aimharold

[aimharold]

[aimharold]

Harry: Lou?

Louis: …

Harry: Louis?

Louis: …

Harry: …

Louis: …

Harry: HEY YOU SEXY BEAST

Louis: Yes, love?

[aimharold]

Part 5 please😭😭😭😭

i’m so glad you like diner soundtrack so far... i am currently working on it and i’m hoping i could finish it by today :))

 thanks for the support here’s a baymax fist bump from me hehehhee

[aimharold]

I need part 5

i'm so sorry for the delay i am currently working on it 😄👍 just hold on a bit

[aimharold]

[aimharold]

x

[aimharold]

Diner Soundtrack

-Part 5! Sorry it took so long :(

“You can’t be babysitting on a Saturday night!” Beth shrieks on the other line of the phone. I much rather preferred Beth back when she didn’t make an effort on talking to me. Now, she just drags me along to every party she wants to go to.

“Too late, I’m already having fun getting this little brat to eat something for dinner,” I say, holding up a yellow spoon towards Tiffany’s infant mouth while balancing my phone on my shoulders.

“You sound miserable,” Beth states the obvious which I roll my eyes at.

“Of course I am miserable,” I groan. “Come on, you have got to help me in here.”

Tiffany just stares at me with her big almond eyes and shoves the spoon away with her tiny hands. Great.

“Um, no thanks I’m in a party.”

“I wasn’t talking to you,” I say. 

“Come on, Grace, it’s almost the break,” Beth tells me. “You have to live a little.”

“I am living and though it irritates me to a great amount, I have to earn extra money for Christmas. I told you about my money-eating parents. They wouldn’t let it pass if I don’t send money especially that I won’t be spending the holidays with them.”

“Okay, fine, okay,” Beth sighs. “Well, in that case, I’ll see you tomorrow morning then?”

“Sure, yeah.”

“Hope everything’s going fine there,” Beth says, her voice full of concern.

“Hardly,” I laugh and hang up.

“Tif, come on buddy,” I plead the toddler and took her hands and shook it. She always laughed when I do that. “You have to eat or else your parents are going to skewer me. Please?”

She bounced up and down and tapped on the plane of her high chair. 

“Okay now you’re happy so let’s eat!”

Once I fed her the apple custard porridge, she obediently chews it. “Good girl.”

I was about to sigh in utter relief when she suddenly hurls the whole thing. So now, I’m not only pissed but I’m also covered in acrid infant vomit. Fantastic.

I lowered my head and looked Tiffany straight in the eye. “You hate me so much, don’t you.” She begins clapping and laughing.

“Yeah, I think we’re on the same page,” I sigh and unstrapped her from the chair and took her upstairs to clean up and wash.

It was past nine that I finally got myself cleaned up and Tiffany was already asleep in her parents’ bed. Turns out, she only wanted her milk for dinner. Tiffany was Dover’s niece and I always babysit her when I have a free time and her parents are usually out of town so when they get the chance, they call me. I sighed and propped down on the couch and decided to read through my messages.

One was from Beth saying,

Harry is here, looking for you btw

My body jolts into wakefulness and I sit up, squinting at my old phone’s screen. I wasn’t delirious despite my drowsiness and I was sure of that because I kept on rereading the text Beth has sent me and it still read the same.

As far as I know, Harry wasn’t much of a social person and parties are certainly not on his list of go-to leisures and he told me once that he liked to be alone so it was pretty intriguing that he was in a party on a Saturday night.

Really? I replied back.

Or maybe Beth was just drunk, like she always is whenever she attends a party. It’s not like it means anything right? Harry is looking for me, no big deal. 

But it kind of is.

I like him, like a lot and its been killing me. I’ve never been the one to handle infatuations well; I tend to get miserable and impulsive once I’m crushing on someone and sometimes, it doesn’t do me good.

For hours, I’ve waited for Beth’s response but apparently that’s a lost cost since it was already past two and not one message from her did I receive. I tried to sleep but I ended up tossing and turning.

“Grace,” I woke up, startled. It was Tracy, Tiffany’s mother. 

“Oh, hey, Tracy,” I rub my eyes and sat upright. “You guys are back early.”

“Baron & I wanted to have the rest of Sunday with Tiffany and we’ve decided just to take her with us this Monday,” Tracy smiles.

“That’s good,” I look over the bed and Tiffany was still past asleep. “Well, I guess my job here is done.”

“Thank you so much, you’ve always been a great babysitter,” Tracy hugs me once I’m on my feet. “We’ll call you next time.”

“Of course, any time.”

Tracy hands me an envelope. “Thanks,” I smiled and she chuckles.

I went over to the bed and kissed Tiffany on the forehead. “I’ll go right ahead, little beast.”

Once I bid Tracy and Baron goodbye and thank you, I began my wonderful journey home. Note the sarcasm. I had to do laundry and probably Mrs. Wright would let me walk her dog & I need to return books that I borrowed from the library. 

I groan and took out my phone. 9:40

My day looks hectic so far and currently, I feel like procrastination would heighten  my progress.

“Grace?”

I look up from my phone and for a moment, I forget why it was necessary to breath. Harry had a look of surprise on his face and with a hint of gladness, I suppose? He chewed on his bottom lip while he strides towards me.

I was dumbstruck for a moment and he stopped right in front of me.

“So we meet again.” Harry chuckles, tucking his hands inside his pockets. 

“I know right? It’s starting to irritate me,” I say with a straight face but later on, I failed and ended up laughing.

“It’s like the universe is telling us something,” Harry smiles, his dimples showing. 

“What, that the town we’re living in is small?”

“Don’t ruin my moment please.”

