i. MEDICINE harry styles [ON HOLD]

xvi. KAPPA

MARCH 13, 2018.
— PARIS, France

Adrian woke up six times throughout the night due to seizures. In the morning, when he went to record them in his diary, he found the allocated space for the Paris trip (to which he writes all of his seizures) was already overflowing. Feeling his eyes begin to water, he shut the book and goes to shower. In the mirror, his withered scars seem to glow white and red.

Adrian was adjusting his white lace sweater (to which he partnered with rolled up black slacks and brown Oxfords) when he got an alert from the ticket selling company Olly bought from. He was in an Uber, on his way to Harry's concert, and was already running late—it looked as though he'd be missing the opening act.

!!

— MESSAGE

ticket company

At the request of the performer, your ticket has been changed.
Present the following link at the door:

(link)

This is an automated message, please do not reply.

!!

— PARIS, France

Adrian clicked the link, but it only led him to a bar code, not his seat number or door. He mumbled a 'what the fuck?' under his breath. Eventually he shrugged it off.
The good thing about being late was that there were very few people at the doors. He went straight up to the gate, and presented his link.
The keeper smiled and scanned. "Adrian Ingham?" He said with a thick french accent.
"Oui," confirmed Adrian.
The keeper called over another worker. "Par ici, s'il te plait," the worker ushered him to an elevator.
The elevator took him up a few levels, and opened out into a nicely decorated hall. The worker handed him off to man in a suit.
"Welcome, sir." He checked the ticket on Adrian's phone. "You are seared in a box today, at the request of the performer." He began walking him to the box. "You are the only occupant in this box today, so all private bar and food services are unavailable." He said this with a smile, as though reading off a script. "However, an assortment of refreshments and snacks have been provided by the performer. If you require anything, do not hesitate to ask me, I will be situated in the hallway."
Adrian was struggling to take in all the information at once. "Okay... Thank you..."
The man smiled. "I will leave you to it. The opening act finished about ten minutes ago, so the performer will be on shortly."

The lights in the box were dim, making the stage stand out, but keeping Adrian perfectly hidden from the crowd. The lights in the arena were on, and he could see many people going about, some with food, others taking photos, and many with pride flag.
   Having the area to himself, he had the option of three different seats; a lounge far back, an bar stool and bench, or comfortable front row seats. He chose the latter.
   There was a lovely basket full of various snacks and drinks, as the worker had said. On top of it all, a small piece of card.

Adrian—
Sorry for the late notice, but I thought you might like a more private seat. I've arranged for someone to come pick you up at the end of the show, so you can come see me. Enjoy the basket.
H.

With a smile, Adrian shifted through the basket. A fair amount was alcoholic, to which he ignored with an inch of guilt. He had just opened a sparkling water when the crowd began chanting.
"'arry! 'arry!"
Adrian joined in softly, feeling comfortable that he could settle into an accent.
The lights went out, and a small film began, followed by Only Angel.

Much of the concert was Harry expressing his tremendous vocals whilst flirting around in his glittery black suit, carrying pride and French flags.
And a significant use of the word pamplemousse.
When his new song, Medicine, began, Adrian's attention peaked.
   "Treat you like a gentleman."
   The model smirked, trying to decipher exactly the words.
   "The boys and the girls are in, I mess around with—"
   Him? Them? Adrian wasn't sure, but either way...

When the final song, Kiwi, finally came around, Adrian was bewildered. The atmosphere and talent of the room was almost alarming, and Harry had this inexplicable air of lacking mortality.
   The brown haired wonder sang the words 'I'm kind of into it' with a promiscuous look and wink very directly towards Adrian. The model smiled, almost breathless, and before he knew it, thanks were said and the lights dimmed once again.

For twenty or so minutes following, Adrian texted Olly in thanks for the tickets, and of conversations of the likes. Just as he was beginning to wonder what he was to do next, a security-looking man poked his head in the box.
   "Adrian?" Adrian nodded, and followed the man out the door. "It's a bit of a walk to where Harry is, off that's alright." Adrian nodded again. The man was smiley, and it was obvious he knew Harry quite well.
   He was of no dishonesty when he said it was a bit of a walk—there were many winding hallways and backstage doors. At one point he found himself walking behind the stage area. Someone who Adrian believed was one of Harry's musicians smiled warmly at him.
   The room he was led to look like a bit of a 'we had leftover space and didn't know what to do with it' kind of room. Inside we're a few shitty scattered tables and chairs. Adrian believed it was probably some kind of store room for merchandise. He didn't notice the gaps in the weird structure that made some areas of the space visible from outside the room.
   "'arry?" Said Adrian.
   Harry was sitting on one of the chairs, asthma inhaler in hand, looking tired, but somehow energised. He looked very happy to see the model. He bounced up and eased into a tight hug. Adrian felt his shallow breath.
   "Sorry, don't mind me," he said, as he took another puff. Adrian smiled. "Mr French Boy? The crowds can be influential, I know. How are you?"
   "Fantastic, you?" Adrian tried to mask his unease—he hadn't realised he had said Harry's name with an accent. Harry only smiled in response, then motioned for Adrian to sit on one of the crooked chairs. As one would expect, small talk ensued—about Harry's tour, Adrian's time in Paris and for New World etc..
   When that conversation had dimmed, and Harry had seemed to catch his breath, Adrian brought up his new song.
   "So... 'Medicine'..."
   Harry laughed bashfully. "Yeah..."
   "I couldn't quite pick up the lyrics, but from what I could pick up, it seemed really fucking awesome." Harry's already flushed cheeks seemed to deepen in shade further. "What were the lyrics?"
   Harry paused for a moment. "I'll play it for you, if you want?" Adrian looked surprised, but nodded eagerly. Soon enough, someone had delivered Harry's acoustic guitar.
   "Here..." Harry moved to sit into a table in front of Adrian. He started tuning the guitar. At some point he placed his leg up on the chair next to Adrian, so that it brushed the layers arm. It was quite an intimate setting, he supposed, but after New World, it didn't feel uncomfortable.

Soft, acoustic melody flowed from Harry. His lyrics, proud and of great personally meaning to both of the boys. Harry emphasised 'gentleman', 'boys', and 'him', with playful but sorrowfully. When he was done, both were mesmerised with each other, and the ethereal space around them.
   Harry broke the aftermath. "I like the flowers, in your wallet."
   Adrian smiled, dazed. "Thanks... I painted them."
   "Of course you can paint."
   "No, no," Adrian laughed. "I learnt how to paint flowers, that's it. It's literally all I can paint."
   Harry looked down at his guitar. "Perhaps you could paint some on here sometime."
   "Of course," said Adrian with soft affection, and a kind, gentle smile.

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this is so all over the place sorrryyyy but hadrian is flowering