i. MEDICINE harry styles [ON HOLD]

xv. IOTA

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userb | userb
all y'all ignoring the lyric 'treat you like a gentleman' and saying it says 'treat you like a bitter pill' are fucking stupid

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— PARIS, France

Adrian had observed that the world was once again falling into its Harry Styles craze. His news feed contained about three articles about his new songs. He listened to both, paying specific attention to Medicine. The lyrics were, in some areas indecipherable, but undeniably sexual. At the beginning, it appeared he called the songs focal individual a gentleman, and he was sure there were lyrics referring boys and girls. However, apparently no one could really hear it, like himself, and he hadn't seen too many things analysing. With an internal shrug, Adrian moved on, knowing he would most likely hear the songs the following night.
The twenty-one year old had been having a wonderful time. He had settled down into a Parisian domestic lifestyle, only talking to those friends and family remaining outside of France. That was, however, until the nearing end of his trip, when he received an unexpected call from a fresh contact. Ben Hardy.

   "'allo, Adrian?"
   "Yeah—how's it going Ben?"
   "Fantastic, yeah, absolutely fantastic. Look, don't mean to be random, but I, yet again, am in Paris. Are you free for lunch, or something? I've got a bunch of spare time and know you've still been here?"
   "Oh, yeah, I'm still here. I haven't been doing much, so I'd totally be up for it. I'm free all day, I'm staying in the tower area."
   "Great! Do you want to meet somewhere at, say, two? Just to miss the lunch crowd?"
   "Sure, any place in mind?"
   "Oof—don't know Paris very well."
   "That's all right, I know a few good places, I'll send them through in a sec."
   "Fantastic! I'll see you then."

The brisk walk to the cafe Adrian was meeting Ben was quite pleasant. He was wearing loose, high-rise jeans, and a thick turtle neck sweater, with Doc Martens. On top of his sweater, around his neck, he wore a crucifix he had acquired when he was quite young.
"Adrian!" The man turned to his side to see Ben Hardy crossing the footpath to him. Like an old friend, the blond enveloped him in a friendly hug, the pairs five or six inch height difference distinguished.
They were very soon settled and had ordered. They first chatted about the New World party.
"You looked fucking insane! It's all anybody could talk about..." Compliments bounced back and forth. Ben mentioned a Davis in an offhand comment in a story. Adrian's hands went numb for a second. He had pushed the harassment and near-assault of that Wednesday night, smiley and back to normal within minutes of its occurrence. It still made his stomach stir and churn with disgust. So, yet again, he pushed it down and continued talking.
   "So, when do you go back to the UK?" Ben asked this as their lunch arrived.
   "Er—day after tomorrow. I'm going to Harry's concert tomorrow night, then I'm off, basically."
Ben laughed. "Harry Styles. Few of us at the NW were wondering if you two are a thing."
"We're not," Adrian said with a chuckle, "I've met him once..."
"I'll reckon," began Ben, "that it won't be long until it is. I have a feeling in my gut, and I'm an X-Men, so you can trust my gut."
"I doubt it, but think whatever you like..."
"No, no, it will be, I know it."
"Wanna bet?" Adrian made the offhand comment before sipping his tea.
"Yes," said Ben enthusiastically. "I'll bet by the end of the year—not even that, earlier."
"Oh, yeah? What are we betting, then?"
Ben thought for a second. "How about, if you and Harry aren't together by... By the premier of Bohemian Rhapsody, I'll give you a ticket to it. To the premier." Adrian was taken aback.
"Fuck yeah, I'll bet that!"
"And, if you are a thing, you have to... Er... " Ben thought for a moment. "Turn your instagram, your main one, into a fan account for me, that posts minimum of once a day."
"My agent will kill me!"
Ben shrugged sarcastically.
   "Fine." The pair pressed their laughs, and continued to talk about anything and everything.
   When lunch was done, they walked around the Champs de Mars, chatting, observing the views, and patting a random dog. As evening hit, the pair split ways.

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adrianingham's story

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i love ben hardy can you tell