sign {h.s.}

kapitel vierundvierzig

"Hold on, hold on," Harry begs, attempting to refrain from his hysterical laughter. Since our exchange of "I love you's," he has been in an infinitely better mood than before. Already, he was in a good mood. Now, he seems to simply just be high on life. Everything has the ability to make him laugh. Not to mention, once he starts, he has a hard time stopping. 

My boyfriend clutches his sides, releasing his camera and allowing it to fall to the strap around his neck. Momentarily, it swings before it settles in its final location. 

I, too, am laughing, though no where near as much. By this point, I can't even remember what it was that made us start laughing. Whatever it was, we both had found it to be comical. Harry, though, was slightly different in that he just couldn't move on. Honestly, if it were any other person, I likely would be annoyed by now. But there is something so different about Harry. The things that other people do that annoy me, do not annoy me when he does them. That is not to say he doesn't do things that annoy me. He does. But, my patience seems to extend much longer for him.

"Harry," I whine, self-consciously crossing my arms over my chest as I wait for him to gather himself. While I'm not annoyed with him for merely laughing, his fit is rather ill-timed. Just as I was posing for a picture in front of the Arc de Triomphe, he lost his mind again. 

He is entirely bent over as he clutches his sides, even reaching down to brace himself agains the streets of Paris. Immediately, my mind bounces to the thought that that cannot possibly be remotely sanitary, though, I hardly think it is my place to make that call. "Wha-what?" He struggles to get up, looking at me with tears in his eyes. 

"Baby, please just--just take the picture," I beg him, looking back over my shoulder.

The Arc de Triomphe is another one of those "things." I know it is famous. Though, I am not entirely sure of the significance. As I stand before it now, I am undeniably impressed by the absolute magnitude of it. Without question, it is large. The mere sight of it is enough to knock my breath away. In part, I am not sure why. Aside from it being large, it is something that is not the most beautiful. Though, the sight of it is striking.

Harry nods his head, straightening himself. As he situates his camera, he attempts to clear his throat. After a couple of times, he nods his head. Over the usual city sounds--traffic, conversation, and sirens being some of the highlights--I can just barely manage to hear the shuttering sounds of his camera; signifying that he had succeeded in taking the pictures I'd wanted. 

"You're an idiot. You know that, right?" I say, stepping towards him. Once I am close enough, I give him a playful shove before reaching out and tugging him in close to me; just appreciating the intimacy of holding him in such a natural way.

His lips press against my head as he mumbles, "your idiot," against my hair.

The words are so simple, yet they cause me to blush something fierce as I brush away nonexistent strands of hair. Harry notices the shy behavior. Instead of calling me out on it, he only smirks as he reaches down to take my hand in his. "Where to next?" I ask him, looking up at him as he looks around the circular street surrounding the Arc de Triomphe.

"Back to the apartment first," he says, looking over my shoulder as he speaks to me. Traffic isn't exceptionally busy at the moment, but I can tell he is looking for a particular car. Seconds later, he is sidestepping around me and flagging down a taxi off of the street. "I figured we could cave and take a taxi this time. No more long walks for today." He explains as he opens the back door of the cab for me to get in first.

"Thank you," I sigh in relief. All day I've been a good sport about walking everywhere with him--or taking the electric scooters--but, by this point, my feet are absolutely aching. The thought of getting off my feet for even a little bit is too enticing to turn down. "What's the plan for the rest of the night?"