I know I’m just a fan, but that doesn’t mean I don’t care.

It happened while I was at my part-time job. I was greeting people with my usual false smile. I just had to get through the day, I knew. Just a few more hours.

When there were no customers in line, I took the opportunity to glance at the notifications on my phone. I was immediately confused. Messages from two different messaging apps were coming in in a frenzy; many new YouTube subscription videos were lined up; and lastly, private messages from my writing account were listed in the double digits. Curious, I tapped on one of the messaging apps first. The last person I had received messages from was a friend that lived on the other side of the planet, which confused me. It was probably two in the morning there…

I forgot all about that when I saw her messages. My heart dropped into my stomach. My head started spinning. I forgot how to breathe.

She told me he was dead.

My mind was whirling. Maybe it’s just a prank, I tried to rationalize. A cruel, cruel prank.

But all the other messages my phone had received said the same thing. I was unable to believe it. With shaking hands, I went to Google and typed in his name.

The seconds it took for the screen to load felt like eons.

His beautiful face was on the screen. So was his birthday.

And his death date.

It was the same date as the one at the top of my phone.

I didn’t know that it was coming, but a sob rose from my chest and escaped in a heartbroken cry.

A few customers that had been talking or sipping at their coffees looked up at the noise.

My heart was going at an impossible pace as tears soon formed in my eyes. When I blinked my eyes due to the burning sensation behind them, tears began cascading down my face like rivers.

I know I’m just a fan, but it still hurt, so, so, much.

“Hey, what’s-” my coworker began as she walked out of the kitchen, stopping with a startled gasp as she saw me breaking down. “Hey!” She quickly walked towards me. “What’s wrong? What happened?”

“What was that noise?!” one of my managers, the one I didn’t like, called from the kitchen. As my coworker tried getting me to say what happened, he stormed out of the kitchen with fury on his face. As soon as he saw me, it changed into confusion.

“What’s the matter, girl?” he asked me. I didn’t know what to say. I stumbled over my words until I managed to squeak out,

“Someone close to me died.”

I didn’t care if he would lecture me for looking at my phone while at work. I needed a reason.

“What’s going on?” the other manager asked, walking out of the kitchen. Her kind eyes looked at me with surprise.

“Someone died,” my coworker answered for me.

“Oh,” the woman said in surprise. She looked around the cafe, then looked at me. “I’m very sorry about that, dear. Would you like to go home?”

I attempted to choke out a “yes, please,” but all I could do was nod. Many of the customers were now staring at me. A few of them looked like they wanted to help, but didn’t want to get involved.

“But she can’t go home!” the male manager angrily muttered. “We need her here!”

The woman glared at him. “Look at her! Do you think she can work like this?” Her eyes softened when she looked at me. “Go clock out and go home, honey.”

I nodded and stumbled to where my coat and bag were. My coworker followed. As I was clawing at the knot on my apron to get it off, my coworker whispered, “Don’t clock out. I’ll clock you out when I leave.”

I wanted to thank her, but couldn’t find the oxygen in my lungs to do so, so I just focused all my attention on trying to zip up my coat. Eventually, it just stayed open. I ran to my car, frantically pressed the unlock button, then jumped inside. Music. I needed music. I grabbed my phone again, this time ignoring the messages, and hit the first play button I saw on my music app. Some upbeat French song that I wasn’t listening to played as I pulled out of the parking lot.

I began driving home, paying no mind to the speed limit signs. The more thoughts that were flying through the cacophony in my head, the faster the car sped. The song changed, and my mind hit the reset button when I heard his smooth voice begin my favorite song of theirs.

It was his song. He had always been proud of it.

The car was slowing down.

I heard his voice flow through the speakers, and for the first time, they hit my heart like daggers.

My foot punched the gas pedal, causing the trees around the road to blur. The roar of the engine was louder than the song.

When I got to my home, I drove up the driveway and haphazardly parked the car before grabbing my bag and phone and running into the house without even thinking to lock the doors.

I barged into the house with gasping breaths, surprising someone that was sitting on the couch. “Hey, why are you-”

I ran down the hallway before he could finish his question. I needed to get to my room. I needed to be alone. When I finally got to my safe haven, I slammed the door shut and dropped my bag and phone onto the floor before throwing myself onto the bed. There, I pressed my face into a pillow and couldn’t breathe due to heaving sobs.

He was dead.

The man that I cared about like no other. I had first fallen for his voice, then for his incredible mind, and lastly for his face.

How could he be -

I needed to know. I threw the pillow that was stained with my makeup-darkened tears across the room before crawling off the bed to find my phone. There I began my research.

Some articles said it was suicide.

Others said it was extreme malnourishment.

Still others said it was an accident.

I happened to scroll past the comments from other people in the fandom - or not. Those that said that they were crying, the rare few that said “Good riddance,” and those in the gray area in between.

It was then that I realized that it didn’t matter what had happened. He was gone. His life would grace this world no longer.

Then began the knocks on my door. The people shouting, asking what was wrong.

They began to think that I had gotten fired. “It’s okay,” they shouted through the door. “It was time to move on anyway.”

“It’s not that!” I screamed so loudly my throat was raw.

“Then what is it?”

“He’s gone. He’s gone, gone, gone.”

“Who?”

“HIM!”

As the hours went by, they began to realize who I was talking about.

“You’re being ridiculous!” they would shout through the door. “He’s just a celebrity!”

“He didn’t even know you!”

“You never even met him!”

But they didn’t understand. They didn’t know. They didn’t know how it was the thought of his encouraging words that got me through the long days. They didn’t know that it was his urging to do well in school that challenged me to excel in my classes. They didn’t know the many times when I felt loneliness creep into my scarlet heart and I watched a video of him to make me feel like I wasn’t so alone in this world. They didn’t know.

They didn’t know.

How could I tell them?

How could I tell them that

I know I’m just a fan, but I still loved him.