“Sorry.”

Harry chuckles and shifts from foot to foot. “What are you doing here?”

We’re basically in front of a Whole Foods Market, in the middle of the parking lot. I realize I have already walked past my dorm complex. Fantastic.

“Hunting for elephants,” I say and Harry chuckles. “I was from my babysitting job and now a sudden realization just dawned on me that I already passed my dorm.”

“How does one just walk past their place?” Harry laughs, folding his arms. I realize he was wearing a white shirt over a trench coat. He was dressed so simply but he looked like a freaking Vogue model. I hate him.

“I certainly don’t need you mocking my misfortunes, Harry,” I narrow my eyes.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” Harry says, still chortling to himself. “So you were babysitting last night?”

I nod.

“So, that must be why you weren’t at the party,” Harry wonders out loud.

I nod again. “Was it fun?”

“Hardly,” Harry frowns. “Ryan forced me to go, even baited me with the thought of you being there.”

Stop.

He really does know how to make an impression. 

“Parties are never ever my scene,” I say, chuckling.

“What is your scene?” Harry asks, his eyes soft and questioning.

Then amidst his divine aura, I remember: Laundry.

“Laundry,” I whisper.

Harry suddenly bursts out laughing. “Laundry is your scene?”

I look at him and shake away my disoriented thoughts. “No,” I let out a shaky breath. “I meant I need to do laundry today and walk my landlady’s dog and do a lot of things and I’ve barely-”

“Alright, chill out,” Harry laughs and mindlessly puts both his hands atop my shoulders. His sudden contact made me stand still and if he notices it, he barely acknowledges it.

“Let’s get breakfast before anything else,” He says with a hint of subtle probing. 

“I’m having a hard time determining if that’s a plead or a demand.”

“It’s both,” Harry smiles. “Come on, I don’t have much to do today and maybe if you’ll allow me, I will help you with these tasks in your list.”

“Fine,” I yawn, still deprived of sleep. “I will get breakfast with you if I get to pick which place we’ll eat.”

“Demanding, but deal.”

~hehehehehe sorry for the longggggg wait and this chapter is crappy and short but i will make the next chapter extra long and enventful (hopefully) beLATED MERRY CHRISTMAS AND BTW IF U DONT KNOW, LARRY IS REAL IM SO SLEEPY GOODNIGHT, I WILL READ LARRY FICS BEFORE BED AND THEN MAYBE I WILL BE INSPIRED TO WRITE THE NEXT DAY. 

NOTE: PLOT TWIST COMING THROUGH HUHUHUHUHAHAHHAEHEHEHEH

EXTRA NOTE: I WILL BEGIN PUTTING UP SONGS THE NEXT CHAPTER EHEHEHE LOVE YOU ALL GOOD NIGHT OR GOOD MORNING OR GOOD MIDNIGHT

[aimharold]

Diner Soundtrack

a/n: Part 4!!!

My roommate, Beth has been walking to and fro making me feel anxious just by looking at her. I was on my desk, editing a powerpoint presentation for my report in World History two days from now. It was past five and I still haven’t had my dinner.

“What are you doing?” I asked her as I turned my swivel chair around. 

“Gathering my things, what does it look like I’m doing?”

“Okay, but why? And where could you be possibly be going on a Sunday night when you have midterms tomorrow?”

“You’re starting to sound a lot like my mom, Grace, it’s scaring me,” She says as she shoves two textbooks on her bag. “I’m going over at Ryan’s to review for tomorrow.”

I chuckle. “You call it review, I call it canoodling.”

“Don’t,” Beth stops on her tracks, scowling at me. “Why is it that every time I hang out with a guy, you automatically assume I’m hooking up with them?”

“Because it’s the universal excuse, you hang out and then bam,” I laugh. “Have you heard about Netflix and chill?”

“Yeah but we’re not into Netflix,” She scoffs.

“We? See there’s something going on with you two,” I tease her.

“Whatever, I’m going over his place to review nothing more. Do you want to come or not?”

“I’m invited?” I light up, quite surprised. Beth actually doesn’t invite me that much which explains my confusion and excitement.

“I mean, yeah, if you’re interested,” She says slumping down the leather couch whilst tying her shoelaces. 

“I won’t refuse, besides i have nothing else to do,” I say and shut down my computer. “Finally done with my midterms just last Friday.”

“Lucky you,” Beth sighs and gets up. “Well, hurry up, it’s getting late.”

“Look who’s super excited,” I laugh and slip on my lace up boots. I grab my phone and keys with me along with my coat.

We used Beth’s car since mine was pretty beat up coming from the repair shop just this morning. 

The drive to Ryan’s place was filled with Beth’s pop tunes and our inevitable mindless chatters about what’s going on with our lives.

“So are you planning to return home for Thanksgiving?” Beth asks me, as she drums her fingers on the stirring wheel.

“Yeah, probably,” I sigh. The idea of having to deal with my parents is excruciating. I feel drained just by thinking about it. “My mom won’t stop emailing about it.”

“Same, it’s not like it would be different if I would be back,” Beth says. “Oh, we’re here.”

Beth parks the car on the parking space meant for guests. Ryan’s dorm was on the other side of campus, simply because he goes to another university. Funny enough, he and Beth had the same midterms to take.

“How come you and Ryan are taking the same midterm test tomorrow when you’re from different colleges?”

Beth looks at me with weary eyes and shakes her head. “We take the same units, Grace. What else do you need to know?”

I raise my hands in surrender. “Nothing, I was just curious.”

We walk up the stairs leading to the front door. I walk behind Beth, chewing on my nails. We were greeted by students there probably from the communal showers or the dining halls. I could tell that our dormitory was more secluded than Ryan’s.

