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...
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
"It might be over soon." -Bon Iver
***
The door closed behind Frans, immediately he noticed Pixie who was staring at him with wide eyes.
The two guards stood stiffly next to the door, making him feel more and more trapped as time passed. There was thin layer of sweat and some kind of make-up powder on his forehead, and a gel that now made his hair stick out in odd angles
His performance had been an utter chaos. He had tripped over himself countless of times and forgot his own song lyrics. And on top of that he had managed to trip off the stage, it was pure luck some guards were in between him and the people in the concert. It had been chaos.
After the concert that had been the worst concert of his life, he was announced of the security cameras in his own house, because what happened to Fredrick, they think someone wants bad things to happen with Frans as well. As he stood in the doorway, already he noticed the small red blinking dots in the corners of the room, almost not having any blind spots if any at all. It was quite frustrating as he felt like an animal in a cage, everyone saw where he was and what he did. He only hoped they didn't have a camera in a bathroom, that would be the most frustrating, embarrassing and oddest thing.
He turned to take his car keys and turned back towards the front door, the guards stopped him.
"Sir, you're not allowed anywhere until tomorrow morning at 6am in the studio."
"I need to go to the hospital."
He gritted through his teeth. The guards didn't even blink at his anger.
"Sir, you're not allowed anywhere until tomorrow morning at 6am in the studio."
The other one said, still holding onto Frans' shaking shoulder. He shrugged his hands off, sending daggers at his way.
"Yeah I heard that, but I really need to go to the hospital you knuckleheads!"
"Sir, you're not allowed-"
Frans turned away and stomped upstairs, he needed to calm down. His room was clean, spotless even, but he hardly turned his attention to it.
He pulled his bathroom door shut and turned on the lights, the luxury of the room didn't matter to him. A man does not need gold or fanciness to live, a man simply needs water and warmth to stay alive. And well, possibly a woman as well.
He stepped in the shower and sat town, turning on the water he rested his head on his knees. His body was demanding for sleep, his limbs were heavy, his eyelids shutting on their own accord and his stomach growling of hunger.
But it was his mind that refused to rest, it was running wild, his thoughts swirling into gigantic hurricanes and like a wave of tsunami, one thought suffocated others. He must check up on Freddie as soon as possible or else he can't get any shut eye for awhile.
