superstar: sings for everybody

The news had become a scandal, and another spectacle took shape from that uproar. But what was happening with the life of the woman seen with Billy? The press descended on her home repeatedly, in every conceivable way, driven by their most primal instincts. Everyone wanted information about her. Fortunately, she wasn't a public figure. She could be photographed, but it was far from enjoyable for her. It often felt like the tragic aftermath of two people coming together.

–No, Mom, it was just something that happened,– said Merche, visibly lost. Her entire family kept bombarding her with messages, all waiting for saresponse. Yet, she only replied to her mother and younger brother, the only two people she considered truly important.

–Things with him are always unpredictable. I wouldn't be surprised if he replaced me with a supermodel tomorrow. For now, I'm just savoring every moment of our time together. It's volatile, intense, and all-consuming. I think I've mentally prepared myself for when it ends, but maybe that's why it won't,– Merche said. Her mother, always calm and perceptive, knew more about the recurring troubles than she let on. It was a projection—Merche projected her desires, knowing they could collapse at any moment.

The press continued snapping photos, each shot from angles that made her question how she could look so awful in them. The cruel words hurt. Being with Billy felt like slowly bleeding out; sometimes, it was faster, but only when they were alone did the wounds stop. She doubted this at times, but then she understood two things: fame was chaotic and utterly unmanageable.

–Mom, I won't try to deny the rumors, but it's a mistake. He's said himself that he's too young not to have fun,– Merche admitted, perplexed by how everything had unfolded.

–I'm afraid so. It's easier to empty his wallet than his heart. And his assets are so vast, I doubt anyone could get through them in this century,– Merche added while tidying up the kitchen and organizing her thoughts. She felt like everything happening around her could drive her mad. On the table was a box containing black lingerie, handcuffs, and a blindfold. The sight filled her with premonitions that seemed to shape her mood.

–But, my God, Mom, that's something I won't be sharing with you,– said Merche. Her mother, 15 years older, was her biological aunt but also her confidant and adoptive mother. Her younger brother, an 11-year-old boy, was the apple of her eye, someone she had watched grow up for so long. But the countryside wasn't her place.

–They're calling from work; I need to hang up,– Merche said.

–Why didn't you answer earlier? – Paula replied.

–I was talking to Greta, – Merche explained.

–Oh, your mother. Well, Billy gave an interview yesterday. It was intense… You should see it for yourself. Anyway, he mentioned that Paul Booth gave you a tattoo and that you were there. The intrigue keeps building. If it's true, we might be able to pay off the mortgage next year,– said Paula.

Merche opened her laptop and started searching while the TV moved on to the next story. Her face appeared, alive and full of details. She opened her inbox to find countless people requesting appointments, while another tab displayed numerous articles about Billy. He was, undeniably, the center of attention, while she remained a footnote, a small, vibrant figure on the edges of a world that wasn't hers.

When something wants to remain hidden, it often gets discovered. Once that happens, it seems to appear everywhere, in every place that once seemed obscure or unknown. Left with no other option, she bit her nails.

...

–Come on, sweetheart. You're the only person I care about, – Billy told Avril. He had gone through all the messy details already, and she wasn't pleased. Despite her reluctance, she still felt compelled to ask—after all, they were close friends.

–Liar. In a few days, I'll have some singles ready, though I'm looking forward to hearing your album. There's a rumor you're releasing a record entirely in Spanish, – Avril said.

–I am. There will be two: my Spanish album, Agustina, and another planned for November or January. I've got some amazing singles lined up, and we're already writing. I think I'll call the second one Immensity,– Billy replied.

–We're all eagerly waiting—not just me, but all your fans. They can't wait to hear your songs, – Avril responded, still infatuated on the other line.

Billy, wearing headphones, began a workout. He pulled himself up and down the bar, sets of twenty, each with consistent strength. His goal was a solid rhythm of ten by ten.

–Come here, and I'll sing every song for you. I feel lonely and think I need you,– Billy said.

...

Later that day, he arrived at the Harry Potter set, wrapping up underwater scenes and Quidditch sequences. As a secondary character, his presence wasn't always required, leaving him to observe the detailed choreography of everyone else's roles. It felt like attending a convention parade, with green screens, occasional shouting, and laughter. The atmosphere was satisfying, though repeated scenes brought about inevitable tension. No one enjoyed doing the same over and over, but that was the reality of the work.

He watched as every element started coming together seamlessly.

–I hear there were issues with the tattoos you got,– J.K. Rowling commented.

–Well, I always seem to get tangled up in things. But I can't organize my life. I wanted a tiger on my back, dear lady. Though I apologize for the trouble,– the boy replied, flashing a smile at the author, a woman entirely committed to originality. She was reimagining Viktor Krum in a new light, not merely as a teenage idol.

–I find it more troubling that you don't care. But what else can I expect from a rock star who doesn't follow the rules,– J.K. sighed to herself. Billy laughed, ignoring her frustration. He stepped closer, his gaze unwavering, almost as though he already knew every part of her. With a playful wink, he added:

–Let's just do what we need to do. I'll be the face that brings your novel to full realization. I'm Nordic, charming by design, and my goal is to embody a European charisma—a few words, a handsome face, and my fiery personality. It'll be a hit.–

...