The "Biggest" Fan (EN)

1.

A comfy hoodie sadly hanged in my closet. Tonight is going to be rough. I raised my arms - this suit jacket was just a bit too tight, restricting every movement. Awkward. Unpleasant.

While I was fussing with the collar of my shirt, Lottie walked in. Unlike me, fancy clothes fit her, her loose, slightly wavy hair falling beautifully against her evening dress.

"So, what do you think? Does this scream, 'I'm here as your reluctant plus-one and already regretting it'?" I spun around with a performative sweep with my hand, showing my outfit.

Lottie pressed her lips together, imitating a polite smile. "Looking sharp, Louis. Mom will be impressed."

"She's always impressed when I manage to tie a tie without strangling myself," I sighed. "I can't believe I have to wear a suit. I look like a celebrity in one of those movies with a plot as thin as tissue papper."

Lottie giggled. "Well, if this is a movie, you're the leading man, about to sweep everyone off their feet."

"Perfect. Now, all I need for an Oscar-worthy performance is spilling my drink on the president, or something." I rolled my eyes. It's not like I looked bad-the suit did interesting things for my shoulders, and the pants brought out a certain charm in my legs. It's just... all these formalities, talking to rich, privileged people who wear fancy clothes but lack any personality underneath. Every time I see someone like that, all I want to do is vanish.

"You know, there definitely won't be any president there, right?"

I raised an eyebrow. "Then why are we even going? I didn't think we counted as A-list celebrities who go to these things."

"Mom said it's a great opportunity to meet some well-known musicians. Wouldn't hurt for you to talk to someone influential too... Maybe get your band out of the deep hole," she explained.

"Mmm... Rich sponsors, just what I want..." I mumbled. "If we ever make it big, it won't be because I kissed up to some John with a net worth of five billion."

"Well, if you did, we might be sipping champagne in a Caribbean villa right now instead of moping around here," she said, throwing her hands up. I made a gagging sound, pretending to vomit, which made Lottie laugh and roll her eyes. After a pause, she added, "Thanks, by the way, for agreeing to go with me. I don't know what I would do without you there."

"Probably have an amazing time without me around complaining about every little thing?" I smirked.

Soon we got into the car, knowing we were a bit early, but honestly, it's better to arrive early than be late to an event like this. Though, if we were late, maybe they wouldn't let us in, which actually sounded ideal.

After about twenty minutes of driving, the GPS announced our arrival. I parked next to a row of very expensive-looking cars and got out, feeling even more out of place. I felt like an average guy who'd taken a wrong turn and ended up in the VIP section, rubbing shoulders with the elite. Terrifying. At least Lottie was there; she seemed genuinely excited to play the celebrity for a night.

We didn't go inside immediately, though we weren't the only ones who'd arrived early. We leaned against the car in silence until Lottie finally broke it.

"Well, it doesn't look that bad, does it?"

"I don't know... It looks like way too much," I said, scanning the people passing by. It was even worse than I'd imagined, honestly. "So, who's even going to be here? Anyone I might know?"

"Hmm, I have no idea. Some local stars, popular musicians," she glanced upward, as if trying to drag a thought from the back of her mind, "Our dear mother, of course."

"Of course," I said with an ironic smile. If there's an event, Mom's there. She's inevitable.

"Probably some city officials too... Oh, and I heard someone mention Harry Styles. Imagine if I could actually meet him... You know him, right?"

My face contorted in horror. "Harry? Seriously? Is it too late to bail? His music is like a top contender for the worst thing ever invented."

"Oh, come on! Not every song has to be a Shakespearean masterpiece," she deffended.

"Well, you never liked poetry, so..."

"I thought you didn't either?" She tilted her chin slightly. I shifted my stance, folding my arms.

"I just don't understand what sane person would write music about such shallow things like money, parties, and girls," I said. I'm no music expert, but there's so much interesting stuff to write about. But guys like Harry stick to a commercial formula, taking away the whole point music's supposed to have. He could probably write a hit about chickens invading England just because he's popular and has a pretty face.

I remember the first time I saw Harry - not in person, obviously. I was scrolling on TikTok when this guy popped up on my 'For You' page. He had that look-rich and famous, singing some song about being a player and breaking hearts. How does that get millions of views? It made me rethink my life choices, like, how did TikTok see this as 'for me'?

I quickly scrolled past then, but I've seen him a few times since, pretending to be all charming, funny, and lovable in various interviews. And his songs play on the radio every single day, literally no way to escape that.

"Those shallow things made him popular. And his songs are catchy."

"My alarm clock's catchy too, doesn't mean I want it in my playlist."

Lottie let out a dramatic sigh. "I promise, it won't be that bad tonight. Who knows, maybe at the end of the day, you'll start to vibe, too."

"It's more likely for me to pick up an absurd hobby like, I don't know, competitive underwater origami or something," I mumbled rapidly.

"What?" she paused, processing my nonsense. Love throwing random stuff at her just to throw her off. "Whatever. Let's just get inside and try not to get mortally wounded by all the 'vanity' in there," she teased, guiding me towards the entrance. I grinned back but followed along without protest.

Heyy, it's my first story in English, so I hope you'll enjoy!

Maybe we'll write something fun together (even though I'll still cringe at it years later lol).
Feel free to leave a comment :D ❤️