Beth and I turn a couple more corners until we stopped in front of Ryan’s dorm room.

Beth knocks on the door and we wait. 

“Is it okay I’m tagging along?” I ask.

“Yeah, it’s not like we’re meant to be doing some-” I raise my eyebrows and Beth rolls her eyes. The door opens and it wasn’t Ryan who greeted us.

“Harry?” I say, perplexed.

“Grace!” His face lights up.

“You know each other?”

I look at Grace and she was narrowing her eyes. She mouths, “Is he the guy from the diner?”

I frown and nod at her but then, turn my attention back to Harry. “Hey, I haven’t seen you in a while.”

And that bummed me. After spending a night with him watching a James Dean film, outside the diner, he never made an appearance again. Three weeks of not seeing him made me question if he ever existed. Or if I was just fantasizing over a made-up perfect person that never actually lived. 

His face fell. “You should come in, and Ryan’s upstairs, Beth,” He smiles.

We entered and took off our coats. “I’ll take that for you,” Harry politely offers; both Beth and I handed him our coats and he places them over the coat rack.

Ryan’s dorm room was in deed unlike any other. It was a two story room with a huge banister, dividing the lavish living room and probably the rooms upstairs.

“How did you two meet?” Beth asks, despite of actually knowing that I met Harry in the diner. “I didn’t actually think you would be friends with one of my friends, Hazza.”

“Grace and I met in the diner a little over a month ago,” Harry says to Beth, while scratching his arm, a habit I know he does from time to time. “We’ve hung out a couple of times.”

“Is that so?” Beth cocks her eyebrows at me, nudging me by the elbows.

“How do you two know each other?” I ask while we make our way to the ginormous living room. There was a flat screen tv across the room, a coffee table filled with cans of beer and bowls of popcorn and chips, a box of pizza. The couches were velvet and everything a college student shouldn’t be able to afford. Damn, I didn’t know Ryan was a rich fellow.

“Ryan’s my mate,” Harry says. “And Beth’s his girlfriend so I see her around often.”

“Jackpot!” I shoved Beth forward, jokingly and laughed. “I knew you were having a fling with him!”

“Okay, shut up now, Grace,” Beth shoved me back. “What’s up with you? You used to be so silent.”

“You used to be so fun, now you’re just an old lady,” I probe. “Just because you have a boyfriend, blek.”

Harry laughs at me and I look his way. He purses his lips again, in that way that drives me insane and brings upon an unshakable turmoil in me.

“Oh hey, you’ve arrived,” Someone, Ryan says.

I turn around and smiled at him.

“And you brought Grace with you,” He seems surprised but he smiles anyway.

“I hope I’m not intruding,” I say, sheepishly. 

“Not at all, Grace,” he says, grinning at me. “I’m sure Harry in here looks forward on keeping your company.”

I’m not worried at all with Beth and Ryan being together since I know Ryan is a decent guy.

“So without further ado, I shall borrow Beth,” Ryan says and grabs Beth’s wrist. “See you guys later.”

“Be safe, kids,” I call out after them and I hear Ryan’s laugh upstairs.

“I guess it’s just us then?” Harry shrugs.

“Wasn’t expecting this at all,” I say. “You done with your midterms?”

“Mine is next week,” Harry answers me, his hands tucked inside his pockets. He was wearing a loose white button up, the sleeves neatly rolled up. He looks pristine.

“Oh, godspeed then.”

“Come,” Harry pulls me to the couch. I sat down next to him and look around the room. 

“What do you want to do?”

Snuggle with you.  

“Anything,” I say, shaking off my thoughts. 

“Are you hungry?”

“Yeah,” I say and he opens the box of pizza. He hands me a paper plate and prepares a bottle of soda for me. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome,” Harry smiles and turns the xbox off. He flips through channels and asks me what I want to watch.

“American Horror Story Season five airs tonight,” I say, biting a mouthful of pizza. “ I mean it aired last Wednesday but there’s a replay tonight.”

“That show is disturbing,” Harry frowns. “But fine, I heard Lady Gaga is on it.”

So we watched the replay and it was evident Harry didn’t favor it. It was gory, as usual but I always adored AHS. It saddened me that this season, Taissa and Jessica weren’t casted any character. They were my favorites.

“Matt Bomer is crazy sexy,” I sigh, and tuck my legs closer to my chest. 

“Ryan's place is so cold,” I complain. 

The couch dips and I see Harry moving closer to me. This boy doesn’t know how to be subtle. He gets a blanket and wraps it around my shoulders.

“Better?”

I froze at his touch. He was the warmth on a cold winter night, a cup of hot chocolate on an early Christmas morning. He was the fire that thawed the heedless lethargy in me. It’s ridiculous to say that that one morning when Harry entered the diner and came into my life forever, I didn’t expect that a stranger like him would mean so much to me.

Until now, he was still a stranger. I don’t know what makes up of him and nor do I really know him at all, but I feel like I do. It’s treacherous thing to assume that I know him well when I hadn’t even discerned parts of him that he didn’t give out for the world to see. Like his fears, or his dreams. But does that really matter?

It probably does.

I nod, since my tongue failed me.

After a minute of staring at the tv screen passively, I tilt my head to look at Harry who was folding his arms across his chest and watching the cooking show attentively. 

A pillow separated a space between us, which was to say the least, not helpful at all (his thighs were still practically pressed to mine)

He notices me staring and he stares back. “What?”

I noticed the place got brighter when he beamed, as if he had the control over the hanging orange-yellow lanterns adorning the ceilings. Everything seems brighter with him around.

