Six Degrees of Separation ➳ Larry

Fourth Degree

"And fourth, you're gonna think that you fixed yourself"

FOURTH DEGREE

Harry's first studio apartment in Los Angeles was practically a shoebox.  It had moldy carpet, a broken window A/C unit, and a leaky faucet in the bathroom. The walls were tinged yellow from years of cigarette smoking, and the stench still lingered behind. Despite its flaws, Harry loved his apartment, mainly because it represented the start of his new life. Now that he was newly-single and living in L.A., he could focus on acting full-time and finally get his big breakthrough role.

Of course, that was easier said than done.

There were countless disappointing and failed auditions. He'd become accustomed to rejection, and his saving's account was slowly draining away. Part of him wondered if he'd made a mistake by coming here. Perhaps he wasn't good enough.

That's what Harry was thinking as he stood in line at a local coffee shop. The air smelled of rich coffee beans and freshly-baked pastries. He'd just returned from an audition for a role on some angsty teen show on The CW, and needless to say it did not go well.

"Next," called the barista, snapping Harry back to reality.

He walked up to the cash register and smiled weakly. The barista was a short red-haired girl with a blue apron tied around her waist. Freckles dusted her nose and cheeks. According to her nametag, her name was Kendra.

"What can I get you?" she asked, voice cheery.

Harry glanced at the menu board and stared at the prices. Fuck, L.A. was expensive.

"Um, just a small iced vanilla coffee, please," Harry murmured.

"You got it!" Kendra said happily, punching it into the cash register. "That'll be $4.99."

Harry sighed and pulled out his credit card. He slipped it into the machine, but it beeped back at him. He furrowed his brow.

DECLINED

The text glowed on the pin pad screen, mocking him. He felt a warm flush glow on his cheeks. God, this was so embarrassing.

"Sorry, sir, it's been declined," said Kendra awkwardly. "Do you have another card you can try?"

Harry bit his lip, frowning. "Um, no, I might have some cash though. Hold on," he rambled.

He pulled out his wallet. It was a Saint Laurent wallet that Louis bought him for his twenty-first birthday. It was sleek, black, and leather. Over the years, it'd begun to crease in certain spots, but Harry didn't mind. It reminded him of happy memories with Louis— before their relationship fell apart.

He rifled through the wallet and found a couple one dollar bills, crumpled and torn at the edges. He placed them on the counter and began digging through the change compartment, searching for more money.

"I got it," said a low, scratchy voice behind him.

Harry turned around to see a tall, grey-haired man standing there. He handed the barista a twenty dollar bill and smiled. His teeth were perfectly-straight and white. He wore a well-tailored black suit without a single wrinkle in sight. His beard was neatly-maintained and framed his sharp jawline perfectly.

Harry shook his head. "You don't have to—"

"No, it's fine," the man replied, raising his hand dismissively. He turned to the barista. "Go ahead and add a medium caramel macchiato for myself, please. And keep the change."

The barista nodded and thanked him before putting the money in the register. Harry stared at the man curiously. They stepped out of line as they waited for their drinks.