(I'm not being serious)
Dreary rain was something I had not yet familiarized myself with. Warm, summer rain used to greet me back in my Georgia home. It would water the plants and provide momentary relief from the harsh ways of the sun. The humidity that came after was always oddly welcome to me, like an old friend's heavy embrace.
The rain in LA was much more unfamiliar. It was warm all the same but it was an uncomfortable warmth, and an unwelcome one too. It carried with it the sins of the city, seeping through my clothes as quickly as my mother feared it would. They didn't want to loose their little girl to a city of fast livers and big dreamers, but they had lost me the day the took my punk-rock CDs away. My parents couldn't handle who I was, especially my father, who wanted to keep me as sweet as the peaches we farmed. I wasn't sweet, I was never sweet. I was salty, dark and bitter. No amount of pink dresses could erase the black of my soul.
I left.
It wasn't like I ran away, I told my parents where I was going, told them I had a plan, told them I loved them, and told them goodbye. They told me they didn't want me to go, but they never told me not to go. They loved me, but they could never understand me. I wasn't made for Georgia, I wasn't made for pink dresses or country songs. It took a long time to figure out what I was made for. Or rather, who I was made for.
Bryan Stars.
The first time I was him was on YouTube. I hadn't been a fan for as long as the people who were there for the interviews, but I cared about him more than they did. It only took three videos to figure it out. Bryan Stars. I was made for Bryan Stars, and he was made for me.
I didn't tell my parent's why I moved to LA or what my plan was, but I did have one. Find Bryan Stars, and make him love me. Getting to LA was easy, but finding him was hard. Every day I spent all day searching every Aeropostale, looking for that unmistakeable head of hair and porcelain skin. I didn't know what I would say when I found him, but I hoped something would come to me in a moment of genius when I did.
It was another dreary LA rain that weighed down his hair, making it unrecognizable. I almost want sure, but if I couldn't recognize him by his hair I could by his style. For his videos he mainly wore band t-shirts and straightened his hair, a look I both envied and worshiped. This was the other side of Bryan, classic Bryan who wore his hair curled and had Aeropostale shirts and basketball shorts. There were two Bryan Stars, and I had fallen in love with both.
And he was right there, right in front of me, looking at a blue shirt. A shirt as blue as the Georgia sky's I would never miss again. As blue as my new sky was, the sky that was Bryan Stars.
My rain-soaked clothes weighed me down, but the moment I was him I was lifted up again. "Um, excuse me?" I said, taking a small step forward. "My name is Wendy, and I'm a huge fan."
Bryan turned around at the sound of my voice, and the first emotion I saw shoot across his face was fear.
YOU ARE READING
Under The Stars- A Bryan Stars Fanfiction
FanfictionMaybe it's his golden hair, maybe it's his Aeropostale shirts, maybe it's his successful youtube career. Whatever the reason, I was trapped. Trapped under the sky that was Bryan Stars.
