Starquake - A Louis Tomlinson Fanfiction

Everyone is talking about Louis Tomlinson these days. If it isn't because he's playing the lead in a new movie, he's most certainly smacked onto the front page of the tabloids - and most likely not for a very good cause, nor in a very heroic way. The fame that automatically comes along being one of the world's biggest actors has gone to his head, and saying that the boy with origin from Doncaster has become a diva would be some of an understatement. Louis never planned on something pulling him back down towards earth's surface, and never in his wildest dreams had he imagined it would be love. But how can you overcome the obstacles of loving someone once you have become addicted to the money, the girls and the attention that comes with the posh lifestyle?

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1. Part One


"Troy, when is this going to get through your thick skull? I'm not gonna attend that stupid film premiere - why would I like to spend my evening with a bunch of retarded idiots when I could be sitting back home at Buckingham Palace sipping tea with the Queen? I bet she wouldn't mind me spilling a few random secrets every now and then to the tabloids." 

"Louis, that's not funny." 

For a second I felt an urge to cut off my manager's annoying, scratchy voice by ending the phone call, but then I came to the conclusion that it probably wasn't a good idea. If I should end our conversation in a rude way, I should do it properly. So, I took a deep breath and pulled myself together just in time for his voice to crack over the speaker again: 

"You know you have to go. The movie is only going to get a few good reviews if you show up and convince the reporters that it's actually good." 

"You bet I don't have to go." Shortly, I considered that maybe the movie was actually good, but then I thought about its insanely bad casting and changed my mind. "And if I'm not going, the reporters might actually get an excellent perspective of the film by realizing how shitty it is." 

There was a short lived silence. It was as if I could hear the big, bald man on the other end run a hand through his non-existing hair and hopelessly shaking his judgmental head at me. 

"Louis . . . why can't you just for once collaborate with me?" 

"How many times do I have to tell you? I'm not going!" 

And with that comment, I hung up on him. I knew Troy pretty well - he was used to me doing this kind of stuff. 

Carefully I seized the steaming hot cardboard cup in front of me from the machine, bringing it with me up to the cash register. I payed for the coffee sloppily and without earning myself any kind of eye contact with the cashier. Within my career I had quickly learned that being reserved and disguising yourself was the key to not getting mobbed by fans or get any kind of unwanted attention - which, surprisingly enough, was why my eyes were hid behind a pair of black RayBans and my hair covered by the hood of my jacket in this very moment. 

I had barely made my exit through the shop's sliding doors before my phone ringed again. Signaling me that the somebody who wanted to get in touch me was Zayn, I put the phone against my ear and answered the call. 

"What's up, mate?" 

"You're going to be at the movie premiere tonight, right?" I heard him say, and I sighed through gritted teeth. What the hell was up with this premiere? Everyone was talking about it and trying to persuade me to come. Something told me that they just couldn't take a hint when I told them no. They kept on calling me, asking me another time as if they wanted to be sure. I was sick of it. Even when the caller this time was my best friend. 

"Which movie premiere?" 

"The Dragon & Its Thorns. Now don't be stupid with me." 

All right, maybe the acting unknowingly hadn't been the best idea of mine yet. But I kept on going, "I'm not. I honestly just don't know a shit about this thing you're talking about." 

"Of course you do." Zayn sounded slightly annoyed. 

"No, I don't." 

"Okay, what if I say Kendall's going to be there?" 

"I don't give a shit about Kendall." 

"I know you do, and that's why you have to go. Besides, I'm going and we can take off as soon as we've seen the movie. No after parties is needed for us - we're the elite, mate, we can go wherever you want."

I had to admit that the guy could always manage to mix up my perspective a bit when he really wanted to. Like now: Going out for drinks with a lad had always been great fun, and when it was Zayn Malik I was taking with me, I was immediately promised not to have a bad time. 

"Ugh, I'll do it. Fuck you, though." 

I could almost hear the smooth grin in his voice when he spoke, "I'll see you at the carpet later, then. Don't forget to meet up with Kendall before everything goes down, ok?" 

"Bye, Zayn." 

With a sigh I hung up the phone. I guess I was going to that stupid premiere anyway. 

