Run(a)way Life

There was no way she could keep up with what Kriss was saying; she barely understood a word. It didn’t matter though because she had heard it all before; and honestly, she was sick of him. She couldn’t see how her sitting through him telling her how beautiful Paris was, or how important this fashion show was to him; to his career, was any use to her. The only thing she wanted to do was get her ass to the hotel as soon as possible and have a loving relationship with her twin bed; no matter how uncomfortable it may be.

She, with her oh so many problems (no matter how trivial they may seem) is Kytherin Carsh, assistant to the all powerful fashion designer; Mr. Kristöffer Hart. Kytherin, otherwise known as Katie, was crudely awakened at 5:00am from where she was asleep at her office desk. Only to be whisked away to the airport and shoved onto an eleven hour flight straight to the city of love; or in this case, the city of hell on earth.

Kytherin stumbled lazily through the terminal at the airport in Paris, trying ever so carefully to stay on her feet and avoid coming in contact with anything of the human variety. She slowly made her way through the crowd, her 5’10 frame following behind her 6’2 boss. Though she was almost unsuccessful; being weighed down by her carry-on bag that was packed to the brim, with what might as well been bricks, and her suitcase.

She reached the doors right as her sugar high boss exited them. What ever he was on that made him so alive, awake, alert, and enthusiastic at (with the seven hour time change) 11:00pm was sure as hell doing a good job; sometimes too good of a job. She made a mental note to ask him what exactly he slipped into his green tea that morning; she could really use some of it; whatever “it” may be.

She pushed threw the revolving door only to see the normal door, even equipped with one of those fancy automatic buttony door opener thingies, right next to it. She groaned and slowly walked up to stand next to her boss, who was not-so-patiently waiting for a cab to arrive. The air was crisp, cold and…wet, really wet; like pouring rain kind of wet.
Kytherin carefully leaned over the pull up handle on her suitcase, it being the only support available to hold her up, and stared down at her shoes. She really needed new shoes. All she had was her pair of beaten up, scuffed, and dirt stained black converse; aka her best friend. (Not literally of course)

She stood there in silence for a total of about five minutes ‘til her boss broke threw the sound barrier surrounding her.

“Carsh!” he shrieked in a happy voice.

“Huh?” she shook her head in a futile way to wake up. “What is it Mr. Hart?”

“Kytherin, call me Kriss. You’re making me feel old.”

“Oh, sorry Mr. Ha– I mean Kriss,” she smiled up at him from under her bangs that swooped over and covered her eyes, happy that she hadn’t messed up completely.

“Tell me again, how many times have you been to Paris?”

“Never Kriss,” she sighed as she sat down on the cold steel bench under the airport window, and pulled her thin jacket around her tighter; she’d need a new one of those too, “This is my first time ever in Paris.” She hadn’t even been away from the airport and she was already starting to hate it here.

“Aw, come on. Cheer up Miss Carsh; I’m sure you’ll love it here. Besides, you get to see Ayden!” Kriss said whilst smiling and clapping.

“Yes of course, how could I have forgotten,” she grumbled; more to herself than to Kriss. She turned her head away from him and leaned forwards so she could see down the street. “When are we head–”

“Cab! Let’s go!”

Kytherin was not only cut off in mid-sentence, but yanked up to her feet and pulled towards the yellow car. She handed over her luggage to the man standing near the trunk quickly, as not to get too wet, and scooted into the cab as far as she could. Mr. Hart, or Kriss, soon followed. Kytherin, having worked for Kriss for at least 2-4 years, prepared to have her ear talked off; but she was met with silence. The only sounds that could be heard were the rain drops hitting the roof, their steady breathing, and the classical tune playing from the radio speakers.

It was nice for a change; the silence that is. Maybe it would stay that way... but that was ruined when Kriss went and opened his big mouth. He and the driver were having a heated discussion as to why the weather in Paris was so gloomy this time of year, and how they hated the winter time. Kytherin on the other hand banged her head up against the window silently, yet repeatedly.

Fifteen minutes later and they arrived at their final destination. The cab pulled in front of a fancy hotel and Kytherin got out into the still pouring rain. Ignoring the fact that she was now almost soaked thoroughly. She looked up towards the sky and eyed the roof of the hotel. It was one of those hotels that Kytherin could only afford in her dreams. This was the main reason Kriss was paying for her room.

I wonder if there’s a public, or at least unlocked, door to the roof… she thought to herself; not that she ever planned to do anything irrational, like jump. Though Kriss and Ayden often pushed her close to the edge. Just that sometimes, it was best to get away from it all.

Thunder crashed and lighting lit up the sky, causing Kytherin to jump, bringing her out of her trance-like state. She turned around, only to find the cab gone and her now soggy luggage resting next to her. She quickly grabbed her suitcase, slung her carry-on over her shoulder, and ran after her boss who was already inside checking in.

-

After getting a somewhat disgusted yet amused look from the lady at the lobby counter and retrieving her room key, (Kriss had already gone up to his room for the night) she was finally headed to her room.

“Now, did the she say floor 4, room 83 or floor 48, room number 3…?” she whispered to herself. She continued down the hallways a little ways until her phone started to ring.

