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“Sir, Mister International, Sir!”, Fredrik yelled, following the man with big steps. He could never keep this guy in check. Was always off to everywhere, no matter what Fredrik tried, now he was even carrying his suit cases after him because of course Mister International had to go and greet his fans. Even though Fredrik had reminded him how important it was to get to the hotel as quickly as possible due to the scheduled interview in two hours. They didn’t have time to waste. At this point Fredrik was more of a personal manager, than a body guard. Which Mister International usually completely dismissed regarding Freppa’s salary.
The sun was up high, the heat war burning, Buenos Aires might be a lovely place but Fredrik much preferred the January coldness of Finland over this radiating heat. He wanted to hold a fan over his face and peel himself out of his clothes, even though he had barely been in the sun for a few seconds.
Mister International seemed to have already adapted beautifully to the climate. He was wearing his pair of golden sunglasses and white short. A shirt the same colour with more open buttons than closed ones, some curly chest hair was peaking out. The golden buckle of his belt matched his sunglasses.
He winked into the hoard of people (the police had done some ahead preparation by setting up a barricade), flashing his pearl white teeth. He kissed the hand of a fan that seemed to faint. This was Mister Internationals first tour. Well, his first solo tour after the band he had previously been in had split up.
For Fredrik’s taste those people were all far to close to Mister International. It was severely chaotic and people kept reaching out to touch. Fredrik left the suitcases (there were so many he wouldn’t be able to carry them all anyways) and hurried after him, grabbed the shirt and pulled Mister International away. “Sir, we really have to go now. The taxi has just arrived.”
Fredrik ordered the taxi driver to get the baggage packed.
“Nah”, Mister International grinned, “leave it Freppa, I have to greet some of my biggest fans.”
“No Mister International, you do not.”
Mister International rolled his eyes and turned to another fan. Someone who looked far too good that Fredrik would like to have them in Axel’s presence. But the fan began flirting, grinning, winking, batting their eye lashes at Mister International that Fredrik suddenly felt very ill.
He hooked a finger in the belt loop of Mister International’s shorts to pull him away. “Hey! Freppa, what are you doing, hey, aren’t you supposed to protect me? Freppa!!”
“I am”, Fredrik muttered, very happy to have finally gotten rid of that obnoxious fan, “just doing my job.”
“They weren’t.. hey!”
It was almost funny to see Axel struggling this much. Fredrik pulled him behind the car. Finally feeling a bit more relaxed.
Axel looked tired from their flight, Freppa knew him well enough. He tried putting on this masquerade as if the band split up hadn’t affected him. There was sadness behind his shades. As if he was at peace being a world famous star. Freppa didn’t even attempt to look angry. He checked with a last look if all the bags were inside and then opened the back door of the taxi, getting Axel and himself inside.
It was another moment of chaos before it was finally quiet and the taxi left the airport. Axel winked to his fans and his smile dropped immediately once they had left the mass behind. He fell against Freppa’s shoulder, exhausted. “Sorry.”
“It’s okay.” Axel had lost his best friends, it was only naturally he was grieving what he had had for all hist life. Freppa began buttoning up Axel’s shirt, careful not to disrupt his boyfriend’s breaths.
“I love you”, Axel confessed.
“I know”, Freppa said and kissed Axel’s hair. The buttons were all closed. Lastly, Freppa pulled out Axel’s normal glasses and switched them up with the fancy Mister International ones. But he didn't need them anymore as Axel was now safely hiding in Freppa’s denim jacket. “I love you too.”