GOLDEN (harry styles)

tu es ma maison, mon amour, où es-tu?

(12/03/18)

HARRY'S P.O.V.

A lazy yawn bounces off the close walls of the small tour bus room. The first thought that comes into my mind is that we're in Paris now. Again. The best part is that it will be the second time coming here with Nix, and now we can actually do the cheesy, stereotypical couple things.

I researched it last night, as she was in the shower. I want to surprise her with a lovely breakfast first, one where she can eat all of the croissants she wants to. I found a really pretty little corner-side cafe that claims to have the best croissants in the whole world, so we'll be testing that bold remark first.

Then, I thought she'd enjoy a tour of Paris, stopping at the Louvre, many rose gardens, and the Eiffel Tower of course. This time I won't make her go to the top, even though I know she secretly enjoyed being up there. I could see it in her eyes. The way their silver beauty sparkled with reflections of the city and pure freedom and joy.

It's going to be the best day ever.

And, to top it all off, I have loads more really bad dad jokes to annoy her with during the short ferry trips. My personal favourite is one from a concert a few years ago. It's a simple two liner, and is utterly hilarious. 'What's green and sings?'

The answer; Elvis Parsley.

I laugh a bit to myself, finally opening my arms and sitting up to stretch the morning slumber away. The first thing I notice is that Nix isn't next to me anymore. Her cold hands are no longer intertwined with my own like they were as I drifted off to sleep. Her beautiful face isn't there for me to admire in the late morning light, and her body isn't there for me to take into my embrace.

Where is she?

A slight worry kicks in before I quickly rationalise the instant thoughts of concern. It is 11am, afterall. She's probably gone to say good morning to Sarah, or play a bit of guitar with Mitch. She's been playing a lot lately. I'm proud of her. I don't know why because she's never told me, but Nix used to seem afraid of picking up the instrument, as if an old memory was plaguing her impulses.

I could watch her play guitar forever. The way her forehead creases lightly in concentration as her delicate fingertips move to pick the different notes. It's such a sheer, unusual sight of beauty, something that never thought would mesmerize me as it does.

But then Nixie Oliver came along and changed everything.

I smile up at the ceiling, locking eyes with the photo we took the last time we were here. Her teeth shine brightly as she grins into the camera, her hair such a fiery shade of red.

"Wait wait wait, I'm not tall enough to see the phone!" Nixie pouts childishly, grabbing my hand to lower the screen to her eye level.

I smile over her head, watching as she checks herself out briefly in the reflection, adjusting her hair and fluffing her eyebrows up a bit. I've learnt that that is her little tell for when she's nervous. What about, I'm not sure.

I laugh as she continues to drag my hand down, whining a bit in frustration. I give in as always, letting her have her way. I'm not complaining though. Just that small glitter of joy and the extra beam in her lips makes me want her to always have her way.

"Can I take the photo now?" I question sarcastically.

Nixie giggles, looking to meet my eyes. The sun is hitting her skin so unbelievably perfectly in this moment, illuminating her highlighted cupid's bow further whilst deepening the purplish tints in her irises. God, I love them.