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...
Frans made his way to backstage, still hearing the people in the distance buzzing. He was sweaty and soon enough, adrenaline would leave his body. But nevertheless he smiled. It felt amazing to be up there and reveal all the stress with singing songs even thought they had no meaning, it was still fun.
Little did he know, the smile would be gone pretty soon.
"Mr. King! Mr. King! I've got you an important message!" The same lady from before rushed by Frans side, he didn't remember her name, they change too often for that. "Yes?" He asked, maybe a bit too exited but he couldn't help it. He was just that happy.
The woman beamed up at him, licking her lips. "I got an important phone call-" suddenly a voice boomed, cutting the woman's speech off. "For heavens sake Lena! Let the boy relax, have a shower and change of clothes!" Oh so she was this Lena.
Frans looked up to grumpy Marvel, some odd way the man never seemed to be in a good more for more than one minute. Maybe the job is still too boring for him. "Well? What are you still doing here?" Marvel asked, looking as annoyed as ever, Frans wasn't sure who he was talking with, the woman or him. "Uhm I'll just take a shower then." the green-eyed lad pointed out and disappeared from the hallway.
To his way to shower room, he passed by many of the crew members. Even though they've been working together for ages already, they still eyed him up and down like he was some kind of illusion.
Hopping by the dressing room, he snatched pair of sweats, he wasn't even sure how those got there but he was relieved, something casual sounded close to perfection.
A woman startled him. She stood there, tapping her food and her eyes sending daggers at Frans' way. Frans chuckled nervously, trying to hide the clothes behind him. It was Arabella, his stylist. The worst person you could stumble upon while trying to snatch casual clothes. She hated everything that you could define as 'casual clothes'.
"And what are you doing with those horrific clothes?" She asked, glaring at the sweats Frans was trying to hide. He slowly lowered his hands, Arabella immediately snatching the clothes out of his hands and threw them away. What's so bad about it?