I was just casually drifting off into my own thoughts and keeping my stare safely fastened on the ground, when I turned a corner a bit too sharply and the disaster happened. With the blurred lines of a stressed out vision, I crashed right into a girl passing me by. Clumsily she knocked the cardboard cup out of my hand, and I heard her whimper when the hot coffee drenched through her thin summer dress and burned her skin. The cup fell to the ground where it spilled my last drops of coffee across the slightly dirty sidewalk. 

I looked down my clothes; nothing was stained with brown liquid, so I guess that meant I'd gotten fairly good away with the incident. Yet, I couldn't manage to hold in an annoyed sigh: This was not how my afternoon ought to be. 

Finally, I turned to the girl who had rushed into me - or, well maybe I had rushed into her, but what's the difference anyway? I would say we got pretty much shit out of the situation either way around. 

"Are you hurt?" 

"No," she said and moved a bit around to reassure herself that she was good, "No, I think I'm all right." 

At usual times this wasn't the girl I would shoot another glance, but now that I really saw her face because I had to interact with her in some kind of way, I realized she was one of those girls with an . . . I don't know how to describe it, exotic look? Maybe she was here in London on some kind of a vacation? 

No, it couldn't be. Her accent was way too British and she probably would have walked the streets of SoHo if she was a tourist, not the most Northern streets of London around Euston. 

"Good," I simply replied her. Then, I picked the now completely empty and cool coffee cup up from the ground and rose it to her point of view, which was not very high, because her height could only reach the top of my chest - at most. I overdramatized a fake polite smile before trashing the cup in a bin beside us. 

"Why thank you," I said, still holding onto the fakeness of my smile. Her lips parted slightly as she sighed. 

"I'm so sorry," she told me and by the look of her face, she actually made me believe in her words. The girl's eyebrows furrowed slightly as she seized off into her own thoughts. For a moment, she seemed to consider rather she should tell me what was on her mind, but at last she decided to look back at me. 

"I work just a two minutes walk down from Euston Square. I think I owe you a cup of coffee, or whatever I just made you spill," she proposed and made a gesture toward her dress soaked awkwardly with light-brown liquid. 

"I'm busy."

"But -" 

"No, I don't think you understand. I don't have the time. I have to be somewhere very important in a matter of few short hours." 

"I'll pay you a cab. Just please accept my offer and I'll get you another coffee," she insisted. "I know I'll feel bad about myself if I choose to overlook the fact that I should do you this one favor. You can take it as one of those random acts of kindness, I guess. I do way to few of those anyway." 

I sighed. Rolling my eyes, I dug my hands into my jean jacket's pockets and gestured toward her in surrender. Clearly, she got my way of thinking, because soon enough we had walked down the last few meters of Tottenham Court Road and crossed Euston Square from where on she lead me down a more discreet street. It was one of those with few people on the sidewalks and almost no buildings that were used for anything else besides living. The only exception was maybe a small café a little further down the street. It was strange how this street was neighbor to one of the city's most known boulevards, but still as narrow and dark, yet cozy, almost as the street I once lived in back home in Doncaster. 

Doncaster

Home? 

I wasn't that sure of where my home was any longer. 

The girl whose name I still hadn't caught stopped by the small café I had seen earlier and unlocked its old wooden door with a sign saying "we're closed". Eyes taking in the looks of the room, I stepped inside after her. 

The shop was as small as I'd expected it to be. A few tables were neatly placed around the room and at the rear end of the back wall I noticed a small serving bar. Behind it, I could catch a glimpse of a kitchen. The lights were switched off, so that the only lighting escaping into the room was the rays of sunlight slipping through the window shutters. The place seemed to be nothing extraordinary and the many dark brown shades the theme had going on reminded me a bit of those old diners I'd visited last time I was in Illinois. 

The girl flinched out of place suddenly and started toward a narrow hallway beside the kitchen. I followed in her footsteps. She lead me on down the hallway and through a door on our right hand. I couldn't keep a frown from making its way to my face when I saw that we were standing in a simple bedroom, colors drained by a single window in the most outer wall.

