So it turned out JD wasn’t dying.
For a brief moment, it was thought that he was extremely ill and had picked up a questionable disease during his tour, but in the end, he’d determined it was a panic attack. And that was so much worse.
He could see the headlines now: Pop Star Panics! Everyone would be talking. JD was ill-fitted to continue his legacy. JD couldn’t handle the fame. JD should just stay at the mountain school with nothing else going for him. He’d just become an accountant or - gasp - a stage manager. No, he couldn’t sink that low.
But despite trying to convince himself he hadn’t peaked like that loser suggested, he couldn’t get anything right. He couldn’t write songs. He couldn’t come up with any choreography. He couldn’t come up with costumes or ways to advertise or any of it - his creativity was dry. The school finally broke him. He had nothing left to give.
With a clean bill of health and a desperate need for validation the teenage star would never admit, JD began setting up his booth in the Rec Center. Every donation would go to charity - no one needed to know that his bruised ego and his spiraling mental health was the charity. For just a galleon (suggested donation) or whatever students would give, JD would fulfill his promise.
A student approached the booth and he gave them his most dazzling smile. Despite being dead inside, he could swear his blue eyes sparkled. No one needed to know that inside he was nothing.
“Hi there,” he said with a grin, “Galleon or what you can give for a kiss? All proceeds go to charity!”