The "Biggest" Fan (EN)

9.

I grabbed my jacket, still not quite sure what to say to Harry.

Luckily, he broke the silence as we walked outside. "Well, that was unexpectedly... fun."

The cold wind hit me as soon as we stepped out, and I had to squint to keep snowflakes out of my eyes. I looked over at Harry, watching snow fall on his hair. White flakes made an interesting contrast with his dark curls, getting tangled in them.

"I'll admit, I didn't hate it," I stretched, putting on a reluctant tone. "Thanks for not bankrupting me, by the way."

"I didn't do it out of the kindness of my heart. You still owe me, remember?" he smirked again.

"I thought I'd owe you in the game, not in real life."

"Well, you never paid me back, so I'm still waiting," Harry said, flopping down into the passenger seat with a playful grin.

"And what exactly do you want?" I sighed.

He shrugged. "I don't know. All I can think about right now is food. I've been starving since lunch."

I paused for a second, considering my options. "Honestly... I could eat, too. But nothing's open in the middle of the night."

"Not true. There's a kebab shop I used to go to when I was younger. Only thing is, it's a bit out of the way," he said, glancing thoughtfully out the window.

"Kebabs? Wouldn't have thought you were that type," I chuckled, my stomach rumbling just at the thought of food. "Figured you only ate at fancy places."

"And why would you think that?" He laughed, feigning offense. "Okay, maybe I can see why. But I'm not that spoiled. Even the biggest stars deserve a kebab now and then."

I smirked, biting back a laugh. I handed him my phone. "Alright, just put in the address. But please, don't get any ideas about snooping through my browser history or anything."

Harry snickered, already tapping away on my phone. "No promises," he teased, then quickly entered the directions, the screen lighting up with a route.

We drove in silence for a while, only the quiet music playing on the radio. I caught Harry tapping his fingers to the beat out of the corner of my eye. He's enjoying my playlist? Interesting.

"So..." I decided it was a good time to start a conversation again, "You've seriously never played Monopoly?"

He looked over, pulled out of his thoughts. "If I ever played it as a kid, I don't remember. My family isn't exactly the family-game-night type."

I glanced at him; he looked a bit more serious than usual. "So, what are they like, then?"

He looked back at me, seemingly surprised by my curiosity. I shrugged and focused on driving again.

"They're business people. If something doesn't make money, they see it as pointless."

"Well, your career must be making a lot of money, I guess," I mused.

"It wasn't always like that," he said. "I remember how furious my parents were when I told them I didn't want to go to business school and wanted to sing instead."

"But you convinced them?"

"It took a while. Only when I gained my thousandth follower did they start speaking to me again. They saw it was possible to make a career out of it, and they offered to help. Their conditions made me furious, but I soon realized that without their money, my path was coming to a quick end," he spoke calmly, though there was a hint of sadness in his voice. I bit my lip, thinking about my own band's struggles with money.

"So, you just let them turn you into a vain pop star? That's actually kind of sad."

"No," he said. "At least I get to make a living doing what I love. Maybe with a little less fame, it would feel less overwhelming, but I love my fans," he continued, staring out the window.

"I'm sure your fans would love you even if you switched record labels, where you'd probably have more creative freedom."

"Maybe. Or maybe not. Imagine if your favorite artist suddenly started making music about things you thought were stupid. Bet you wouldn't stay a fan for long. So, there's always some kind of pressure."

I didn't reply, just nodded understandingly. What did I know about popularity, when I couldn't even find a decent gig? Maybe Harry had a point.

"And what about you?" he said, his mood shifting back as he smiled slightly. "How's your path to fame going?"

"It's rough," I admitted. "Honestly, I'm starting to wonder why I want it in the first place." I hadn't expected to get that candid, but maybe that was the effect of a late night.

"Why do you? Why do you love playing?"

"I don't know. It's fun, I like it. And I'm good at it?" I said, sounding a bit unsure.

"So, it's your ego then, loving being praised," Harry smirked.

"Yeah, you caught me. Massive praise kink. I live only for compliments, obviously," I rolled my eyes. My tone made Harry burst out laughing, which made me laugh, too.

"Okay, so obviously I should either start applauding you or mention how lovely your voice sounds when you sing, right?" he said, playfully mimicking my accent. Haha, aren't we funny.

I shook my head. "It doesn't work that way. You've never actually heard me sing."

"Maybe I have."

"No way. I haven't sung anywhere lately, and when we met, you had no idea who I was," I frowned, remembering our less-than-pleasant first encounter.

"Of course I knew who you were," Harry suddenly burst into laughter. I had to grip the steering wheel tighter as it totally threw me off. I had just pulled up beside the kebab shop, but neither of us was in a hurry to get out.

"You didn't," I turned off the engine, finally turning fully to face him.

He sat there, calm, with an amused smile. "Maybe I saw you a couple of years ago, singing karaoke with your friends at the Midnight Bar."

"Why do you remember that?" I frowned. I remember that night — I'd had just enough to drink for a little liquid courage to get up on stage. Slightly embarrassing.

He shrugged. "You had a distinctive voice; that's why I remember."

"I don't remember seeing you there."

"That's the whole point," he clicked his tongue as if proving something. "Do you think I go to bars just to take selfies with fans every two seconds?"

I tilted my head. I wondered if I'd have recognized him at all. After a moment, I came back to the original thought. "But when we met, you thought I was..."

He quickly shushed me, barely holding back laughter. "I know. I was just messing with you, and you got so irritated. You should've seen your face."

"That wasn't funny! Seriously, what's more offensive than being mistaken for Luke? The guy can't even sing."

"Yeah, that's true," he agreed, his dimples deeper than ever. "Well, you started it. I just thought it'd be funny to match your spiteful energy, just to see how far it could go."

I closed my eyes and tilted my head back, smiling. "So, you're just as terrible human being as I am, huh?"

I heard Harry chuckle quietly. Then his more serious voice brought me back. "So, are you buying me a kebab, or what?"

I realized we'd been sitting there doing nothing for way too long. "Yeah, that's... What we drove here for, right?" I got out of the car, feeling the cold air hit my face. At least the snowstorm had stopped. 

But I still felt some kind of shiver inside. Either I was catching a cold, or this night was starting to mess with my head more than I wanted to admit.