Euphoria | Larry A.U

(xiii) - Day II

Avant Garde - New and unusual or experimental ideas.

Day 2:

The next morning was really not much different from the last, the only changes being Louis had ordered food before he left, and put a couple of hundred euros on the bed where he had placed the note the morning before. He couldn't understand why either were necessary considering Harry would've preferred an empty stomach and wallet to at least have a reassuring note telling him that Louis will be back soon; but as the saying goes "beggars can't be choosers" and Harrys never felt more like a beggar.

He dressed in a neon YSL flamingo button down that brought out his eyes - he's been told - the tightest black skinnies in his suitcase and his three inch Chelsea boots that Louis claims are "no different from heels, you greedy wooly mammoth" he eats as much of the breakfast as he can get down and steps outside to see the sun glaring in his direction, then goes back up to get his shades and sees the money on the bed; 'taking it wouldn't hurt' he thinks. He puts the money respectively in his back pocket and waits to feel anything different.

He doesn't.

Harry goes with that.

•

Harry surprisingly finds himself - as in not lost - at the bakery (that's literally named 'The Bakery' with a bakers hat hanging off the 'k' and Harry can't help but think about how original the name is. No wonder Louis#2 complained about how they 'rarely' have decent customers - which Harry will not take as in insult - the name must really throw people off.)

"My favorite American!" Harry rolls his eyes.

"English. Not American," Harry mumbles while he stands on his tippy toes to hug him from over the counter. "Whatever you say Aussie," he clutches his left arm with an 'ow' after Harry gives him a hard one. Which would be a lot harder if Harry wasn't so damn tired.

"Lover boy bail on you again," Louis#2 asks as he puts fresh soy milk donuts in the glass display counter. "Lover boy is here for Paris Fashion week, not a honeymoon," Harry retorts back as he slips a donut, either Louis#2 doesn't notice or he chooses to ignore it. "Want me to keep you company?"

"Wouldn't hurt if you did," Harry says after taking a bite and contemplating the thought for a second. That's the story of how Harry knew his new 'friend' was here to stay.

•

"What do you think it means?" Harry asks, trying to decipher the 'art' work in front of him. "If you tilt your head and squint your eyes, ze man looks like he's holding a melting popsicle." Louis#2 says after a minute.

So Harry does as told.

"Nope still looks like a bloke holding his limp dick," Louis#2 bursts out into a fit of laughter, in a pretentious French art gallery (these people take their art so seriously - maybe too seriously) Harry and him get stares from all around and if anything that seems to encourage Louis#2 on even more to laugh louder; harder.

Harry picked up a large hand and puts it over Louis#2's mouth to get him to stop whilst looking around with a crinkly eye smile he tried - but failed - to contain at this guys' utter ridiculousness.

A photographer in the corner snaps a photo of the young gay 'couple' viewing humorous art. It'll sell well.

Eventually Louis#2 stops laughing and puts a hand on the small of Harrys' back while Harry tilts his head to set on the tall mans shoulder and use his long and dark hair as a pillow of sorts.

The photographer takes more photos.

Harry doesn't really mind. He has a boyfriend. So the pictures being taken aren't exactly 'intrusive'.