“Where were you?” I ask out of the blue. “You were gone.”

“I’m sorry,” he says, looking down and fiddling with his rings.

For what?

“I had to be somewhere,” Harry replies. “But I’m back now.”

“Are you okay?” I ask, shifting on my seat. “The last time we talked, you were upset.”

“It doesn’t matter if I’m okay or not,” Harry says timidly.

“It matters to me,” I say.

He looks up and his eyes were vibrantly green and filled with life and withered autumns. An ironic contrast.

He doesn’t say anything for a bit but then he breaks the silence ringing between us with, “I missed you, you know.”

The familiar rush of warmth resurfaced again. Only Harry could do that.

“I wish I could say the same,” I say, joking.

“Hey!” Harry chuckles and nudges me by the side. “it won’t hurt you to say you missed me too.”

“Fine,” I chuckle. “I missed you too, I still do.”

a/n: omG so here’s part four i am so sorry you waited so long for such a short update but anyway, there would still be part four :--) buT how perfect was the perfect mv i am in tears :----------( btw, I still take requests and fyi, These Broken Stars is a series so it would have a lot of chapters so yeah. please support these broken stars just as you guys supported diner soundtrack and more than i should. anyhow, thank you for everything and i love you all! <3

[aimharold]

Where is pt 4 :(?

i will try and complete part four tomorrow i am so sleepy rn anyways im sorry but i will try it tomorrow :--)

[aimharold]

These Broken Stars

  2.Two/Ode to a Nightingale

 I took out my phone and read Frank's message about my apartment's home passcode.

 0321

Once the door opens, I let myself in. The space was gigantic and very luxurious; the living room was right in front of me, the couches plush and comfy looking. Beside it was a surface filled with handfuls of vases containing pastels of peonies. They were hanging, some beautifully lined across an impeccably polished mahogany table. I walk towards the glass window overlooking the beautiful city below me. It was all clear up here, as if I could see through the lives of the people I see crossing the streets.

I am Jane Forde and I had all these things people would wish for. I was living a life I didn't even wish for myself. I am Hollywood's legacy and everyone knew who I was. I was every man's fantasy, every woman's jealousy but at the end of the day, I was just me. It is tiring to act tough all day, make it seem like I had thick skin and I'm not bothered by what people say about me. I never wanted this for myself but I had to do it to support my brother.

 I heave an exasperated groan and continued to scan my new place. It was bigger than how Frank described it and totally more fancy.

 I collapse on the beige leather seats and closed my eyes. Now that I'm alone and completely left to endure my thoughts, the wicked truth of no one actually liking me, dawns on me.

 "The hell I care," I mumble against the soft pillow. "Of course I'm not liked. People are busy being jealous of me, wanting what I have."

 I'm so horrible, it scares me.

 "Screw this," I threw the pillow across the room, crashing one of the expensive and intricate vases that had peonies in them. I bit my lip and laugh to myself. "Oops?"

 I stood up and headed straight up stairs. When I reached the bathroom, I directly strip off my clothes and let the warm water soak my tensed body. My muscles were tout, every fiber of it tender with stress.  Once when I'm done scrubbing myself clean, I got out of the shower, and dress myself in a robe. My phone buzzes on top of the marble sink and I took it without checking who was calling.

 "Speak, I'm in the middle of something," I say flatly.

"This girl, I swear to God!" Of course, this was my mother. Who else would use this catchphrase? "What kind of daughter ditches a dinner with her mother who she hasn't seen for at least half a year?"

"What kind of mother forces her daughter to take on a job at thirteen years old? Oh right, you're that kind," I say, scoffing. I sat in front of the vanity, staring blankly at my reflection.

"Do- I'm still your mother, Jane Forde! And just how fantastic do you think you are not to tell me you moved to another apartment complex? I have to hear that from Emma's mother!"

"It's a shame that other people knows more about my life more than my own mother,” I shake my own head.

"Hey!" Mother chides me. "You have amounted no right to speak to me in such way, young lady! If it weren't for me, you'd be nowhere!

I scoff.

 "You are just a morsel of fiery fame, my dear. The only reason why people are still interested in you is because you're young and beautiful, a goddess. And where did you get that from? Me, your mother. Without your looks, you wouldn't stand a chance! You don't know the first thing about acting!"

 Her words stung, she was my mother after all. But I appear unfazed. I snorted. "And you do?"

 "Besides, I don't look like you, I look like dad."

 "No you don't, your father was an unattractive toad," My mother says.

 "Oh right, you only married dad because of his money," I say and brush away the tears that had escaped my eyes. I was used to my mother talking about me this way but it doesn't mean I'm not pained by it.

 "I am your mother, Jane. Don't speak to me like that!"

 "You are not my mother."

 "Spare me the theatrics, Jane. Send over five hundred grand, I need it for my home renovation." She then cut off the line. I placed my phone down and callously dabbed wet wipes all over my smeared mascara. 

After a fair amount of time, finding my cosmetics (which Daisy didn’t organize as I instructed her to) I finally had a clear face and was changed to my comfortable pajamas. I blow dried my hair and realized that by the extension plug, just above it specifically was a system speaker. I squealed in delight and head downstairs to get my ipod inside my purse. I ran back up to the bathroom and attached  my ipod to the speaker.

I Don’t Want to Miss a Thing by Aerosmith came on and I found myself loving this flat even more. I reached for a brush and started singing obnoxiously.

“I don’t wanna close my eyes!” I screamed/sing/cried out loud using elaborate hand gestures like most singers do. “I don’t wanna fall asleep cause I miss you baby and I don’t wanna miss a thing.”

