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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“One day you'll leave this world behind So live a life you will remember.” -Avicii
***
Have you ever been somewhere you'd rather not be and all you want is to crawl under your comfortable bed sheets and never come out.
Well, I think that's the best way to describe Frans' current situation.
"What is this?" A white tablet was placed in front of Frans. The brightness was too much for him, but nevertheless he leaned over the screen, narrowed his eyes and gave it a look.
He didn't read any further, a couple of pictures caught his attention and he looked away, embarassed. Perhaps it wasn't the best idea to go drinking like that, especially in the middle of the week. Why couldn't he just go home and sleep like normal people do? He felt his phone buzz in his pocket. Annoyed, he gave it a glance and was surprised to find it was Fred who was calling him.
He was angry, and he had a killer headache. Annoyed, he ignored the call. "Well?!" Frans had almost forgotten Martha's presence in the room. She had gotten Frans, as well as Victor out of there. But she had refused to help others, which Frans felt more than guilty about. They hadn't came at the night but in the morning, when Frans had been sleeping like a baby.
"I don't remember." Frans said easily and leaned back. He closed his eyes and massaged his temples. This day had started off horribly. "You don't remember?! What is your problem! Do you know it isn't all simple to get you out of there! Do you even know how hard it was to get you even license? We can't ignore the law all the time, Frans! Maybe you could once, d-" door opening caught the duos attention.
It was Timothy.
"Martha darling, don't yell at the poor guy." He said, a wide grin on his face. Frans' head perked up at that, it was odd. There must be something in for him. "Don't you see?" He said, claiming the place on the couch next to Frans.
Martha was glaring at them. But Frans ignored her, his curious eyes on Timothy. "Do you know how many magazines would want an explanation for that?" Ah, there it is.
Martha rolled her eyes, she seemed a bit tired. "And what would you say? The guy is just happening to be annoyed and goes out for a drink?!" She whisper yelled. Guess Frans isn't the only one who can't handle the stress as well as Tim. Timothy laughed and waved her off.
"No, Frans is just enjoying his freedom outside the studio walls! He obviously has been a little more tipsy then usually, but he likes it. Because that is Frans.". Timothy's tone got serious, and even Frans straightened his back. There was something scary about the man, he was like a shark circling its pray.
"Frans is a teenager, he is a popstar, Martha. He is supposed to break girl's hearts and get drunk. That's the center of attention. Do you think Miley wouldn't of had gotten that popular if she didn't change herself? Do you think girls just like Lucky Blue Smith and Fransisco Lacho whatever sowksi-" Martha piped in "Lachowski." She said quietly. "Yes Lachomowski. Do you think girls would just be crazy about them if it wasn't for pictures? It all spins over the news and commercials, Martha, that's what we need!"
Timothy was in some kind of ecstasy, it was frightening to see someone who craved money like that. It wasn't humanly anymore. Timothy turned to Frans. "We should get rid of his mop of curls, probably dye it to platina blonde, yes! That's exactly what we'll do, and we'll get to it today, won't we?"
Frans looked at him puzzled, he doesn't want to dye his hair. "Tim, seriously, I don't want to-" "send him to Lara." Tim waved him off, turning his attention back to Martha who had sat down behind her computer.
Without another word, Marvel guided him out of the office. He was too puzzled to object.
Frans stopped in mid step, causing Marvel to bump into him. "What?" He growled, crossing his arms. Frans turned around, looking straight at the bulky bodyguards curious eyes.
"There's no way I'm going to cut my hair. And dye it blond." He said, crossing his arms. He felt like a grumpy cat and he didn't care that he made Marvels job harder. Besides, Marvel didn't get paid for listening Frans' rant.
Marvels glare rested on the popstar, he gave Frans a light push. "I don't care what you want. And neither do they." He mumbled and placed his meaty hand on Frans' shoulder, guiding the boy to Lara's work room.
Somewhat forty minutes later, Lara was drying his platina blond hair. All this time Frans had refused to even glance in the mirror, only thing his eyes landed on were his curls. They were laying on the ground, looking dry and dull.
He must look ridiculous with such a white hair. Besides, he never was into this hair dying thing.
"Done!" Lara exclaimed happily, clapping hands. Frans winced from the loudness, he was annoyed, hungry and most of all tired. "I love this color on you, Frans! Looks amazing!" She chirped happily. Now white haired boy crossed his arms and sunk lower in the chair, annoyed he refused to glance in the mirror. "I need a selfie with you for Instagram! The fans will go crazy!" Frans narrows his eyes as Lara took out her new iPhone and opened Instagram, she stepped behind Frans and opened the front camera. "Smile! Lush Lush!" She said, hugging Frans from behind. He widened his eyes a little bit and managed excited smile on his face.
Lara snapped the picture and stepped back, letting Frans get up. He looked odd and it felt odd as well. His curls used to be long and tickle him, it was annoying but it surely was better then dying his hair.
"Well, this looks different. Anyways, get up, we have a photoshoot and after that interview." Frans rolled his eyes at Tim's enthusiasm. He heard the clicking of heels what was -oddly- followed with silence. A warm hand was placed on his shoulder. "You heard what boss said, get up kid. You've got job to do."
