Hate Being A Rockstar! (ON-HOLD)

Chapter 4-My New Home

New Chapter! Click vote and Leave a comment! Thanks!

Chapter 4

Not another one! He knew me too?

I groaned inwardly as the boy, no more than twelve years old skipped towards us. The lady was smiling when the French guy walked towards her and gave her a hug. The boy was smiling genuinely at me when I looked down at him He has dimples, how cute. His hair was russet in color and I had a sudden urge to run a hand on it.

“How do you know it’s me?” I asked, bending my knees so that my eye level was the same as the boy.

“Il est facile, je savent que c'est vous, Chloe!” He said, speaking so fast in French I did not know how to response. I shot a look at the French guy. He was releasing the lady who smiled kindly at me, patted the boy on the head and left the house. She was on her way to work, that was the answer I get in my head when I asked myself where she was going.

“Elle ne connaissent pas le français, frère,” the guy told the boy, while carrying my luggage into the house. I inhaled deeply, trying to calm myself, reminding myself that this will happen when I come to Paris because I did not know how to speak French. My fists were balled up as I followed the boy into the house. Too angry to stay rooted there.

When I enter the house, I was overwhelmed by sudden warmth of a family. It felt nothing I have ever encountered before, not even in my own house. Okay, I have to admit that I was rarely at home but even I was home, the feelings were not like that. All I feel was loneliness, cold and strange.

“You will be staying here from today onwards until you want to leave,” the French guy said, putting my luggage in the living room. The living room was the first room I have stepped into when I went in, and not the place to keep shoes in a rack or something. The shoes were placed nicely beside the door. The couch was the first thing I saw and next was the television, right in front of me.

I have never felt like it was home to me when I was at my own house. But here, it was home-coming for me. The scent of it was sweet; golden honey that was just collected by the bees. I inhaled deeply like this was the first time I tried smelling the air in Paris. The air here was the real air in Paris. Those outside one was polluted by man-kind who were irresponsible.

I traced my fingers along the wall and it was smooth under my touch. The wall was painted in a pale yellow color, but it had created a cozy atmosphere to the house. There was a black piano at the corner of the room, facing the window that overlooks the neighbor’s house. The stairs heading upstairs was alongside the television and I wondered if that will affect their mood of watching the TV?

The entry to the room that the French guy showed was on the left of the room, together with the piano. It almost looked like the piano was blocking the door and I started to open my mouth to give some sarcastic remark but that guy just went passed through like he was invincible to the piano. He carried my luggage along with him.

The boy was still looking at me with a disbelief look on his face. He looked more tanned than the French guy and he had the bookworm features. He did not wear glasses but I can easily read him like a book.

“Are you really Chloe?” he asked in timid as a mouse voice and when he said that I had to wait for my brain to process whatever he was going to say.

“Yea,” I sighed. “How did both of you know it’s me by just one glance at me?”

He laughed –more like snickering-. “I’m his brother! And we are your biggest fan!”

“Brother?” I repeated, sounding shocked more than I need to. Oh, that explain the color of their eyes, I thought to myself. “My biggest fan?”