My favorite part which was the bridge chorused and I gave it my all. For all I know, I sounded like a dying cow. Who cares? Frank told me this building was sound proof so I was safe from murdering people by my cutthroat menacing voice.

My singing was rudely disrupted by the screeching pitch of the doorbell out in the front door, I hoped off the soft cushions I was standing at and stopped the track. I head down the stairs and opened the door without a second thought. Stood in front of me was my next door neighbor or as I’d like to refer to him my grumpy sod of a next door neighbor.

His face was blank, as always, his long hair tied in a bun. I didn’t know guys could sport such thing as a bun. Perhaps it’s just him. He was in a baggy sweater and plaid pajamas.

“Do you know what time it is?”

I looked at him, perplexed. “It’s quarter past ten?”

“Then you should know that most people are already sound asleep that instant,” He said, his eyes piercing my own. His coldness was something welcoming to me, though this person was so much the opposite of welcoming. “It’s common sense that you shouldn’t boisterously sing even if you sing well.”

“Oh, you heard that?” Why does this person think I sing well? “I thought this building has a great soundproof construction, seems I’m wrong. I’m sorry anyway.”

I was ready to shut the door to his face but he grabs the rim of it, stopping my advances. “When someone sings terribly, it should be considered making noise rather than singing.”

I open the door wider. “What are you saying?”

“Noise disturbance is marked as a crime in this neighborhood,” Grumpy Sod says. “And if I report it to authorities, you could get a penalty.”

“So you are threatening to report me to the police right now?” I sneer and stood up to him. He was so much taller than I am so my endeavors were proven futile. “Because I sang a little?”

This should not bother me so much but I had gone through so much today, that this was the last straw. I feel myself minutes away from a breakdown.

“I wasn’t meaning to-”

“You weren’t meaning to what? How quick are you to judge? I was just having a cathartic session of releasing every tinge of tension I have and now you’re telling me I committed a crime?” I was now raising my voice and my hands begin to shake. A clear sign that I was having a meltdown. 

“I didn’t mean to, I meant if we look at it with common sense-”

“Oh, so you’re saying I lack common sense? That I’m a bonehead and that I only know how to act pretty and sophisticated and that I can’t act for shit? You’re saying I’m a horrible person just because I was singing and making myself feel better about this shitty life I’m living with?”

“That’s not it-”

“You’re saying I’m not right in the head, that I’m a psycho and need guidance, isn’t that right?”

My eyes begin to weld up tears again and I was breathing hard. The stranger in front of me looked remorseful as his green eyes looked at the hysterical person in front of him. 

“But you know what, I’m alright,” I say through clenched teeth. “Even though I only had celery and an apple all day because I’m on diet, because apparently I’ve gained so much weight and I am about to get fat, I’m full! I’m okay.” I was already screaming and crying, not caring if I looked insane.

“I’m already full to my extent, because I am severely criticized by people all my life. People I don’t even care about but still, I have to impress them,” I say. 

“I had no idea that even here, in the expanse of my home will I get criticized even more for the meager act of singing,” I say, tears pathetically streaming down my face. “Can’t I sing? Where would I release all of my stress then?”

“I can’t eat!” I screamed at his face. “Imagine, an apple and a stick of celery!”

The stranger looks taken aback and really completely remorseful. He stepped closer and was about to apologize but I brought up my hand.

“Forget it, you don’t need to apologize,” I say. “I don’t have to talk to you anymore.”

I stepped back and slammed the door on his face. 

I ran upstairs and into the bedroom. I lie in bed and let my tears soak my pillow. “What did I do so wrong?”

My crying voice is so much more horrid than my singing voice. “Why does everybody hate on me? Do they even know what really lies beneath me, beneath the facade I put up?”

My body shakes as I sob loudly, my voice mumbled by my pillow. I already feel the disgusting slob from my nose.

“You said I was the most beautiful, you said you’d never stop loving me?”

“How could they chew up a person’s feelings as if they were just chewing gum?”

With those last wondering thoughts, I found myself in the brink of sleep.

*********

I was woken up by phone’s persistent ringing. I reach out and grab it from my nightstand and answer it without checking who it was. 

“Speak,” I say hoarsely.

“Jane, this is Daisy, I-”

“Get me a skinny foam java caramel macchiatto, and if you don’t have that first thing, you’re fired,” I say, pulling my night mask off. 

“No-noted,” Daisy’s voice shakes.

How is it even I still have the nerve to wonder why people hate me? This was exactly why.

“And also, Mason and Frank want you over for a meeting,” Daisy informs me.

“Again?” I groan, rolling off to the other side of the bed and falling over. I grunt in frustration and lie on my back. “I don’t want to see their faces every day, don’t they know that?”

“They say it’s urgent,” Daisy says. “You have to be there at eight.”

“Nobody tells me what to do,” I say. “I’ll be there when I want to.”

“Okay, I’ll send Mason a message,” Daisy says.

“And send a car over,” I say, getting up and sitting at the edge of my bed. I look around the room which I failed to take in last night due to my terrible crying meltdown. It was a posh room and had collective paintings of Van Gogh, which Mason knew I liked. At the very center of the room was a portrait of my shoot in Vogue Paris last spring, in a pastel pink vinyl fitted dress. My hair was knotted to a bow and I was holding a stick like I was Marilyn Monroe. Mason also knew this was my favorite portrait from any shoot. The room was on the scheme of black and white and some swirling pastels from here and there.

“Jane?”

“What?” I snapped at Daisy.

“You fired the driver yesterday, Lucas, remember?”

Well shit.

“I remember,” I say. “I’ll just hail a cab.”

