Euphoria | Larry A.U

(ii) - Unaware

Unaware: having no knowledge of a situation or a fact.

Louis was too busy checking the man out to realize he had a Kodak camera strapped to his neck.

The suspense of the entire situation dies because the goddamn camera explains why he even came in the first place.

"I'm guessing you're going to take pictures of me for the magazine," Louis asks looking at Harry and trying to be subtle as he analyses his outfit.

He wore a long black trench coat, that Louis would guess is Burberry but then again you can never be too sure considering the copy-cats that littered the fashion world lately. A plain black button-down open all the way to his navel, which Louis would praise but can't find the will to because it's January, it's freezing balls outside.

His ageless black skinny jeans wrapped around his surprisingly thick thighs, and shoes that look to be non-other than YSL Chelsea ankle boots.

The kid had good taste and Louis had eyes, so he was allowed to admire (from afar).

His entire outfit was one big contradiction to what Louis himself was branding.

He was going floral today, Givenchy botanical blossom print trainers on his feet. The lilac knitted sweater Vanessa bought him from McQueen last week complimenting his eyes and smelling of cut grass and sitting fresh on his Hugo Boss cologne.

He paired the sweater with light blue trousers, a gift from Karl Lagerfeld himself, He had even brought Margiela aviators for when he's outside - regardless of barely any sun exposure in London - and his Gucci leather pouch because who ever said men couldn't carry around feminine bags was a walking sin and a liar. If he was miserable on the inside and his nose was eating away at itself as it itches for a refill he might as well look straight out of a GQ magazine while he is.

"I have some designing to get done for right now, so would it be a bother if I asked you to come back later? You're even invited to join me for a luncheon," He smiled as widely as his 'fashionably' stubbly cheeks could stretch.

"I have work later too? So if I can just snap a couple photos? That'd be dapper," Harry responded, dimples prominent on his smooth skin. It was like they were in a battle of who could sound nicer, or who could smile wider (or at least Louis thought, he's coming down from a high so his thoughts are not to be regarded)

"Okay fine. But can you give me a couple of minutes?" Louis asks already sitting back comfortably on his Fendi office chair.

He picked up the phone to ring Christy and sent a silent prayer to the gods that Harry didn't know French because he was in for it.

"Obteniur du thé pour mon invité j'ai peur il assis wont encore." *

Louis slowly turned around to see Harrys hands frozen amidst going to take off his trench coat to accommodate the warm air breezing through the office, but didn't because Louis speaking fluent French was just that charming.

Oh, Harry was in for it.

•

"Oh my god! You should totally make that one pink," Harry says for the billionth time.

"How many times do I have to tell you? Pink is not in this season," Louis sounded vaguely similar to his girlfriend (or ex? He didn't know what to refer to her as) but Vanessa had been very correct. Pink just wasn't in anymore.

"But whyyyy?" Harry whines petulantly.

"I don't know. Probably because it's winter? And people enjoy darker colors for the cold season. And if I'm wrong go ask Vogue about that," Louis answers, waving his ink covered hands dismissively. This kid was really getting on his nerves. He was starting to feel a throbbing pain encompass one side of his head, a vein dancing on the stretched skin on his forehead all because he just needed a moment to himself to get a breath of what he was missing out on, his heart rate felt like it was slowing down and a paranoid voice in the back of his head whispered "you're gonna die". So this Harry child was not helping.