"Everything that's broke
leave it to the breeze.
Why don't you be you
and I'll be me."
- James Bay

***

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 that day -

"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.

"This chicken is cooked perfectly." Freddie said calmly, eating his pasta and offering her a smile, to calm her down. Freddie had his own restaurant, so he definitely knew how good food tasted and Annie was a great cook. "No it isn't, I refuse to eat this." The youngest of brothers pushed the plate away, his stomach screaming at him to take it pack right away. But Frans just held his head higher, trying to intimidate the couple. Annie gave him annoyed look, but before she could say anything, Freddie beat her do it. "And since when do you know anything about cooking? Little brother?"

Frans rolled his eyes at the use of little brother."since when I got personal cooking lessons from Gordon Ramsay, brother." he smirked at him, noticing the annoyance. He knew how this might hurt him, after all, Ramsay was Freddie's role-model. "Oh so now you know not to boil cereal and not to fry pasta, huh?" the older of two grumpily answered, glaring at Frans.

He did not feel pleased at all. But he knew he had to push harder. "Of course, Fredrick, of course.
So Annie? How's your job? You're working with, uh, kids? Children, right?"

He asked casually, resting his head on his knuckles. Smirking evilly at her.
Annie was obviously annoyed.

"Children, well, yes, teenagers more likely. Around your age. " She said calmly, even though she was clutching her seat.

Frans had pushed the right button it seems. "Yeah, teenagers, right. You know all those you keep torturing with your boring math- oh wait, was it history you were teaching?" He asked, looking as bored as ever.

"It is history. And for your information, they are all brilliant individuals. You better watch your mouth, I don't care how famous you are, get that attitude of yours in check, buddy!"

She hissed, and half way through her speech, she had stood up and leaned closer to Frans. Her usually joyful eyes filled with something close to disappointment. Frans had seen this look so often lately it made him sick.

"Okey Annie, I won't offend that boring job of yours anymore. But I've still got you one question. How come you are doing nothing with yourself? Is really a stupid teachers job and a man with anxiety problems really what you want?" Frans asked, winking at Annie whose eyes were now filled with hatred. "-or you know, if you happen to get bored you should have my number."

Suddenly Freddie jumped up, he was furious. His knuckles were white from gripping the table so hard. "You are not my brother." Fredrick hissed, narrowing his brown eyes. Frans felt much worse then he did before, and even though he was smiling, there was rally sick feeling in his stomach.
That sick feeling forced him up and to bathroom, where Frans emptied his stomach from the little food he had eaten. Even after that, he kept gagging when nothing came out. He heard footstep approaching, but he paid no interest to who it was.

Frans knew he was not sick, it was just stress messing with his body. Just stress.
He rested his head on the cold toilet seat, feeling a bit too weak to jump to his feet. The darkness was really comforting and the cold helped to calm down his heart.

"Frans?" It was Freddie. Fuck what was he supposed to do? Frans felt the familiar feeling wanting to cry. But he cant cry, and he won't. "I'm late for rehearsals." He pushed himself up, managing to push all the emotions away just for a little while. As he hurried past his brother, Freddie took his wrist firmly. Forcing Frans to look him in the eyes. Before Freddie could utter a word, Frans beat him do it. "Get out of my life. I want nothing to do with you anymore. From now on, we are two complete strangers." Frans growled, glaring at his surprised brother. He pulled his arm away and almost ran Annie over. Frans stopped, looking Annie with apologizing eyes. He couldn't hold his emotions back any longer, so he shot past the woman, feeling her smooth fingers trying to catch him. But it was useless.
Stepping into the nights air, Frans felt a lonely tear run down his pale cheek.

- Presence -

Rehearsals didn't go good as well, he forgot his song lyrics on stage and managed to piss the director off with his sarcastic answers. So now they want to punish Frans. And the best way to do it is to send him out for the night. Yes him, not his lookalike.

So there he is, gulping down all kinds of different alcohol drinks, trying so hard to find pleasure in alcohol.
Soon enough he felt more relaxed and... Alive. He pushed his jackets hood off and ordered the strongest drink they had. After gulping it down, he hopped down from the bar stool and made his way to the dance floor. As he dances his way to the middle, he often heard surprised gasps but ignored them completely. Immediately he was surrounded by dancing and flirtatious girls, they touched his body, his hair and suddenly pair of lips attacked his own. The girl fought for dominance but Frans only smirked at that. He snaked his arms around the girls slim waist, feeling smooth skin under his hands. His tongue ran over her lips, almost like ordering for entrance, the girl immediately let him battle with her tongue.
Her hands running through Frans' dark curls, pulling them hard what sent sparks of hot electricity through him. Another pair of lips attacked his neck, kissing and licking just the right spot. He felt bliss, this felt like heaven and hell all at the same time. Alcohol, sweaty bodies, music and adrenaline.

When the girl pulled away, Frans noticed even few males trying to dance with him, but his vision was too blurry to understand completely. Alcohol on empty stomach is never good.

And so the night went on, he danced and kissed countless times, ordering drinks to random people. Soon he somehow found his way outside, emptying his stomach in the dark alley. He stumbled in the dark streets, not understanding where he was going exactly. Or was he even going anywhere? Maybe he was just going in circles?

He pumped into someone small

"oh my god, I'm sorry sir!"

Worried female voice said, obviously panicking. But Frans just fell on the cold ground out cold, his limbs I  odd angles. He had drank way too much. "Sir?" The girl crouched down "oh my god, don't be dead. Please don't be dead." The girl shook him with shaking fingers, but Frans still didn't wake up. It was time to panic now.

She pulled her phone out and called only person she could think of. As she answered, the stranger yelled in panic "Vika I think I killed a stranger!"