"Wait, you live here?" I questioned. 

She smiled slightly before pulling out a drawer and picking up a white lace shirt. 

"The café's a family business. I've lived here all my life." She stood up straight and waved a hand dismissingly at me. "Hey, mind stepping back out while I change?"

"Sure," I spoke with a sigh and stepped back out of the doorway to offer her some privacy.

I took a look at my watch and cursed silently. Damn, that dumb-ass premiere was in one and a half hour, and I was still stuck here in this building, waiting for a generous cup of coffee I should never have accepted. I hope this girl knew just how busy I were. 

God, I really was a good man for doing this thing for her. 

My stare had been fastened on an oil painting further down the hallway, but then my eyes accidentally scrolled past a mirror hanging on the wall inside the room and caught on her reflection staring back at me. Her body was stunning and left me breathless; stomach flat and her skin a matte shade of bronze. Something about her made me want to reach out and brush my fingertips past her shoulder, as if something drove me towards her. I could almost feel the softness of her silky skin just by perceiving her. Long strands of dark brown hair floated down her flawless back's curves, stopping right above the characteristics of her small waist. The sunlight shone through the room's window gracefully and spilt across her body like a beautiful gold.

Then all of a sudden, she slipped the top over her head and turned back toward the door. Luckily, my reflections were fast enough and I got to squeeze my eyelids shut before she saw me standing there staring at her.

"You can open your eyes now," she said and moved past me in the doorway. I kept still for another moment or two before I unfroze and followed after her. 

I didn't regret what I just did the slightest. I was used to seeing half-naked women. It didn't really matter to me if I saw a stranger strip in front of me - after all, I couldn't help that it had happened. It was completely by accident I saw her standing there in the mirror. I swear, all right.

She was already behind the bar when I got back into the main room of the café. While she was busy pulling handles on machines, and doing a lot of other complicated stuff I couldn't really focus my mind around, to make me my mentioned cup of coffee, I leaned against the counter. Tilting my head a bit sideways, I regarded her face. Almond brown eyes, faintly pink and thin lips and again, a flawless olive skin. She really was - what had I called her earlier? Oh yes, exotic. In a good way, of course, with the glossy dark hair falling elegantly down her shoulders and the high-heeled, black summer sandals wrapped around her unusually small feet.

Her looks made me recognize something in the back of my mind, like I had seen her before. Maybe I'd dated a girl who looked like her once?

Oh, yes, there was that one Hispanic model I'd slept with when I visited Barcelona last time I was there to promote a film. They looked a bit alike. Same long legs, same flawless skin. 

"You know, you seem strangely familiar," I told her and my words made a small smile show on her face. 

"No, you're the one that seems familiar." 

She finished making the coffee and poured the substance into a cardboard cup looking very much alike the one I had dropped earlier. Because of her. Then she turned and placed it in front of me with a move of elegance.

"You've seen my movies?"

She made a weird noise from the back of her throat. I didn't know whether to classify it as amusing or taunting. 

"Of course I've seen your movies. You're the actor of our generation."

I took a sip of the coffee and was pleasantly surprised when I found it completely delicious. It was one of those well-brewed kinds of coffee, the one that left you with a bitter yet wonderful taste of coffee beans on your tongue. Even when I lowered the cup from lips, the smell of creamy milk and brown sugar lingered in my nostrils. 

"This is extraordinary," I said and lifted the cardboard cup a little. The look on her face changed instantly when I ignored her compliment, so with a point of my finger and a bored expression I quickly added, "And that's very big words coming from such a small girl." 

"It doesn't change the truth in them." 

"Oh, I'm flattered," I sarcastically spoke in a flat tone.

Suddenly, something in her behavior changed. As if I had flicked a switch, she turned toward me with a stiff body posture and a frown on her face. The tea towel she had been holding onto was harshly thrown away on the desk in front of me, and I flinched back, not giving in to showing the surprise I felt on my face. Her almond brown eyes stared into mine with a strange kind of eagerness.

"You're an asshole, do you know that?" 

"I am not!" 

"Yes, you are. Have you ever considered just being polite to someone?"

"I'm always polite, love." 

