We'll Always Have Paris - A Harry Styles Fanfiction

Gabrielle Moreau is a 19-year old French girl living in Paris, the “capital of love”. To most people she looks ordinary, but behind her high-built façade hides a girl that suffers. She tries to shut the inferior sides of her life out by doing the things she loves and letting her thoughts circle around something elsewhere—and she succeeds in focusing on the good things in life flawlessly.
When Gabrielle an early morning gets a call from One Direction’s manager, who offers her the opportunity of working with them on their summer tour in Paris, she immediately replies him with a yes. She doesn’t know it just yet, but within the next few months she will get to grow a close bond to each of the boys in the band—and particularly one of them. Before she knows it, Gabrielle has been thrown into something she this time won’t be able to pull herself out of … Will she finally start opening herself up to someone and let them in without any conditions? **Check out the trailer in the right sidebar**


49. A beautiful dream


As the tears gradually stop running down my face, I realize that not only is my head aching, but every single part of my body connecting with Harry's skin are, too. My fingertips, palms, cheeks--yes, I even reckon it in my heart, though my chest is not touching his. Maybe Jace Wayland was right: Love is what tears us apart.

I tilt my head slightly upwards in Harry's arms and try to read his complicated facial expression. His eyes are strangely blank, just like my own watery ones. He does not let me go even though my crying has stopped. His grip around me loosens a bit, but just like a truthful promise he keeps me gently locked inside his arms. I put my head to rest on his shoulder. 

After a moment of silence, I perceive his face in awe, now suddenly seeing everything in a different light. Hovering there above me with his wind blown curls tousled around his head and the dimples seeming invisible, I know what has to be done. How come I don't ever want to face where this conversation is heading? 

"This it it for us, Harry. You're leaving," I tell him in what is barely an unsteady, low whisper. 

He gazes at me like I'm crazy, eyes wide open in genuine panic and a flash of fear. "No! I refuse to give up on us this easily. You can come back with me, we can try to work things out in London--"

"Harry, I can't." I swallow the lump in my throat, trying to choke down the new tears already putting pressure against my eyelids. On the contrary, Harry looks like he's about to burst, trying to convince me that everything between us is going to work out all right.

"Why? Tell me, what's stopping you?!"

"My mom. I can't leave her." When I turn my face to gain his eye contact once again, I can tell by the furrowed line on his forehead that he in a miserable way comprehends. 

"It was wrong of us in the first place to start seeing each other. We both knew what it was gonna lead to," I say with groggy voice. I put my face up close to his and lean my forehead on his temple, closing my eyes and feeling the single tear at last escaping the corner of my eye. "This."

"There's no way in hell I'm leaving you--" 

When Harry's voice cracks, I know that I have to restrain myself from crying any more. Unless I want to see him crying, too, I have to stop being this emotional. Deep down, I know it's not ever going to work--that it's not gonna change a thing.

"Shh..." I cup his head and place a soft kiss on his jaw. "You have to."

"I know I do." 

I lean into his chest and he hugs me tighter as our breaths collide into one, shaking whole. When I draw back, he's staring vacantly into my wall, tucking in his lip with his teeth. A reluctant look pushes onto his face.

"One more night. Promise me that this won't be the end, that you won't say goodbye before you have to send me off to that plane in the airport tomorrow morning." 

He takes my hand in his, and when he starts to rub small, soft circles on my skin, my insides break a little. Thinking of how few times I may have left to be in this kind of position with him hurts terribly bad, like stepping on a piece of broken glass and feeling it dig into your bleeding flesh.

A weak smile shows in the corner of my mouth at his proposal. "Doing anything else would be stupid."

Harry's gorgeous green eyes searchingly find mine from the distance, captivating me like never before.

So breathtakingly beautiful. 

He gulps. "I love you."

I don't tell him back. Instead, I narrow in on him and press my lips against his in a kiss so sensible and true that I hope it will linger to my lips forever.

Moments later when I'm locked up in his arms beneath my bed's sheets, I close my eyes and think of how I don't ever want to fall asleep. I wish the time would stop ticking...

Because I know what awaits me in only a few hours time.




When I first wake up the next morning, I don't let my eyes flutter open. The soft beams of light making its way through the windows and casting playful shadows on the tree flooring are somehow too bright for my eyes and I let the terribly lazy morning mood win me over. Instead I cling to the quilt covering my nude skin, deciding to stay under the covers for just a few moments longer.

I don't want to meet the future. My options have narrowed in on me, and this I've got to realize. Sooner or later.

I roll over in bed, seizing Gabrielle's sleek shoulders, but my arm falls through thin air and thumps flatly to the madras.

That's when I open my eyes and start to wonder. For a second my thoughts twists into negative and nightmarish pathways, but then I jump to the conclusion that she has probably gone to kitchen already to make us some breakfast. Smiling, I flip over the duvet and force myself out of bed. It seems just like something she would do in an early morning: Cook something because she feels like it. 