“She tried to call me a month ago to sing me a song that she just wrote, but I wasn't home…”

Kytherin groaned and carefully fished her cell phone out of her pocket without stopping and clicked the ignore button. She wasn’t in the mood to talk to anyone right now, not after midnight. She looked up and around at the rooms she was passing, trying to figure out where she was headed.

Already half asleep, Kytherin sped up her pace to where she was now briskly walking down the hall, when a door opened right into her forehead and knocked her down. Just like that. And by down, I mean, like, down for the count. She landed on her butt, which is better than landing on the back of one’s skull, if one has to choose – but it still sucked.

She sat there for a second, thinking she was all alone, and trying to take in what just happened. She stayed sitting on the floor in the middle of the hotel hallway tell she heard a voice.

“Are you okay?” the voice asked. Whoever is was had a prominent German accent.

“Ehhh…” was all she could respond; her head was pounding.

Kytherin opened her eyes and looked at the man in front of her. Her first though was that he was really cute; messy raven black hair, pierced eyebrow, and his big, worried, chocolaty brown eyes.

She could have sworn that she’d seen him before. Was he a model she’d once worked with? Her heartbeat sped up when she’d realized who he was.

Bill Kaulitz.

She closed her eyes again, and her head started to hurt. She heard him curse under his breath in German and then he spoke up.

“Euhmm, try to stay awake, you could have a concussion.” Not like closing your eyes helps anyways. she thought to herself. She waited a few minutes then opened her eyes without complaint.

He just sat there, kneeling in front of her; watching her. No, not just watching her, more like studying her as if he’d never seen a 20 year old girl before.

He smiled slightly and her eyes involuntarily widened, and he, err…Bill looked down at the floor. When he looked back up, he wouldn’t make direct eye contact.

“Do…do you know your name?”

She groaned inwardly and held her head in her hands. Okay, I understand that it’s standard first-aid procedure to ask this question, but if you do happen to know your name; it’s really annoying to be asked.

She nodded and started to answer, “My name,” she paused. She took a deep breath and calmed down, then started again, “My name is Kytherin Carsh.”

“Well Kythe…” he looked at her quizzically.

“Kytherin,” she said slowly, “but you can call me Katie if needed.” She smiled at him, trying to show him that she wasn’t mad at him; though even showing even a slight gesture of kindness caused her head to start pounding again.

“Okay, Katie. Are you okay?” Bill repeated from earlier. This time he got a response though.

She squinted up at him and replied, “I’m fine,” and stared at him. After a while he started to smile.

“I’m very sorry about opening the door into your face, I didn’t realize anyone else was on this floor.” he stood up and grabbed her hand, pulling her slowly up to her feet.

“It’s okay,” She smiled at him again, this time it not hurting as bad. “Honestly, I’m not even sure what floor I’m supposed to be on anyways; or on now for that matter.” She blushed and looked away.

Not that there was any danger of her actually liking someone like Bill. So what if his eyes were really sparkly; he was not her type. In fact, she didn’t have a type. She was definitely not looking to date celebrities. Kytherin always operated under the assumption that her Prince Charming wasn’t among the famous.

“Well, what’s your room number?”

“Umm, I don’t know,” she blushed again, “It’s either floor 4, room 83 or floor 48, room number 3. I’m not exactly sure because I couldn’t tell what the lady at the reception desk said. I don’t speak French.”

“Oh, okay. Well first off, floor 48 doesn’t even exist; there are only 6 floors in this hotel. And second; you are currently on floor 6.” Bill shifted his weight from one foot to the other. “And well, to tell you the truth, there isn’t even a room 83 on floor 4. There are only 26 rooms on each floor.”

Kytherin was shocked, “Oh wow,” she let out an awkward laugh, “I really screwed up then.”

Bill knelt down and picked up her room key off the floor and glanced at it, “By what it says on your room key, you are on floor 4, room 23; not 83, easy mistake for a tourist though.”

“I’m no tourist. I’m here for the ‘Hart-Breaker’ fashion show. I’m Kristöffer Hart’s assistant.”

“Really? That’s... interesting.” He raised one eyebrow at her, waiting for her to continue.

“Yes really. I just go off an eleven hour flight from New York to Paris and I’m exhausted. I was on my way to my room, well sort of, when somehow, I crashed into a door.” She smirked up at him.

“I’m sorry!” he laughed, “I told you, I didn’t see you coming.”

“Ha it’s okay, and thanks for making sure I wasn’t dying instead off just walking off.” She laughed silently to herself, “and I thought chivalry was dead.”

“Maybe it is,” Bill tried to suppress more of his laughter, “I just opened a door into your head.”

“Yeah, I realized that when my head started to feel like it would explode.” She yawned and checked her watch for the time.

“Well it was really nice talking to you Bill, but I need to get some sleep. If I don’t, I’ll look like the walking dead tomorrow.” She yawned again.

Bill’s eyes widened slightly, but he didn’t say anything. That’s when Kytherin realized, he never told her his name.

“Yeah euhmmm thanks and… I guess I’ll see you later; maybe.” She grabbed her suitcase handle, picked up her carry-on bag, and walked around him and down the hall towards the elevator.

If she would have taken the time to glance back, she would have seen that Bill was still standing there, watching her with a look of adoration in his eyes.