The "Biggest" Fan (EN)

5.

I was lying in bed, staring at the ceiling. This week had completely drained me. I reached for my blue notebook on the nightstand and started flipping through it. Usually, when I had too many emotions building up, I could let it all out by writing poems or songs. But tonight, I just wasn't feeling inspired.

Since when did I get so negative? Why does everything irritate me? Why do I just want to hide away and disappear? And how do I even get out of this feeling?

As I was lying there, lost in thought, I suddenly heard the door slam downstairs. I didn't need to hear any voices to know it was Harry. Lottie had warned me he was coming over. I'd made my peace with it, but it still gave me that awkward feeling - like when your parents have guests over, and you know they might pop into your room, or that eventually, you'll have to go out and say hi yourself.

I don't know how long I stayed there, trying to write something, listening, trying to catch bits of what they were laughing about. But the sound was all muffled. After a while, I couldn't hear anything at all. Had he already left?

I figured it was about time I left my room - not to see if Harry was still here, of course, but just to grab some juice from the kitchen, or something. But as soon as I opened the door, I realized the rehearsal wasn't over yet. Now, all I could hear was soft guitar strumming and a gentle voice. I didn't know what he was singing, but it actually sounded... Kinda nice?

Pretending like I didn't care at all, I headed downstairs and straight to the kitchen. But Harry spotted me immediately. He stopped singing and looked right at me, all flustered, like he expected me to say something.

"I just... Wanted to make sure I wasn't dreaming and that this terrible noise I heard was actually real," I muttered. He smirked a little, which threw me off, and I almost smirked back.

"I'm just waiting for Lottie," he explained, looking a bit less confident than usual. As he should've, I mean, he was in my territory after all.

"Oh, really?" I grinned, feeling a bit more entertained. "I genuinely thought you were here alone. Almost dialed the police because there's someone serenading in my living room."

Harry rolled his eyes dramatically. "Ha-ha, you actually are so funny."

"Well, one of us has to be," I teased him.

"Says the guy who can't take a joke without getting all riled up," he squinted at me.

My smile dropped instantly. "That's not true."

"See? It happened again," he said, laughing so hard the room seemed to fill with his laughter.

"Oh, fuck you," I rolled my eyes. I had to admit, he got me there. And maybe, just maybe, I was actually enjoying our little back-and-forth. But I wasn't about to push it, so I got back to my original plan: grab a drink and head out of here.

Harry started singing again. It was the same song, but from another room, it resonated differently. I mean, hey, it's my house - no one's gonna judge me if I stick around to listen a bit. Just curious, that's all.

I wandered back into the living room and quietly sat down on the couch, sipping my orange juice. Harry was focused on playing, though he'd sneak glances at me now and then, and I noticed his voice wavering. Finally, he hit a wrong chord and had to stop. I couldn't help but smile to myself. Nice to see him get a bit nervous while playing. Not so perfect after all, huh?

"Are you seriously just going to sit there and stare?" Harry's voice was a little breathy, and I wondered if it was from singing or because I'd actually irritated him.

"That's correct," I replied firmly.

"I thought you hated my songs?"

"Well, first of all, this isn't one of your songs. And second, maybe I'm just feeling a little masochistic today," I shrugged.

Harry squinted at me. "Masochistic, huh? Well, why don't I play something that'll make you question all your life choices then?" He looked around the room, like he was hunting for inspiration. "How about...?"

"All right, all right, enough," I cut him off, not about to find out what he'd actually pick from his catalog.

"Why not?"

"Because all your lyrics are cheap and meaningless."

"Not all of them. Just the ones that turn into chart-toppers," he chuckled, and I was surprised that he poked fun at himself. "And for your information, sweetheart, that was actually my song I was playing earlier."

Sweetheart, huh? We're getting affectionate, aren't we?

"Oh," I replied. I hadn't heard it before, and, well, it didn't sound desperate.

"You know, I try to write something meaningful too; it's just tricky when you have to keep everyone happy and not mess up the record deal."

"How deep, mister pop star," I mocked, but his expression stayed serious.

"Victor said the same thing," he went on, "Not just deep - ocean deep." He flashed a crooked smile, half-joking, half-impression.

"Victor, as in your life coach?" I asked, not hiding the sarcasm.

"No, my producer. But, yeah, close enough," he laughed. "He helps me write, edits stuff. Annoying sometimes, but hey, he knows what my fans like."

"As if you have that many fans..." I mumbled, even though I knew girls went absolutely wild for him.

"Well, one of them's sitting right here, claiming to hate me but still can't bring himself to leave," he grinned.

"I don't hate you," I said. "I just find you annoying."

"And yet, you're still here," he stuck out his tongue. What the hell?

"It's my house!" I stared at him, trying not to laugh at his expression.

I went quiet as soon as I saw Lottie coming back in.

"Glad you liked my song," Harry said as if we'd just had a deep chat about it. He seriously missed his calling as an actor.

"Yeah, it was... Okay," I mumbled, glancing at Lottie, but she seemed unbothered and distracted.

"Mom called - nothing serious. We can continue," she said to Harry. He nodded, picking up his guitar again. She turned to me with a smile, "Want to hear what we were practicing?"

"Actually... I need to..." I started, scrambling for an excuse.

"Oh, classic Louis escape plan - running, like always," Harry cut in, throwing me a sarcastic look, clearly amused.

Not wanting him to be right, I replied, "What I meant to say is that, actually, I need to grab another drink. Because I'm thirsty, and this glass is tragically empty. And then, of course, I absolutely plan to stay and listen," I said, flashing a smile back at Harry, who snorted and rolled his eyes up. Didn't see that coming, did you, sweetheart?