To live before dying

The room smelled like jasmine and cigarette smoke.

Nathan Ward leaned back against the velvet headboard, his shirt halfway unbuttoned, a faint smirk playing on his lips. The woman beside him—someone whose name he hadn’t bothered to remember—was tracing circles on his chest with long, painted nails.

“You’re quieter tonight,” she whispered, her voice soft, teasing. “You usually talk more.”

Nathan’s grey eyes shifted to her. “Talking isn’t what you came here for.”

She giggled, low and breathy. “You’re impossible, you know that?”

“I’ve been told,” he said, his tone flat but charming enough to make her blush.

Her perfume filled the air—too sweet, too heavy—and for a moment, the scent made his head ache. Still, he reached for her, his hand sliding to the back of her neck pulling her hair. She shivered, leaning closer, desperate for attention that he gave only half-heartedly.

Every touch, every sound, every sigh—it was all familiar. Too familiar.

He had repeated this dance with so many women that the rhythm had lost all meaning.

“Nathan…” she breathed his name like it was sacred as he began his foreplay. His eyes fixed on hers as he slowly rubs the tip of his fingers on her thigh reaching out for her womanhood.

"Fuck Nathan......" She screams out in ecstasy as she felt the wave of pleasure in a single pulse rhythm only to find out that his hands were already in her wet pussy. 

It's was so obvious that this was his job- to give ladies pleasure in exchange for his peace. He always have a way of getting different women running to him for night stand and then, he made the ideology that women were created for sex. 

Nathan had already had her hands pinned up against her head as he continuously slammed her pussy.

"Nathaaaaaannnnn" she managed to plead as her eyes rolled backward preparing for next orgasm. He likes it rough so does every lady do. 

He pulled his hands out replacing it immediately with his erected dick as he forcefully thrusts it back and front rubbing his hands on her wet clit.

"Aaggghhhh...soooo good......" He moaned as she unconsciously needed a break cause it felt like the sex was gonna kill her moreover, she didn't want it to end. 

She couldn't take it anymore " shittttttttt" she said and what comes next was a heavy squirt. The kind that'll make you look insane. Her pupil weren't visible to him as she began to jerk. She screamed as her walls pulsated and tightened around his dick.

Immediately he pulled it out and began to roll his tongue round her pussy putting his wet hands from her pussy to taste her cum. Inserting his hands deeply into her throat while his tongue rolls over her clit.

Immediately she knelt reaching out for his dick. She stroked him multiple times and swirled her tongue on his cap, sucking the living hell out of it. 

She looked up at him to see his reaction only to get a sensation at the tip of her breasts. Nathan threw his head backwards in awe slowly moaning at the back of his throat as she sucked his dick. Grabing her hair backwards, he fucked her into her mouth as she opens it to suck every bit of juice coming out from his dick.

"You are a bad ass bitch" he said as she looked up at him and gave him a satisfactory smiled. What he always tell them to keep them going. It's just like adding a fuel into the engine and ofcourse, girls likes praises. If they likes it, why not use it?

" Thank you daddy.." she purred as he slaps her dangling breast. That night seems far from over but definitely it had to end before his audition starts.

They went for more rounds until she gave up cause it was too much for her to handle. Nathan is always full of strength to go for any rounds — he's already used to it.

Immediately, the presence of the room changed. He felt a dark feeling, a feeling of void and nothing more.

He stared at her lips but his mind wandered elsewhere—somewhere darker, quieter. There was no warmth in his chest, just that same emptiness that followed him home after every show, every party, every night like this.

When she finally lay still beside him, he stared at the ceiling, a cigarette between his fingers. Smoke drifted lazily into the air.

“Will I see you again?” she asked sleepily.

He took a drag, then exhaled without looking at her. “No one gets a second night with me.”

The silence stretched. The woman shifted, hurt flickering in her eyes, but she said nothing more. She slipped out of bed, wrapped herself in her dress, and left quietly, the door clicking shut behind her.

The moment she was gone, the mask fell from his face. His smirk faded into something hollow. He rubbed at his temple, wincing as the dull throb at the base of his skull returned—stronger this time.

He hated that pain. It was the only thing lately that reminded him he was still alive.

Nathan stood, moving toward the window. The city glittered below—bright, noisy, full of life he couldn’t feel. Neon lights painted his reflection across the glass: tousled hair, tired eyes, perfection sculpted by fame but filled by exhaustion.

He tapped his cigarette against the railing, watching the ashes scatter like snow.

“Another night,” he murmured, “another stranger.”

His phone buzzed on the table. A message from his manager:

> Stage at 9 p.m. sharp. Sold-out crowd. Don’t be late.

He smirked faintly. “Wouldn’t dream of it.”

***

The concert.

By nightfall, the world screamed his name.

The arena pulsed with light and sound—hundreds of flashing phones, thousands of voices chanting Nathan Ward! in unison. The noise was electric, the kind that vibrated through your skin and made your bones hum.

He walked onto the stage with the confidence of a god.

Leather jacket, microphone in hand, grey eyes glinting under the stage lights, with a damned hair just ran past through his left eyes—he looked untouchable.

The first chords of his opening song filled the air, and the crowd went wild.

“Good evening, London!” His voice boomed over the speakers.

The cheers were deafening.

“This song,” he continued, lips curling into a half-smile, “is about living fast… and never regretting it.”

The music swelled. The bass thudded. He began to sing. his voice was the kind that can make even a man fall in love. He's known for songs that talks about love and the one that will make you love the gender sitting right beside you. 

He sang like he had lived a fulfilled love life but what no one knows is that his wishes were his lyrics.

The crowd swayed, hypnotized. Girls screamed his name. Some cried. Others held up banners with his face on them.

Nathan smiled for them, but it didn’t reach his eyes.

Every note he sang felt like a lie he’d told himself too many times.

As the lights flashed, he caught his reflection in one of the stage monitors—sweat beads on his temples, a sharp ache pressing behind his eyes. It was little at first, a pulse of pain that came and went. He ignored it, pushing through, letting the adrenaline drown it out.

But by the third song, it grew worse.

His vision blurred around the edges. The sound of the music began to distort, like someone was twisting the world. 

He gripped the microphone tighter, forcing a grin. “You still with me?” he shouted. The crowd roared in response, oblivious to the pain behind his charm.

He staggered a little, then steadied himself.

The crowd sang along. Their voices rose like waves, drowning him.

He tried to keep going, but his breath hitched. The pain stabbed through his skull like a blade of lightning. His fingers trembled.

He turned slightly, searching for his bandmates, but everything was a blur of color and sound.

“Nathan!” someone shouted from the side of the stage. “You okay?”

He didn’t hear them. The microphone slipped from his hand, clattering to the floor. The sound echoed across the arena.

The lights flashed white.

The cheers turned into gasps.

Nathan’s knees buckled. The last thing he saw before everything went black was the en

dless sea of faces screaming, panicking, crying—and the world spinning out of focus.

And then......

nothing.