Confused Much? // l.t

02: "Niall, did you just fart?"

Louis POV:

After what felt like an eternity, I left the hormonal, angry boy on the plane and stepped out into the New York City airport. We headed out, chucking on our sunglasses due to security's request. Right when we all turned the corner, the presence of none other than Paul met us.

"Hey Paul, how'd you get here?" I questioned, giving him a hug. He grinned in response, giving us all a wink. Nonetheless, we were beyond clueless. After all, he was the reason we were stood panicking back in London.

However, the silliness left the security guard left once screams were met by our ears. In opposite, another grin swam onto my face once our fans revealed themselves. A hurried expression was plastered on Paul's face, his eyes wide. However, I felt giddy beyond relief.

"Calm down Paul, we'll make it out of here in time." Reassured Liam, patting his back. A grateful look crossed apon Paul's eyes,

All in time, Paul decided for us to get our luggage from the luggage pick-up and then we would go and greet our fans. We all agreed, shuffling over blindly attmepting to find our suitcases. Finally, Harry found the sign pointed towards the pick-up. Thanking him, I trudged on.

On our way to the luggage pick-up, my nose started to twitch. A awful smell rolled in through my senses. My bandmates had a similar reaction, as I saw Zayn start to cough. The odor almost made me gag, which could only mean one thing.

"NIALL," I shouted, "DID YOU JUST FART?"

Once realization crossed upon their faces, the rest of the boys started to gag with me. Niall always farted after a long time spent sitting down. Being on a plane for 18 hours was definitely no help, considering I only remembered him getting up from his seat once. Taking a look at the blonde boy, I found that he was giggling and blushing. An odd thing to do right after you farted a bomb.

Finally, we made it to the luggage pick-up. Grabbing our suitcases once they were in veiw, I hurried back to the main area where Paul was stood with the boys. I noticed that the screaming was much louder then before. Looking ahead, I saw our fans were getting rowdy. Some were pushed aside, security trying to keep them tamed. Why do I have a feeling this is my fault? My eyes darted out of their sockets once I was met with a pair of breasts. This was awkward and throughly disgusting.

Suddenly there was a stampede of teenage girls sprinting towards us. I gave a horrific look to Paul as the boys and I struggled with our bags. Our head secuirty guard gave me a dissapointed frown. Honestly, I felt like melting into the ground.

This stampede is my fault.

Sprinting behind our security, I was being squished into the boys. My luggage was slipping out of my sweaty hands, causing me to panic. Our fans were chasing after us, security yelling for them to calm down.

"No, Paul. Make them stop yelling at them." I mumbled into Pauls ear, groaning once my jaw collided with his back.

In return, he simply shook his head. Deciding that bartering with him would be pointless, my mouth smalled shut.

To our relief, we made it out alive and into a sketchy looking black limo. Before I was able to catch my breath, Paul blew.

"WHY WOULD YOU SCREAM THE NAME OF A FAMOUS PERSON IN FRONT OF HUNDREDS OF TEENAGE GIRLS, LOUIS?" Starting the ignition, his neck became red. From the back seat, I shrunk into the leather. The boys looked over at me with sympathetic looks. I didn't appreciate their pity.

There was a pause as we turned out of the parking lot. We all caught our former breathing pattern, avoiding each others eyes.

"Sorry, I wasn't thinking straight." Shaking my head, I mumbled under neath my breath.

"The thing is, Louis... our opening act for tonights concert was there. Now he's lost in the crowd." Paul's dissapointed voice floated into my ears, making me gulp.

There was no opening act because of me.

"Sorry, I'm so, so sorry."

The rest of the car ride was silent.

Amanda POV:

A cold breeze peirced my cheeks as I stepped out of my New York appartment. After the six months of being situated high in a skyscraper, my fear of heights was absent. The only thought that passed through my mind once my parents offered to pay for the apartment each month was simply, oh shit, I can't live that high. Thankfully, the luxuries of living here made me grateful beyond you can ever imagine. It made up for barfing in the five thousand dollar toilet once I saw the view every now and then.

My thumb awkwardly shifted upwards hoping to catch the eye of a taxi driver. Adusting the strap of my guitar case that held two incredibly heavy guitars, I let out a relieved breath once a yellow cab pulled over by the side of the road. When I shut the door, I fully became aware of my surroundings outside the window.

A growing heard of teenage girls that must be no younger than me, ran across the path where I once stood. Their shreiks wear like a bommerang, hitting me unbelievably hard in the ears. Living in New York, the possibilities for the screaming could be endless. Mass Murder killing 100’s of girls, a passing ice cream truck or a fantastic preformer in Times Square. Speaking of Times Square, I said the routined words I said every morning.

"Excuse me sir, I need to go to Times Square, please" I requested, settling myself in the back seat. 

"Right away ma'am" he replied. I simply nodded in response. Well not right away, I’ll get there in 2 hours because of traffic, I thought.

For the 2 hours in the taxi, I decided to tune my guitars. Once in a while, I peeked through the window, mesmerized by the towering buildings.

Before I knew it, the driver kicked me out, motioning to give him the money he deserved.

"Thanks, here" I said while giving him the amount of money needed. He nodded and drove off, leaving me in the middle of chaos. The good kind of chaos.

I went to go find a good place to set up for the day. The guitars in my case felt heavier the more I walked, but I kept calm - not wanting to spread attention to myself just yet. However, in no sooner than 15 minutes, I found myself in a spot on a sidewalk right in front of Madame Tussuad's.

With my guitar in hand I placed some small amps beside me that were in my guitar case, and hooked my electric guitar cord into one of the speakers. Before I began, I thought of all the good things in life that keeped me sane. Food, family, food, Danni, food, music, food... food. Heaving in a breath,  I double checked the tuning on my guitar - that took a lifetime of saving to by -  and started to play a random beat. Before I knew it, strangers started putting 5 dollar bills in my case.

Suddenly, I heard some more shrieking coming from the right of me. Abruptly, I stopped playing and looked around, so did my small crowd. There stood in front of me was a stampede of girls chasing after a black limo. My audience and I shrugged it off. But still, my mind was focused to the racket. No, I told myself, mind your own business.

The screaming was fading away, and finally I could focus. But the inner curious George inside of me, made me advert my gaze from my guitar and take a glance at what was truely happening. However, before I could process what was happening, someone tapped my back.

"HOLY SHIT." I screamed, almost dropping my guitar. If it weren't for the strap over my shoulder, it would've broke.

Not daring to turn around and meet who was touching me without my permission, I took a step forward. But as soon as I did, I immediatly rergreted it. As judgeing by my small audience's reaction, I should just turn around and see who it was.

"Simon Cowell?" My voice came about just above a whisper as I saw his eyes trail around my face.

Without answering me, he spoke to moving bodies behind him.

"Boys? I think we just found someone."

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I left you on a failed attempt at a cliffhanger! Yay. I tried.

Much love,

~ Saniyya x