Jackson's POV:

I prepare to step off the stage as the last song of the night nears its end. The crowd is chanting my name and I can vaguely hear something along the lines of "we love you" but I barely notice over the headache that I can feel building up too fast for my liking. Not that it's anything new. I slowly back away, waving my fans goodbye, after thanking them for coming all the way to watch me perform. I hand the mic to the management team and the events that follow are a blur because I can't focus on anything besides my raging headache that has now reached its full extent. Before I know it I am being rushed off to my private cabin away from the crowd as some people try to get a chance to shake my hand or get an autograph. Don't get me wrong, I love my fans but sometimes it's very difficult to manage everything, and a group of fangirls is the last thing I want to deal with right now. 

I turn around and blow them a kiss before continuing on, partly because I feel bad. They came all the way here to watch me sing. The least I could appreciate their love. I used to do meet and greets but lately; I have had too much on my mind and I can't just bring myself to socialize. Even my crew members had been having a hard time getting a word out of me for days on end. 

I open the door to my cabin and throw myself face down on the sofa. Too exhausted to do anything, I just remain in that position for a while. My throats feel too raw and my body is aching all over, but that is nothing compared to the storm that is brewing in my mind. I feel myself slipping into the oblivion but I fight it with all my strength because, first of all, it's too early for that shit and secondly, if Wade is being his usual punctual self he will be coming to talk to me in private any minute now. 

Just as I think of the devil, (although calling Wade a devil is equivalent to insulting the devil big time. He is more of an angel if anything, but I will never admit that in front of him), I hear a knock on my door and knowing that it's probably Wade; I say come in and the door swings open. 

''Hey, how are you doing?''I hear Wade say from behind me and I turn myself over to get a better look at him.

''What do you think?'' I reply sarcastically 

''So the usual, I presume,'' he chuckles at my remark but his face becomes serious all of a sudden,'' but just to be sure, you are feeling okay, right?''

"I am fine,''  I lie not wanting him to worry when the truth is far from it. I can already feel my thoughts clawing at my mind and the dark cloud looming ahead. Wade is the only one who knows about my depression and ever since he found out he had threatened to tell my parents unless I started seeing a doctor immediately under his supervision. He was not fond of the idea of keeping something this big but I had made him promise not to tell and he agreed as long as I was making efforts to get better.  Let's just say that under Wade's watchful eye, I never missed a therapy session.

''Did you take your medicine?'' he asks still not sure. 

''Relax. If I wasn't okay, would I have performed the way I just did? You gotta admit I just gave the best performance of my life," I say more to myself than to him.

'' Well, it was pretty damn good, but that's nothing new. It was Jackson Miller's concert after all," he praises me but his comments fall on deaf ears.

To be honest, even though I acted all confident, I had a ton of insecurities. The nervousness I felt before going on stage was just a small aspect of it. People expected so much from me but sometimes the thought of not fulfilling those expectations, the disappointment that my fans will feel if I make a mistake or make a fool out of myself is too much to bear and those thoughts are like holding up "welcome back" sign up for my wretched thoughts. 

"Jackson, did you hear what I just said?" I am pulled out of my thoughts as Wade waves a hand in front of my face. 

"Oh, yes. I did," I lie through my teeth again, knowing that Wade doesn't believe me for a second. Sometimes it worries me how much I lie to the people close to me about my feelings and emotions but trying to keep up the facade of being okay while constantly being attacked by anxiety and depression will do that to you.

''You know, you have been zoning out too much lately,'' Wade says. 

"Don't worry I am just tired. I can't believe that it was the last show. I am looking forward to that vacation you promised me," I say, trying my best to subtly change the topic. Wade was not only my best friend but my manager as well and we had been on a tour for the last three months to promote my upcoming album and to say that I was drained was an understatement.

"Actually, about that...'' wade says as he fidgets with his fingers and looks everywhere but at my face, something he does when he is nervous or has done something he knows I won't like. I am guessing it's the latter one.

"Oh, come on. What did you do this time? I was really looking forward to that vacation,'' I whine.

"I promise it's not that bad," he tries to reassure me.

"Okay just say it already. I might as well get it over with," I say, feeling gloomy already.

"Well, a representative of Stanford university emailed me earlier this month that they would love to have you perform at a welcome event being held for the freshmen since you are so famous among the young generation. I remember you told me last year that you had been planning to go to Stanford if your music had not picked up, so I told them you will do it," Wade blurts trying to get it over with.

" And you thought it wasn't important to discuss it with me, " I ask him in a low voice trying to make him think I was not okay with this when in reality that wasn't true at all.

Stanford University.

What if..? I did not let myself think beyond that.

" I am sorry but I did not want you to worry about something else while you were on your tour," he says, sounding apologetic.

"It's okay. I was just messing with you,'' I laugh at his expressions.

" Oh, that's good then," he says, looking relieved.

" I am so excited. This will be a new experience for you. You have done nothing like this before," he says enthusiastically. 

"I am excited as well," I smile at him. But the reasons for our excitement are completely different.

It was true that I had plans to go to Stanford University before I became popular but I wasn't the only one who was planning to attend Stanford. 

Author's note:

So that was the first chapter. Do tell me what you thought of it. This is my first story, so I hope you can bear with me and give this story a chance.
M.H.Khan