Frans King is a modern day popstar who lives his life on the outside as if everything were perfect. But, inside, he faces the tumult of an emotional typhoon.
His father and his record company force him to live a faux life in order to support a good...
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"Everythingthat'sbroke leaveit to thebreeze. Whydon'tyoubeyou andI'llbeme." - JamesBay
***
Frans sat angrily on the bar stool, pulling his hood closer to himself, to hide from prying eyes. Or maybe, he was just too paranoid. His apple green eyes glared at the red headed barman who avoided his gaze easily. The man gazed at the dance floor his eyes trailing up towards the vip sections, and then back down to the class he was currently cleaning.
“The strongest you have.”
Frans said lowly, pulling out his wallet and throwing the money on the table.
The barman hesitantly looked up, pausing at his task. His dark eyes were trying to see behind the shadows as the hood covered the young man's face.
"Sir, I need your ID-"
"the strongest you have."
Frans snarled, throwing more money on the table. It was so worthless to him. In fact, he didn't even care about it, so, he put some more money on the table, making the man widen his eyes in surprise. A small smile crept on the barman's face as he started imagining what all he could do with that money.
"Yes sir." The young barman mumbled, hurriedly mixing some kind of foreign cocktail. The barman's eyes never leaving the huge amount of money in front of him. Almost like being afraid someone would snatch it from him.
Frans snapped the drink from the strange mans grip and gulped half of it down immediately. It tasted bittersweet and he smirked at the hot liquid going down his throat, making slightly burning sensation in his throat. If the paparazzis want a story, they'll get a story.
He gulped the last of it down, "Shots, now." He angrily growled at the red headed man who hurried off to get the order done.
Frans closed his eyes and the images came flooding back. He hated himself so much. So, so much.
- Earlier thatday -
"What is this? This chicken is raw!" Frans pulled face, eyeing his food with disgust in his light eyes. Freddie narrowed his dark eyes at Frans. What is he playing at?
Annie glared at him. He may be well known but that doesn't give him any rights to insult Annies cooking like that! She was a history teacher at school, so she often understood teenagers and their behaviour. But somehow Frans still stayed mystery to her. She had asked Freddie, her boyfriend about Frans' odd rebellious behaviour. But he knew as much as Annie did.