I put the phone down and head over to the bathroom and decide to take a shower. 

````````

“Our beloved Jane!” Frank says once I open the glass doors adjoining his lounge from his office. It’s as if he hasn’t seen me for the last couple of decades.

“What did you need me here for?” I sigh, defeated. “I don’t think it’s very benevolent of you to pull me out of my slumber at such an early notice.”

Daisy enters the room and greets us a good morning. She caries with her a tray of my macchiatto.

“Here’s your macchiatto, Jane.”

“Thank you,” I smile at her and she exits the room.

“We need to discuss something,” Mason says.

“Get it over with, then,” I say, taking off my sunglasses.

“Your college... classmates has noticed your absences for quite sometime now and it made another uproar in the social media,” Frank says, adjusting his tie.

“What do they care? Don’t they have a life to get to rather than just prying into mine?”

Mason lent over and showed some news articles about ‘Stars getting special treatment in academical endeavors’

“So what are you suggesting?”

“We’re suggesting you take the day off today and go back to University,” Frank says. “You’ve been gone for about two months now, Jane, you should get back.”

“How would they even expect me to juggle both school work and being an actress? Do they have brain damage?”

“Let’s just get to the matter, Jane. Mason in here made an appointment with one of your professors today and asked for your missing submissions and we’ve already delve into it and Daisy is researching an essay as we speak,” Frank says. It’s good how he knows I won’t be responsible to fill up the work I’ve missed.

“Good and it’s settled,” I smile cunningly.

````````

“He won’t even know it’s plagiarized,” Daisy gushed as I ate slices of tangerine. I don’t know exactly which old sod I’d be passing my work to but I could possibly care less about the whole thing. I nod at her and stare out of the car window. Mason was currently driving me to Columbia, since I have no driver as of the moment. 

“Not even a ghost would know this was all copied,” Daisy smiled to herself triumphantly.

“Stop acting like you’ve invented a space rocket, Daisy,” I sighed and pulled the folder to me.

“I was just saying,” Daisy had her head hung low. Mason stops in front of the school lawn and as expected, a swarm of paparazis were there waiting for me. As soon as they spotted the car, they came running towards it like it was the end of the tunnel, as if it was a means of escape for their pathetic little lives.

Daisy followed behind me as Mason huddled over me to keep out these snoopy leeches. Once we were inside the school premises, Mason gave me the room number for my English Literature class.

“Thanks,” I say. “And be there right after, I don’t have a driver to send me home.”

“Of course,” Mason had a humorous look on his face.

I walk towards the back of the room and the room falls to a hush, silent whispers coiling over the place. Peoples eyes were on me and you’d think I would have been used to it by now but it makes me squirm. I don’t show it of course.

The professor was turned back, writing what I suppose is an Ode. I settle down at the very back. I ignored those who were sneakily pulling out their phones to take photos of me. 

To my horror, the professor that stood in front of the class was my neighbor, Mr. Grumpy Sod,the beautiful and excruciating stranger from next door.

He scans the room and his face contorted when he saw me.

He manages to feign a look of indifference. Something he is a prodigy of.

“A pleasant morning, class.”

Pleasant? As if.

He talks like someone from the Middle Ages, wherein grammar and lavish language was valued the most. A simple good morning would do but no, he has to be so pretentious about it.

Wasn’t he too young to be a professor? He looks younger than me by all means. He was dressed in a white dress shirt and a loose black tie, his curly tresses disheveled and gorgeous. 

As  predicted Mr. Grumpy Sod tackled about Odes and how it was a rampant selection of literature before. He taught well, though I wasn’t going to admit it.

Ode to a Nightingale

“How tragic is it to die but not to die at all,” He says, a look of nostalgia looming over his face. 

“I don’t think you know about tragedy at all,” I say under my breath, scoffing. 

“What was that, Ms. Forde?” I hear Mr. Grumpy Sod ask me. I look up and everyone around me turned their heads, their eyes lingering on me.

That was barely a whisper, a very discreet mumble. How could he have heard that? He has superhuman hearing ability, I am jealous.

“Any thoughts about the Ode to a Nightingale?”

“Happiness is but an illusion,” I stood up and faced him. I am not a bonehead, my brain was not injected with Botox like some of those who hate me say. “John Keats wrote this ode as a deception for most in the beginning. The nightingale sang of blitheness and sublimity and with that Keats wanted to drown himself in wine and wake up. Not be himself. See that life is full of pain and that the young die and thinking about life brings sorrow and despair. Half a time through out the ode, he has confessed of being in love with easeful death but even this he can’t escape through imagining. The nightingale’s singing becomes faint and dies away. Keats was uncertain if he was asleep or awake, the experience seems so strange and unconvincing he knew he had to be either asleep or awake. The ode was not entirely coherent, jumping from one thought to another but it was evident that John Keats knows more about life more than Aristotle and Shakespeare combined.”

Mr. Grumpy Sod pauses and I don’t have the time to gloat as he raises his eyebrows at me. Surprised?

“Very well said, Mrs. Forde,” Grumpy Sod says, stepping out of the platform. “But I wonder, is that a new trend of some sort?”

He points at the hidden ear piece I had on my ear. Mason was behind it, coaching me word for word. Busted.

He walks up the stairs of the aisle and comes closer to me. I freeze in my spot.

On my defense, I do know this ode. I really do. It just so happens Mason doesn’t trust me much about talking orally. There was this one time, I was tongue tied presenting in the Grammy’s. I presented Beyonce and I choked. It’s reasonable why Mason didn’t trust me.

Mr. Grumpy Sod stood in front of me and leaned forward to take a good look on my earpiece. I leaned back, speechless. His green eyes wandered mine, amused and condescending. “Very clever, Miss Forde. But not clever enough.”

