Darling, This Is Paris

“Yes it is.” Then he smiles, raising a finger to brush hair away from her face. He cups the left side of her face, thumb brushing the crevice of her cheek. “Tell me you love me or you don’t, and I’ll leave you alone.”

She dips her cheek into his palm, her body reacting to him the same way it always does when he touches her, “I’d be mad not to love you, Louis.”

He grins, bowing his head closer to hers. “Want to know something?”

“What?”

“I came here looking for you,” he answers as she raises a brow, “your roommate told me you were here. The lads and I’ve got a show tonight in Paris, and I knew I had to come see you at least once.”

“Damn you, Claire,” Eleanor chuckles, cursing her hopeless romantic of a roommate for so easily lending information of her whereabouts to her ex-boyfriend. “And here I was thinking maybe you were actually interested in art history for once.”

“I can be,” he smiles, “if you tell me about it.”

“What do you want to know?”

“Anything or everything…whatever you have to tell me. I’ll listen.”

She nods, stepping away from him. A frown is about to settle on his lips at their new distance when she reaches down to intertwine their hands. And all she can think is: God, I've missed this. She leads him to the paintings she had originally set out to see. Specifically, she tracks down the Mona Lisa.

“Leonardo da Vinci painted this in the early 1500’s. It’s his most famous painting and probably the most known painting in the whole world. Da Vinci was a Renaissance Man, meaning he had many talents and interests like, he was into art, but also history, and science.”

Louis stares at the painting hanging on the wall cream coloured wall, massively confused. “I don’t get it. It’s just a woman…and her smile is a little weird.”

“That’s not the point, here,” she walks up to him, taking him by the arm to guide him to a far corner from where he was initially stood. “Okay, now walk and stare directly at the painting. You’ll see what I’m talking about.”

He does as he is instructed, taking slow strides from one end of the space to the other. His eyes widen when he notices what is happening. “She’s…she’s…her eyes are following me!”

“Yeah, that’s what makes the painting so cool.” Eleanor laughs. “No matter what direction you take, her eyes follow you. A whole lot of study’s been done on her smile, too, but I don’t remember much about it.”

He nods, taking a small glance around. There are paintings everywhere and they are all so amazing, but the truth is, he hardly cares for any of them. Art is Eleanor's thing. The same way music and football are his. He wants to ask another question, possibly about another painting because if he's honest, just listening to her talk about her passion is enough to make his day. But suddenly, realization washes over him and he forgets all about his inquiries. “Oh shit. I forgot the others.”

“Where did you leave them?” She asks. 

“On the first floor or something,” Louis swings his gaze left-and-right, searching for his band mates who are nowhere to be seen. “They’re not even dressed to blend in, fuck. Help me look for them, please?”

“Yeah, sure,” she nods, readjusting her purse and following him out. 

The long corridors lead the couple in wary directions and Eleanor, having dropped her map whilst she had been showing Louis the brilliance of the Mona Lisa, is having trouble helping him navigate their way. The others are not on the floor Louis claims they are on, and because violent screams have yet to be heard, he thinks they have somehow managed to scramble their way outdoors to the car. So he suggests they look outside to which Eleanor is a little hesitant. She knows the tour guide will not miss her (she’s been absent for quite a while already) and everyone else is too busy looking at art or sleeping-while-standing-upright to care.