𝐬𝐨𝐧𝐠𝐛𝐢𝐫𝐝 ━━ h.styles

𝐥𝐯𝐢𝐢𝐢, what makes you beautiful

𝐬𝐨𝐧𝐠𝐛𝐢𝐫𝐝 ❪ lviii, what makes you beautiful ❫

THE TWO HAD woken up bright and early the day of their trip. gypsy made sure they were packed and on the road to make it to the train for their allotted spot at six in the morning. gypsy had also made them both a smoothie to take on the journey and some fruit, just to try and wake them both up a little bit more.

gypsy had been insured on harry's car for the week so that when they made it to france, since gypsy was more familiar with the roads and had taken quite a few trips with esmé when she had lived there, it made sense for her to be the one driving. it would also give harry and break from doing it all, and they both know how dangerous it can be if they were to drive for too long.

the first couple of hours were spent listening to the golden oldies that the two loved to listen to. it was easy listening and they didn't have to do much thinking as they drove. gypsy would be lying if she said that she didn't have a little snooze whilst they were waiting to get on the train. when they were on the train, it swapped and harry had a little snooze, curled up against the window of the car with his hood pulled over his head. gypsy would be lying if she said that she didn't snap a few photos of the man. to preoccupy herself, she played a game of how many things she could stack on harry before he woke up. she documented it on her close-friends story on instagram and managed to stack his phone, his keys, a tub of chewing gum, a few masks they had littered within the car and harry's wallet before he jolted awake and the chewing gum fell on the floor. gypsy couldn't help the giggles that escaped her lips at the sight of his confusion as he pulled his phone from behind his neck.

"was bored." she shrugged, "you were asleep."

harry rolled his eyes at the girl but couldn't be mad at her, and he did have to admit that it looked absolutely hilarious on her instagram stories. he focused more, though, on her hushed giggles as she placed each item on the back of his neck or shoulder.

when they had made it to france, however, it was a completely different story. gypsy had put her musical theatre playlist on — one that had twenty-four hours worth of music in it (she was a little bit obsessed, but don't tell her that). from hamilton, to les mis, to the show gypsy was starring in herself — dear evan hansen.

after quite a while of driving, they decided to take a pit stop in lyon and go to a cafe she had been recommended by one of the friends she had made whilst living in the apartment building. she had wanted to come with esmé but the girl didn't want to go and looking back that didn't surprise gypsy as much now as it did back then. she was happy, though, because it meant that instead of sharing this special experience with ésme, she was sharing it with harry who she is overall much happier with.

"puis-je avoir une baguette au houmous et des soupe aux légumes, s'il vous plaît?" gypsy had taken the liberty of ordering their meals, seeing as though she was fluent in french and it made everything a lot easier for all parties involved.

"you're going to look like some hummus one of these days." she had rolled her eyes at his stupid comment, taking a sip of the juice she had ordered to distract herself.

"at least i have taste." she curls her nose up at the idea of the vegetable soup he had ordered. don't get her wrong, a good tomato or scotch broth soup (she had tried it recently at harry's and fell in love) but vegetable soup reminded her of the one her mother would make her when she was ill, and it certainly wasn't a nice memory.