~a/n:Sorrrryyyyyy, thAT WAS a bit long. OMG JUST A WEEK BEFORE MY SEMESTRAL BREAK MEANING I COULD WRITE MORE! AND AS FOR THOSE REQUESTS THAT I HAVEN’T DONE, I WILL FIND TIME TO DO IT AND AS PROMISED, I WILL FINISH MORE THAN I SHOULD AND DINER SOUNDTRACK. I still take requests though, and if ever you guys want to just drop by my ask and feel free to ask me anything :)

So how are you liking These Broken Stars so far? (I know Jane is a bit annoying and egotistical and not to say the least, a pain but it will get better omg im so sorry hahaha) I LOVE YOU ALL AND GOODBYE I WILL SUCCUMB TO SLEEP BC ITS 12 AM IN HERE :))) GOOD NIGHT MY LOVES <3

[aimharold]

so harry got extra nipples, an extra bone in his foot, and an extra place in my heart

[aimharold]

[aimharold]

These Broken Stars

a/n: I will soon continue Diner Soundtrack and More Than I Should in a few days/weeks time but for now, I have this idea for a series which I will be posting, as of now. A warning: This idea isn’t original and the title is from a similar novel but the entire idea of this series is from a Korean tv series which I am obsessing over currently and I decided to do a spin off with the main guy being Harry. So I hope you guys would like it!

One/ Next Door Neighbor 

Ruptures of pierced yelps surround me as moments flutter to an hour. The guards hold back the crowd from the white steel framed fence surrounding the vicinity of the shooting location we were in.

“People go crazy for you, don’t they?” My manager, Mason regarded me as I’m being prepped for my next scene.

“I couldn’t exactly blame them,” I smirk, scrolling through Twitter. “I’m Jane Ford, after all.”

“Couldn’t agree less,” Mason turns back and goes to Director Park to clear some points about my schedule today.

I continued to scroll through twitter and read tweets from my fans and my ever so appreciated anti-fans. I barely noticed the trend that was about me. I clicked through it and lots of criticisms popped up about my new upcoming tv series. 

She always chooses those roles that don’t fit her!

She can’t act for shit’s sake!

Why is she even casted as the lead? She deserves to be the supporting since all she could ever do is meagerly act and cry all the time!  

I scoff out loud and roll my eyes. 

“Ow!” I snap at Daisy, my assistant who was forced to do my hair since my stylist was on leave. “Be careful with my extensions!”

“Sorry,” Daisy fidgets with my clip nervously. 

“How dare these lowlifes criticize my acting prowess!” I fold my arms together, my phone still in sight. “For argument’s sake, I won a Tony for being Elphaba in Wicked and let’s not forget my Emmy earlier this year!”

“They’re just threatened by your tremendous success, Jane,” Daisy timidly says.

“Right?” I scoff another one. “I’m pretty sure that Amber has something to do with this.”

Given my guess, I seek for her Twitter page and am proven right.

Her recent twitter was clearly her way of subtly jabbing at me.

What a shame, diversity seems so dead these days.

It was her twisted form of rattling my cage, since I accepted the role of Morgana Pendragon, a retelling of King Arthur’s tale of Abinion. She was casted the same role from before and it was an utter failure in ratings. Mine however was embraced resoundingly by the public and she was given shit for it. It’s safe to say it wasn’t my fault she sucked at acting. And now that she knows she can’t out stand me, she made her minions of fans attack me.

I smirk and subtweeted her.

What a shame, accepting defeat seems so queer now. :(

Mason comes back to my tent and hands me my schedule. “We will change locations tom-” His phone vibrates and he excuses himself.

“All done!” Daisy cheers up now that her job, actually it’s not a part of it, of doing my hair was done. She hands me the mirror and I nod. “Not bad.”

When I look up, Mason was squinting his eyes at me. “Do I look ravishsing as always?” I laugh and stood up, shutting my phone off.

“Can you explain this?” Mason shows me his phone and I scowl at him and then later on, see what he is so pissed about.

It was my subtweet of Amber Flance’s tweet. I look at Mason and raised my eyebrows. 

“What does it matter?” I flip my hair and walk out of the tent. 

“Management called me as soon as your tweet flared all over the media!” Mason shrieked in anxiousness. “How many times do I have to tell you not to tweet things like that?”

I jeer and turn to him, folding my arms together. “You’re nothing more than my manager, Mason and I pay you for a living so I suggest you change the way you are addressing me.”

Mason lowers his head down. “It’s the agency, Jane. They want us over now.”

“For what?” I cock my eyebrows. “Frank would just give me useless nags again and in all seriousness, I don’t have time for that.”

“He says it’s urgent,” Mason says. 

“Fine,” I sigh and grab my purse from the chair. “Daisy, get the rest of my things and never make the mistake of leaving my pillow again.”

“Okay,” She says and hastily scrambles to her feet.

“I”ll be in the car,” I say.

/

\

/

“Mason and I already told you the precautions, Jane!”

Of course, same old, same old.

“Frank,” I sigh defeated. “In my defense, she was the one who initiated it. Did you expect me to take her crap?”

“Of course you wouldn’t let it pass,” He whispers, shaking his head. Mason was by the corner, his head hung low.

“On the bright side, my subtweet gained a lot of retweet than Amber’s actual tweet, so who’s the winner here?” I try to lighten the mood and be cocky but Frank just gave me a shake of his egg shaped head.

“Is this the only reason why I’m in here? I need to be somewhere.”

“Have you forgotten?” Frank began. “You’re moving to the pent house today.”

