up in cold sweats, and I felt the constant threat of a panic attack from my fairly regular palpitations.

Finley had been woken a few times in the middle of the night to find me crying and hyperventilating on the bathroom floor. He had been so supportive in those moments, and just held me until I had managed to regain control. He would coach me through my breathing and rock me gently. We had even fallen asleep propped up against the door one night. I felt horrendously guilty for worrying him, but I couldn't control my emotions at the moment.

"Not good." I replied into his shirt. "There's so much hate online for me, I never thought people who didn't know me would be so judgemental. The worst thing is half of them are teenage girls." I was clinging to Fin like my life depends on it. At least I had someone here for me. Finley was running his fingers through my slightly knotted hair and he gently pulled my face up to look at him.

"None of that matters. Why do people you don't know get to affect you? I love you and you love me, and that's the main thing. My fans won't ruin this for us. Stop reading the comments for now, give it a week and they'll stop even bothering." He said reassuringly. I gave him my best impression of a smile.

"I'll be alright. It's just a bit of a culture shock. I'm not used to having so many eyes on me. How was work anyway?" I asked. I was fed up of hearing about the media and his fans.