Chapter Text
Hello, Paris. I’m back.
“Isn’t that (Y/n), the singer?”
“(Y/n), can I get your autograph?”
I signed another fan’s photo as I walked out of the airport. Being a singer had its perks, like sharing my talent with the world. The defects: people recognizing me left and right, asking for my autograph. I don’t complain publicly, nor did I want to. Overall, it was fun being a singing (f/g) star, one that I dreamed of being since I was a little kid.
“Miss (Y/n), what gives Paris the pleasure of being basked in your halo?” A reporter came up to me.
“My main goal here is to take a break from my career and focus on my studies,” I replied.
It was true. I came here because I wanted to finish school before I started my career again in America. I was constantly harassed and asked for pictures. Every time I was on the streets, I would be noticed and someone would start screaming.
“Will you be performing while you are here?” the reporter asked.
I shook my head. “My primary focus will be to work on school. I will also work on remixes for my YouTube channel. But for now, I will not be seen publicly performing.”
The reporter left after that, to my relief. I walked over to a free taxi and put my luggage in the trunk. I got in the back of the car and handed him the amount of euros. Handing him more, I reasoned that I could give him a tip.
“Purple Orchid Apartments, please,” I said.
He drove and got there in no time. I thanked him and got out of the car, grabbing my luggage from the trunk. I look for the front office until I spot the sign pointing to it.
“(Y/n) (L/n), checking in for apartment six hundred eighty-seven,” I said, handing them my student ID from America.
They inspect it before handing me a key and my ID back.
I walked out of the office and into the building, where I took the elevator up to the sixth floor. The numbers on the door were blatant, and I quickly found my room. I immediately coughed, smelling cigarette smoke.
I coughed more as I entered the apartment, realizing the apartment was not what it was in the pictures. There was a tiny full-size bed in the corner of the room with a nightstand and ashtray right next to it. The tiny kitchen had a microwave and refrigerator, and a counter with a sink.
There was only one door leading to the bathroom and a closet. I coughed once again as I looked at the marks on the wall. They were burn marks, no doubt from people lighting cigarettes so close to the wall. I made a mental note to go to the store and buy some air freshener.
Putting my suitcase on my bed, I unpacked. The many outfits I had packed were put in the white dresser in the closet. A bag containing my toiletries was put on the marble sink counter. I left my laptop and other stuff I use for music-making in my suitcase, not finding a place to set it up.
Once I felt my room was okay-looking, I walked out of the apartment to go visit my friend who owns a music store. The store was a short distance away from the apartment building, thanks to all the research I did. I also chose a great school that I would attend in a couple of days called Francais-Dupont High School. It was said to have great experiences and a great education.
The bell above the door rang as I opened the door. Lia, my friend, looked up from the counter and smiled. Her brown eyes lit up as she pulled her black hair from her face and fixed her black-rimed glasses.
“(Y/n)! How was the plane ride?” she asked as she hugged me.
“Not as bumpy as I thought it would be, considering it was overseas,” I replied, pulling away.
She walked behind the counter and found a bunch of CDs. “Do you want to stack these for me?”
I nodded with a smile and took the white bin of CDs. I wove through the shelves and customers, placing CDs in their proper places while also organizing other CDs the customers had misplaced while looking at them.
“Excuse me, Miss? Do you know where the guitar strings are?”