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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24. "They Don't Know About Us"

 

>>Gabrielle<<

 

As Louis goes into the part of the song that’s his solo, the crowd goes crazy. The high-pitched, girly screams always seem to outdo the past ones. Thank God I’m wearing my earplugs; if not, I might have been deaf by now.

My fingers run over the keyboard’s tangents in a fast pace, having to push them down in just the right rhythm for the boys to finish their last song of the night, “They Don’t Know About Us”. I love being on-stage and playing music, but right in this moment the many performances has gotten me so tired that I’m doubting if I’m going to faint if I rise from my chair. Maybe I should’ve brought more water bottles with me to the stage…

What keeps me holding on is the thought of what’s awaiting me after the show. After Niall before the gig’s opening begged to get ice cream, the boys and I decided that since we couldn’t get one right there and then, we’d just go somewhere to grab a bite after the show was wrapped up and finished. I don’t know what it is, but something about those boys can always manage to put a smile on my face.

As we enter the last verse of the song, the boys voices blends together as if they were one. Just like the usual, they sound beautiful.

I spot Harry glancing over at me, a small smile spreading on his lips as he holds tightly onto the microphone that makes his deep, raspy voice echo through the enormous arena.

They don’t know I’ve waited all my life,

Just to find a love that feels this right,

Baby, they don’t know about,

They don’t know about us.”

With the help of Zayn I finish off the song with a few wary, sliding movements of my fingers on the keyboard’s black and white tangents. “Thank you, Bercy!” Liam applauds, yelling out the last word with a French accent that actually doesn’t sound too bad—thinking that it’s him we're talking about, of course. “You were amazing, we love you all so mu—”

Before Liam can get to finish his sentence, Harry abruptly erupts. “You know what, Liam?” he says as he walks over to Liam and puts a hand on his shoulder, a cheeky edge in his voice. He looks into his eyes, clearly playing along for the insane audience thrown at his feet. “Something in the lyrics we just sang has changed tonight…I can relate, you know?”

Oh no. He’s not going there, is he?

Harry backs away from Liam, an invincible smile playing on his lips. He knows he has me right were he wants me to, pinned to the spot; I can’t leave before they can. “I would like to dedicate ‘They Don’t Know About Us’ to Gabrielle,” he finally blurts out, gesturing towards my position by the piano with clear motions. I can sense from the corner of my eye how every single teenage girl's head snap in my direction to take a long look. Harry turns his head towards me, his beautiful chestnut brown curls dancing in the swift movement. Even from the distance I can spot the sense of warmness in his green eyes, and for a moment it’s like we’re completely alone in the arena, just us. “My beautiful girlfriend.”

I can’t help but blush when I hear the sudden awe from the crowd. I’m pleasantly surprised none of the Directioners out there started coming with any angry burps—after all, it would’ve been understandable if they did. Said straight off, I have taken one of their men.

“Goodnight Paris! It’s been a blast!” Zayn yelps, turning his back to the crowd to exit the stage with the other boys; except Harry, who keeps still in position.

He walks over to me in a few swift footsteps, pulls me up from my piano chair, grabs me by the hand and pulls me after him out towards the stage-exit right behind us. We haven’t even stepped as much as one step out of the crowd’s visual field before he pushes me up against the white brick-wall behind us and smashes his lips against mine. He’s on fire tonight.

Caressing my cheekbone, he slowly breaks away. Leaf green eyes peering into mine, he whispers, “You know how hard it is to control myself when you’re presence is so close to me throughout a whole concert? I tell you, it’s goddamn hard.”

A giggle escapes me. “Oh, I could imagine.” My eyes fall to the ground in a brief stare when my eyebrows move together in a furrowed line. “Why’d you do that out there?”

A weak smile shows upon his lips as he tugs in some of my loose, dark-brown hair behind my ear. “It had to get out at some point.”

“You’re crazy,” I smile, playfully driving my hand through his soft curls. “A complete mad-man.”

That cheeky spark ignites in his eyes as he lightly pecks my lips, eyes half-closed. “But you like it.”
I bite by lip and place my hands around his neck, pulling him a bit closer. The last thing I get to say before his lips again meet mine is a simple, but yet secure, “Yeah, I might.”

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