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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"And when you call and need me near Sayin' where'd you go? Brother, I'm right here And on those days when the sky begins to fall You're the blood of my blood We can get through it all" -NEEDTOBREATHE
***
Yes, Frans was relieved when they made it in the restaurant, but the anxious feeling did not go away with it, not at all.
Madison took a hold of his hand, staring at the waitress with narrowed eyes. The waitress had still smile plastered on her tanned face as she smiled down to Madison, not noticing the evil eye she was giving her. Mads was like a tiger, eyeing up its enemy, looking for weak spots.
"Yes, would you be so kind and to follow me, I'll show you to your table for two." She gestured for them.
The couple followed her, three bodyguards keeping a keen eye on them the whole time. The management, both Frans' and Madison's, had made sure everything was made safe and yet open for everyone to see.
Frans pulled Madisons chair out, giving her seat. After sitting down himself he realized how close his brothers restaurant really was. In fact, it was just behind the building, which wasn't a big surprised since it was the street where the most expensive restaurants were. With this realization, something in him twitched uncomfortably. "Here are your menus for the night, I'll be back in a few." She said brightly, holding the menus out for them. Frans took his with a grateful smile while Madison snatched it out of her hands.
As the girl disappeared, Frans felt more and more sick, was he nervous? Really? He's been out with Madison for a couple of times but he wasn't nervous, not like that at least.
"Ugh, these wannabes make me sick, did you notice the way her eyes were roaming all over you? I shall let Rhonda know what kind of people work here." She mumbled, her eyes glancing at Frans. Madison's eyes narrowed and she rolled her eyes. "For fucks sake, who does Pat think she is? I gave her one job to make you looks decent and here you are, looking as pale as usual. Ugh, I'll better text her to fix you up." Madison looked annoyed as she typed in her phone furiously.
But Frans wasn't even focusing on her. He gripped the menu hard in his hands, his knuckles white he was trying to push down the light shaking of his hands. It felt like his mind wasn't functioning right, he couldn't think of anything. Nothing at all. His mind was empty and running in thousand miles per second at the same time. He felt stuck, stuck in his own shattered mind.
He ignored the shiny tables around them, the romantic little flowers and lights placed all around them. He even ignored all the people and paparazzies behind the windows, trying to get a perfect shot of them to post in twitter or news. Even the lightly sweet smell made him more sick then he already seemed to be. In fact, everything seemed to be hard to focus on. The smell was too sweet and too strong, the dim little lights around their table seemed to bee to bright and there were just too many fake flowers placed around them.
"Did you even hear me, Frans?" Madison hissed, tapping against the table anxiously. He looked up, trying to keep his breathing even. "What?" He asked, his voice was higher then usually, like he was in pain. Yet, he wasn't.
She rolled her eyes, unlocking her phone again. "I said, Pat will be in the lobby in a few. To fix you up, Silly. And make sure no one will see this." She said casually, typing in her phone. Frans' legs were numb, lifeless. It felt like he didn't even have legs and fingertips at that moment. "Yeah, I'll just be back in a few. Order for me too please." He piped in, standing up and leaving, not waiting for Madison's reply. Even though he wasn't hungry at all.
He noticed few bodyguards eyeing him curiously, walking close and yet far. He entered the lobby, meeting Pat there. The woman seemed calm, which oddly pissed Frans off. He didn't even know the reason, but something was clearly annoying him to the point of break down. "Quick, quick now. Take a seat." She gestured at the only small chair. Immediately Frans sat down with a heavy sigh, his stomach was doing flips, his mind was a little foggy.
As Pat was putting something on his face, Frans' hand went over his heart. Something was definitely bothering him, if felt like someone was squeezing his throat, lungs and heart a little bit. He winced at the feeling, getting an evil eye from Pat.
Something in him clicked and he knew, he needed to get out of here. Like a dying dog who wants solitude and peace. "Pat? I think I look decent enough now." Pat frowned, still not pleased with her work. "But-" "go away, Pat." Frans growled lowly, feeling his stomach squirm.
He looked up at Pat, his eyes having a warning and dangerous glint in them. Pat took a small step back, looking at him warily. No words shared, Pat collected her items hurriedly and bolted down the lobby.
Frans didn't even realize he was stumbling out of a hidden door into dark and bad smelling ally. By now he wasn't even sure about his surroundings, he fell on top of trash cans, squeezing his hoodie.
He gagged, but nothing came out. His lungs were pumping air like he had just ran a marathon. Sweat was forming on his forehead, but he didn't feel too hot or cold. Just sick and numb. Some invisible force made him go higher, so he pulled himself on top of the trash cans. Realizing there was a small window with a view to his brother restaurants kitchen.
He rested his head on the window, breaths coming out in small gasps. It was hell. His body was shaking, confusing him to the point of going mad.
He clenched his jaw, trying to hold his breath. It didn't help in his situation. From the small window he saw his brother entering to the kitchen casually, talking with few cooks.
Frans looked away, trying to take deep breaths but it didn't help. He yelled out in rage, punching the wall behind him. A small tear wanted to escape down his cheek.
He felt something soft rubbing against his side, a quite big yellow cat with one scarred eye, purring against the boy. He slid his fingers through the ally cats rather soft fur, in attempt to calm himself. The cat curled himself on top of Frans, looking at him curiously with big, glowing green eyes.
Frans looked up, feeling rather nauseas. Yet, he didn't feel his body. It was just numbness and sickness formed in one, nervous wreck. He was one nervous wreck. He couldn't breathe, for a moment the whole world stopped. He was drowning. No air was allowed in his lungs, it felt like the same fake flowers with sweet perfume had grown up his lungs into his throat, not letting the real, fresh air through. Through the stillness, air started slowly going throught the sharp thorns again.
He closed his eyes, realizing the horrible smell, yet he didn't care. He was tired.
Suddenly someone pulled him down from the trash cans, helping to steady him. "There, there, you stupid boy. Let's get you out of here." He was relieved when he recognized the voice to be Marvels. Probably the only person he could trust, not completely but still, the closest. Marvel didn't seem too angry, if anything, he looked to be calm.