A sudden recollection of our last meeting reoccurred to me and I now remember that I am scheduled to move to my new place today.

“Right,” I run a hand over my hair.

“No need to worry, all of your things are already conveyed to your new apartment as we speak.”

“Great, I should get going then,” I get up and head out of the door without saying much of a goodbye to either of my managers.

Once I was already in the car with Daisy at the front seat, the driver began driving through the main expressway.

“Where to?” The driver asked.

“Red Tide Dining,” Daisy answered him.

“No, actually just take me to the new complex I’m moving to.”

“But, Jane, you have a dinner reservation scheduled tonight,” Daisy says, that constant worry and panic etched on her face.

“I know, cancel it,” I say, hissing at the sunsets flare. I put on my cat-eyed sunnies and tuck my arms under my velvet coat.

“But your mother wants to meet up with you, Jane,” Daisy says her note of hysteria vivid.

“And I don’t care,” I say nonchalantly because I really don’t. Ever since I was a kid, she never wanted anything from me except to extract money out of my pockets. How justifiable is it for a person to make a 13 year old a money machine? Not at all. I’ve always  her, no, loathed her.I hated her for driving my father away just because he was already of no use to her.

“But Jane-”

“Please stop talking,” I cut Daisy off.

Minutes later, the car stops to a halt and I was sent flying forward. My head slammed against the leather seat before me and my vision was invaded by dotted reds.

“Oh my Gosh, Jane are you okay?” I sat back in my place and press the heel of my palm on my swollen forehead. I pluck out my sunnies and look at Daisy straight and direly.

“Do you think I’m okay?”

“No?”

I lean forward to look at the driver who looked terrified. He should be. “What’s your name? It seems like you’re new.”

“I- I am,” the driver stutters. “I’m Lucas.”

“Lucas,” I nod. “Nice name, came from a biblical scripture.”

He nods coyly. “Lucas?”

“Yes, Miss Ford?” I stare at him at the rear view mirror for a great deal of five minutes. I smile and say simply, “You’re fired.”

“Jane!”

I cock my head towards Daisy and raise my eyebrows. “Are you chiding me, Daisy?”

“Because I think Lucas here could give you a ride before he retires to another job, right Lucas?”

“No, of course not, Ms. Ford.”

“Good, because I could fire you as well.”

I got out of the car, clutching my purse. “Jane?”

I turn to Daisy. “What?”

“Your earrings were just lend by Oriental this morning, I was instructed to get it back by the end of the day.”

I furrow my eyebrows but give in anyway. I unhook the the pair of diamond hoops and hand it to her.

“Is there anything else?”

“No,” Daisy shakes her head. “But your apartment number is 2602, penthouse.”

I went inside the humongous and lavish building and head over to the elevator. I tap my foot against the marble floor as I wait for the doors to slide open.

A guy, a tall and broad shouldered guy stood beside me and pressed the up button and waited with a somber look on his face. I looked closer, and not too subtly but the guy just looked straight ahead.

He wore a suit, his hair long and curly was hanging low on his shoulders; he was carrying a satchel and loads of folders. Once the elevator opens up, he steps in and I was left flabbergasted over the beautiful chiseled stranger who didn’t even pay me any attention. 

Which was totally alien for me since I was always a subject to a man’s affections. I even got Randall Jackson to fall for my charms. I think this guy is blind. I step in and he was still looking ahead, as if he could see right through the metal doors of the elevator. I pressed the 26th button and waited.

Nothing. 

Still no recognition.

“Excuse me?” I look at the man and he doesn’t even give me so much than a glimpse. “You haven’t pressed a button yet.”

He doesn’t say anything. 

“Hey, I’m talking to you,” I say, starting to be annoyed. I never had to capture anyone’s attention and I don’t know why this person was an exception. He turns to me and I gulp down.

His facial structure was impeccable, his jaw line sharp, cheekbones perfect. His lips were a bright shade of red and his eyes, were as green as meadows. He was to say the least, attractive in every way but his blank face cancels everything out. 

“This is no surprise, though,” I chuckle. “Every guy I meet is always slacked jawed when I talk to them, seems you’re not an exception.”

He doesn’t say anything back.

“That’s right,” I tilt my head back at him and noticed he was staring at the screen above me. “I’m Jane Ford.”

Still nothing. 

“Are you following me? Since when were you stalking me?” Now I’m getting rather agitated. “What can I do for you? A picture? An autograph, anything? If I do it will you stop?”

The elevator dings and the guy looks at me and his eyes pierced holes through mine. He walks past me and I follow him. “Hey you rude bastard! I was talking to you!”

He stops in front of a door and presses against a number pad.

“Oh,” I say, flustered. “Of course you live here.”

The guy looks up and he stares at me seriously. 

“What?” I cock my eyebrows. 

“I’m entering my passcode.”

“I see that.”

“Then scram.” He sends me away with his hand gesturing me to really scram. Rude.

I scoff and blew a puff of air. “I’m your new next door neighbor, it’s lovely to meet you.” I sarcastically tell him.

“I wish I could say the same.”

-- btw this series is based off My Love From the Star, a Korean Tv show. I LOVE IT SO MUCH AND I WAS INSPIRED TO WRITE ABOUT IT ANYWAY I HOPE YOU ENJOYED THIS I WILL BE POSTING CHAPTER 2 SOON!!! LOVE YOU HUMAN BEANS

[aimharold]

someone: how are you today me: october 2nd, 2011 someone: what me: …..it’s been four years

[aimharold]

Relatable for Larry shippers 14/?

[aimharold]

x

[aimharold]

when ur man’s love declaration tweet reaches 1.5 mill on its 4th anniversary