Gosh, this girl is going to be the death of me.

But when I get downstairs, suspicion rushes through my body once again. The flat is as quiet as ever and the smell in the room is far from fried bacon. More or so, I would compare it to a hotel suite just after a finished daily cleaning, a fragrance of lemon stinging to the room's sheets and the air fresh, as if the room has just been ventilated. 

Suddenly, the place seems strangely void. 

When my eyes fix on the single piece of paper on the dinner table, something inside me cracks. It's not hurting that bad at first, but as I get up closer I feel the lump forming in my throat.

It's not just the letter with the note in Gabrielle's eased and elegant handwriting saying, "must not open before on the plane." It's the ring on top of it.

I pick up the beautiful piece of jewelry I know so well, studying it on the surface of my palm. It's the ring I gave to her just weeks ago. Now she has abandoned it. Alongside the promise I gave her with it. 

I slam the ring flat back down on the table and grasp the letter. Clasping the paper in between my fingers I end up curling it together in a new, impulsive way of acting out the sorrowful yet furious feelings feuding in my mind. Either way, I let the paper ball slip into my jeans' pocket without really taking note of it. 

I run a hand through my hair, trying to calm myself down. When I don't succeed, I angrily kick out at the table and end up banging my foot into its leg. Violently I start to yelp out everything that may be on my mind...everything from my aching toe to the fact that Gabrielle had left me alone and made me wake up in an empty bed for two, only so she could sneak out and risqué having that tearful goodbye at the airport.

I love her, and she loves me back. Why can't things be as simple as that? 

After a time, I finally become impassive. Putting both my hands on the table's surface and leaning against it, I stare blankly into the wall in front of me. Just beside the hall door she'd walked out of hours earlier to leave me.

"Oh shit." 





Everything about the place seems unfamiliar when I arrive at the airport. The planes, the shops and cafés, the gate I'm standing restlessly waiting on to open, even the people I suddenly view in a different light.

When I first arrived in Paris three months back, I was clueless of what the city had in store for me. Now departing, I'm left with a curious mind with too many questions I know will never see the daylight of being answered.

I recall a song lyric I once overheard in a slow rock-ballad playing in the radio: How come when there are no bones in our hearts, it still feel like mine's breaking in two?  

Above the speakers a female voice speaks, her mechanical tone reminding me of some sort of robot. People in the queue before me start moving closer towards the gate check-in. Unknowingly I freeze in position, letting a vacant gaze fix on the room beyond the entrance to the plane.

Somehow I keep holding onto the thought that Gabrielle suddenly is going to come running down the tremendous hall. Smiling as she sees me, she will slow down and approach me, gaining speed as she again picks up a faster pace and move towards me. Then she will run into my arms and embrace me in a long-lasting kiss, telling me that she's sorry and that nothing has changed between us, that we will make our relationship work even if it's across a distance. 

First when Louis turns back around towards me in the queue and encouragingly pads my shoulder, I realize that I've been daydreaming all along, creating scenarios in my head that's never going to be acted out. 

I gain an eye contact with him and try to speak as securely as I possibly can, "Didn't she--

"Gabrielle came to say goodbye this morning at the hotel," Louis replies in a sad tone, looking worriedly at me. He gulps down an itching breath. "Before we left."

Through the gate we move into the flight. When we've settled down in our different seats and the plane doors have closed, I can barely hold the pieces of myself together. As the plane rolls further out onto the black asphalt and takes off from the airport into the air, I realize something: I'm not only leaving Gabrielle behind in Paris--I'm leaving behind a part of myself, too.

The boys and I are equally staring expressionless into the wall, eyes fixed on something completely different from each other. Looking down at the city will only make us feel worse than what we're already feeling. 

None of us feel like speaking.

When I reach for my phone in my jeans' pocket, my fingers scratch across an unfamiliar item's surface. I seize it from the pocket. My lips part slightly from each other as I draw in a sharp breath, identifying the note Gabrielle had left me earlier this morning. I smooth out the crumbled piece of paper and release a breath I haven't realized I've been holding. Apparently the letter doesn't seem to say much, but spilt, dry teardrops are to be seen everywhere across the paper. 

I love you, Harry Styles. I think I always have...and always will. 

Please don't grieve when I tell you this, but...don't come back. There's only so much hurt my heart can take, and right now there's really nothing else to do than try to pick up the pieces and mend what was once whole. 

Remember the time that we had together if you want to; how you took me out to that Italian place on our first date, how you made our relationship public at that gig, how you got on good terms with my family, our fights, how you made me open up to you and...remember how we loved each other. If it's what you desire, you can even try to forget all that had happened through these past three months. In the end it's your very own choice to make.

I'll always be that girl you once swore you loved and you'll always be that beautiful famous boy from England I fell in love with...but at least we know one thing for sure, right?

We'll always have Paris. 

Stay strong, ma chérie. 






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