"No, you would have asked me my name a long time ago if you were." 

"What's your name?" 

Her eyes grew ever bigger and she sighed resignedly at me. "See, now you're doing it again." 

I ignored her comment and kept on insisting. "Your name." 

"Michela. Happy?" 

"Oh, I'm delighted. I assume you know mine?" 

"Louis Douche Tomlinson?" 

A huge grin made its way to my face as I shrugged off her insult. "Whatever, people adore me more than life anyway. I actually think I saw a Facebook group related to me once saying, 'Tommofaith' - they had created a religion for me or something." 

Michela tilted her head sideways and smiled one of the most fake smiles I have ever seen. "Wow, that's so hilarious." 

"I know," I coolly spoke. "I know."

 

 

Four minutes later a cab rolled up against the curb outside the café. I was fast on placing myself in the nearest seat and slamming the door shut behind me. When I saw Michela's long legs approaching me, I rolled down the window a little, so that if she said something to me it wouldn't be as if I'd pressed her on mute. She bended down toward the window and handed me a few bills through the space. 

Oh right, I'd almost forgot to claim those.

I stuck the money in my jean's pocket with a smirk on my face.

"Well, thank you for the coffee," I simply said and raised my nearly empty cup a little. "It doesn't taste so bad." 

Michela just raised an eyebrow and let another sigh escape her. She did that a lot, didn't she?

"At least I don't feel bad about myself any longer. I did someone a nice favor and that's how far as it goes for today."

Her hand rapped twice against the car's roof, and the taxi skid to a start and hurled down the street. The sudden speed made a wild wind rush through the open window and I felt my hair wobble out of place. With a forceful movement of my hand I rapidly rolled the window back up and into place. Leaning back in my seat, I precisely ran a few careful fingers through my chestnut-brown hair. Few seconds later the quiff was as good as new. 

My hair was one of the many qualities that gave me the ability to sweep girls off their feet. Therefore, it was very important that it stayed in place so it got to have the chance of looking as fantastic as it did. 

A glance at my iPhone's clock made me aware of how little time I had left until I had to be at that half-witted premiere. More or so I had to be at the red carpet in 45 minutes, and I still hadn't found anything proper to wear while the traffic of London always was like a true nightmare at this point of day. 

The visit to the gloomy yet cozy café hadn't been a complete waste of time, though. A brilliant cup of coffee and 10 pounds was really not a bad profit.

 


 

"I promise you won't regret doing this, mate," Zayn said and sent a perfect smile in my direction. My eyes were blinded by the white teeth, but I kept on staring through the brightness. "Just wait till the after party. It's going to be sick."

"Yes, that's pretty much why I chose to go, you idiot."

"Don't talk to him like that!" Kendall barked from beside me. I turned around in my seat to regard her. For a second I had to take a deep breath and keep myself from letting everything out on her again. I could see how my words had started to affect her, and not in a positive way, so I chose to take it easy on her - for now only, of course, because it didn't necessarily mean I had to be a nice guy and stop provoking her. 

Provoking her was my hobby. 

"Sorry, babe, it's just that he's my best friend and being in this certain position I can allow myself to say to him whatever I want. You get that, don't you?"

I said the last part with a stupid smile on my face as if she was a small child I was trying to teach a lesson.

Kendall didn't snap anything back at me. I turned away with a sense of self-confidence in the back of my mind, but out of the corner of my eye I saw her rolling her eyes at me. 

We were only a few good meters away from Leicester Square, the placing of the red carpet and the movie theatre. According to the noises from outside, I'd been able to guess we were close since many blocks back. The roar from the press, the photographers and the screaming fans all mixed together could always only classify two things: One, that the media was close, or two, that I was getting some very unwanted attention and that I should try to run from it while I still had the chance. 

In this case it was all about smiling and acting nicely, because we were in the first situation of those named above. 

The limo slowly stopped moving, and we all knew that we had arrived. I heard myself ask yet another question before I'd even noticed the words slipping from my lips. 

"Wait, what's the movie called again?" 

"The Dragon & Its Thorns," Kendall said and rolled her eyes. "God, you're hopeless."

