We'll Always Have Paris - A Harry Styles Fanfiction

Gabrielle Moreau is a 19-year old French girl living in Paris, the “capital of love”. To most people she looks ordinary, but behind her high-built façade hides a girl that suffers. She tries to shut the inferior sides of her life out by doing the things she loves and letting her thoughts circle around something elsewhere—and she succeeds in focusing on the good things in life flawlessly.
When Gabrielle an early morning gets a call from One Direction’s manager, who offers her the opportunity of working with them on their summer tour in Paris, she immediately replies him with a yes. She doesn’t know it just yet, but within the next few months she will get to grow a close bond to each of the boys in the band—and particularly one of them. Before she knows it, Gabrielle has been thrown into something she this time won’t be able to pull herself out of … Will she finally start opening herself up to someone and let them in without any conditions? **Check out the trailer in the right sidebar**

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3. Gather around, class!

 

I place my elbow on the small metal door handle and push it down in a swift movement, making the door fly open with a click. I stumble through the doorway, holding tightly onto the briefcase pressed in between my arms, being careful not to loose grip of it. I quickly regain my balance and move on into the classroom, in which my students are already sitting patiently waiting for me to start the class. I love my work, but sometimes I can get a bit troubled on getting there in time: You can never count on the alarm clock in your head or the Parisian metro.

I work at one of Paris many English-speaking international schools, teaching in the class music. A lot of people think I as a normal 19-year old girl is too young for the job, but after witnessing one of my classes they usually change their minds about me. It’s not that I have high thoughts about myself—all I know is that I have loved to play music ever since I was a little girl and that I’m not afraid to admit that my students are fond of me.

In my class there is only middle school students. They aren’t older than the age of nine, but oh boy: How they love to play music and talk. I am fond of them, too—if you listen to a nine-year-old girl or boy’s laughter, you can’t help but to think otherwise. They are all so adorable, like the tiniest kittens you just want to take in your arms and look at for hours in cause of their cuteness.

The only thing that can possibly be bad about the school might be the old, smelly and misjudging principal Mr. Evans. He is the only originally English teacher of the school’s staff, but I think his manners are worse than an offended Frenchmen’s. I like to call him the Poop. Don’t ask me why. I might just have taken the name from my students.  

“You’re late miss Moreau,” Maria, a little black-haired girl to my right, comments. “But it’s all right, ‘cause we just sat and talked for a bit. And it doesn’t matter, because you’re here now!” I send a smile in her direction as I walk up to the black piano in the middle of the classroom and drop my notes off on the music rack, before settling myself down on the soft piano bench.

“So,” I say and clap my hands together, as I turn towards the class. “Today is a special day.”

“Why is it a special day, miss Moreau? Is it your birthday?” Henri, a small-built boy, asks me. “Because then I’m sorry. I have forgotten to bake you a birthday-muffin!”

“No, no, don’t worry! Today’s not my birthday. I just have some exciting and important news to tell you all.” I observe as their faces turns into plain amusement; they always got so excited when I told them I had good news.

“This morning I got a great offer of playing the piano for a certain band on their summer tour. This is a great opportunity for me—you know how I’ve always wished to live of my music, right? I tell you guys, this might be my chance. I think it’s worth a shot, even though I unfortunately will have to give up on a lot of the time I have with you guys.”

The amusement on their faces gets wiped off within the moment and replaced with a clear dejection. A chorus of sad voices rises in the room, quickly and unanimously overlapping each other.

“What?”

“No, please stay!”

“Please don’t leave us with a bad teacher!”

“But we need you here, miss!”

When I raise my hand to make the complains stop, every student in the room immediately goes quiet. “You aren’t going to see me as much as you’re used to, but I’m still going to be here most of the time,” I say to them, hoping they will understand. There are some things you can expect from nine-year-olds, but this is not one of them. “Okay?” 

Their heads still hang a little, but they seem to have stopped thinking over the fact that I won’t be able to see them as much as usual.

A boy in the rather back raises his hand. “Excuse me miss, but if I may ask, what band are you going to tour with?”

“One Direction,” I tell him.

That’s when I see all of my student’s faces light up in genuine joy. A few of the girls slams their hands over their mouth to hold in a squeal, while others aren’t afraid to open their mouths and let it out. Nevertheless, both boys and girls are looking startled.

“Is it really true, miss Moreau? Are you going to support the One Direction for a whole summer?” a girl blurts out. I nod in response.

Then hell breaks loose.

“Please, get me Niall’s autograph!”

“Tell Liam I love him!”

“Make Louis do his cool dance moves!”

“Cut me a lock of Harry’s curls!”

“Take a picture with Zayn for me!”

“Make them record a video for me!”

I made them silent by raising my hand once again. My ears are aching, but at least I now know how to cheer nine-year-olds up when they are in a grumpy mood: Just say the words “One Direction” and BOOM; a magic spell makes them overall happy.

A girl raises her hand and politely asks me, “Who’s your favorite, Miss Moreau?”

I just stand there like the stupid, unknowing person that I am. Whilst wondering of what to reply her, I pull off a half-hearted ignorant smile. Because the truth is that I don’t have a clue of what to answer her question with: I have only heard of One Direction a couple of times before. I have understood that they are big in pretty much every place from the States to Japan, but I still don’t know them … not even their names or exact looks. 

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