"You two go first," Zayn said and gestured toward the door on Kendall's right hand. He cockily raised his eyebrows with a strange smirk planted on his lips. To everyone else, the action would seem pointless and unimportant, but to me it meant something completely different. He was my best friend, and I could see through him better than anyone else. 

I hated it when he pulled that certain face in front of Kendall, because I could always see how there was dirty thoughts hidden behind his mask of perfection.

Zayn thought there was something going on between Kendall and I. And I understood why; she was the #1 hottest TV actress in whole Britain, and we did actually fit each other pretty good on some points.

Tonight she was wearing her golden blond and silky waves in a loose bun at the bottom of her small, heart-shaped head, the adoringly crystal blue eyes framed by a long pair of eyelashes. The black dress she wore only left very little to the imagination - not that I minded at all, though. Her body was delicious, and everyone, herself included, knew. 

But Zayn was wrong. The feelings I had for Kendall was basically a big, fat zero. None.

For more than 3 months now, he had believed that we had something going on - which was partly true and at the same time incredibly annoying, because I didn't want anything to do with her besides the sex. We'd hooked up a couple of different times at parties and a few other occasions, but basically we'd just been there for each other whenever we felt lonely. None of us were the type who wanted to commit to someone, and clearly Zayn didn't get that. Which, by now, was really pissing me off.

Kendall's hand fell on the door handle, and she pushed the limo's door open. I followed straight behind, and we were met by a wall of lights so bright it blinded my eyes. It was to my luck that I by now had become immune to the cameras' flashes and could blink through the moment without feeling my eyes getting watery because of the brightness. 

I walked up behind Kendall and slipped my arm around her waist as we moved up the carpet. It was a slow walk because the tabloid and blog reporters kept trying to get our attention and photographers screaming at us to pose for one more picture, but we didn't stop to answer any questions and only took a short series of pictures with different paparazzi's.

I didn't mind that everyone would now think that Kendall and I were together. If they didn't already, they certainly would tomorrow; by then it would be all over the internet and the daily tabloid magazines' front pages. Throughout the past month or so Perez Hilton, his bad sense of humor and his ugly facial hair had already insisted that we were dating. 

I couldn't care less about what the media thought of Kendall. And even less what they thought of me. 

It wasn't like I hadn't tried going to an event with a girl to get more mention in the media before. You can blame Mr Troy My-Manager for those previous times.

Suddenly we were inside the closing doors to the movie theater and the loud noises from outside were cut off by a quiet lounge music and people sipping cocktails and small-talking around the room.

"Hey guys," Zayn said as he approached us with that annoying smirk playing on his lips again.

What a perverted bitch.

He placed himself so close to us that I was forced to press my arm and shoulder tighter up against Kendall's. Quickly it came to my notice that Zayn hadn't just placed himself where he stood by coincidence - he had done it on purpose and was now trying to make me stand as close as possible with Kendall, who oddly enough didn't seem to notice that anything was out of place.

She was used to me being so close to her anyway.

For some reason, I decided to get into Zayn's game. My hand moved from her hot, naked back and further down, until it reached her bum. As if on a clue, I squeezed it tightly just in time for Kendall to notice what I was doing.

She almost flew away from me.

"Louis!" she exclaimed with huge, blue eyes. "What the hell are you doing? We're in fucking public!"

"Don't make a big deal out of it, love."

"See, that's exactly what it is: A big deal. We don't want the press to get some actual real proof about any of this!"

"Screw them," I said.

"No, screw you." She said the last word as if it was a swearword.

And God, if it turned me on.

My eyes scrolled down her body from head to toe; the fair skin, the perfect curves and the sexy lips. I smirked.

"You know you'd like to."

"You know what?" Kendall took a step closer toward me and tapped a long, thin finger at my shirt. "This thing, whatever we've got going on, I'm done with it."

Then she turned and walked away with her hair swinging down her back in the loose bun.

I looked to my right, and saw that Zayn already was staring at me. For a second, we just stared at each other with blank expressions. Then, we broke out laughing.

This was the second chick flip we'd provoked within the last three weeks. The funny thing was, we knew they would always come back begging for more.

 

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