Chapter 1.2

Wednesday, September 12th

Nick's first full day in Paris went about as poorly as he'd thought it would. He woke up at four in the morning and couldn't get back to sleep, so spent some time flicking through the channels on the TV hoping to find something in english. Failing that, he raided the kitchen and spent longer then he frankly should've brewing a cup of coffee, before going to the envelope he'd found the night before and counting out the money Lionel had left for him.

In shock and surprise, he counted out two thousand euros. More money than he'd ever seen in his life.

Just how long is Lionel going to be gone?

When the sun rose proper, he wrapped himself as tightly as he could in warm clothes and made his way down the narrow flight of stairs toward the exit. He ran into Anastasia, who gave him a key to get into the building.

"The doors aren't unlocked all the time," she explained. "Use this to come and go if you ever need to leave before seven in the morning or after nine at night."

"Thanks. Hey, Anastasia, where was that general store again?"

She pointed. "Down the street, about a hundred metres. You can't miss it."

Nick left the building, cursing under his breath at the chill in the air. He had not packed for this.

He found the general store eventually. Anastasia's directions weren't wrong, he just couldn't read french. He figured he passed it twice before he looked in the window and realised that's where he wanted to be. He bought a big bag of snacks and drinks to get him through the next few days, and a USB charger for his phone and a deck of playing cards. To cover all of his bases he bought some notebooks and pens for tomorrow, just in case none of that was prepared for him. He was sure not to show the clerk all of his money when he paid, and when he had everything together he hurried back to Lionel's apartment.

He didn't realise how hungry he really was until he wrapped his teeth around the first croissant he'd bought. He'd never been this excited by bread before. He wolfed it down with animalistic vigour and tore into the next one. In a minute he'd eaten three, without even stopping for a breath.

He stalked around the apartment, eventually finding a WiFi router and connecting his phone up. Almost immediately the device was alive with pops and dings as notifications flooded in from the last day or so. Emails, texts, YouTube subscriptions... The one that stood out were the IMs from his friend Caleb, back in Sydney.

[...] Caleb

hey man how was the flight?

i guess you don't have internet yet huh...

we all went to the beach today man, wish you coulda been there

message me soon bro

[...] Nick

Landed safe bro. Flight was pretty shit, but i got here. This place is freezing man. Would rather be back at home, perfect beach weather hey.

[...] Message sent.

Nick plugged his phone into charge, figuring he wouldn't get a reply until later this evening. He sat on the couch, taking some time to breath and think. Now that there wasn't anything he needed to do he became aware of the empty feeling in the pit of his stomach, like the butterflies there had died. He realised how uncomfortable he felt in this place. It wasn't like this was a holiday; this was going to be his home. But it didn't feel like it. He didn't sink into the couch, the smell was foreign, he had to think about where everything was.

No... This wasn't home.

His thoughts tugged that thread and followed it backwards. To Australia. To Sydney. To his school. His friends. His weekends, spent at the beach or playing footy in summer or the arcade in winter. His homelife, before... Before his mum got sick. Before she forgot all about him, she forgot all about herself. Before the courts ruled she was unfit to care for him, and decided the best course of action was to send him here. To live in an apartment that was foreign to him, owned by a father he didn't know, in a city he didn't recognise, in a country where he couldn't even speak the language.

He became aware of the stray tear rolling slowly down his cheek. He sniffed hard, wiped it away with the back of his hand and got to his feet.

"C'mon Harris, get over yourself," he muttered. "Keep yourself busy. Make this work."

He went to get his school uniform and unfolded it. He didn't need to try it on to know that it was a few sizes too small. Of course he didn't expect Lionel to know what size clothes he wore, but at least the man had tried. He probably didn't even guess that the son he never saw was six-foot-six. He was somewhat thankful. The uniform itself wasn't the most attractive. It adhered to a colour scheme of light and dark blues with yellow trimming. The longer he could put off wearing it, the better it would be.

He decided he'd spend the rest of the day riding the metro in hopes of figuring out how he'd get to school tomorrow. He walked to the station and found what train he needed to catch. He was familiar with trains and rail maps, so it wasn't too hard navigating the underground. Once he was confident he could make this same trip again come tomorrow, he boarded the train home.

The trip back to Lionel's apartment felt fast. By the time he made it back to the building the sun was just starting to dip over the horizon, splashing the clouded sky with blood reds and mottled purples. Nick noticed for the first time the Eiffel Tower standing proudly over the lorises. It surprised him. He was in Paris, he knew that, but he'd never thought he'd ever get to leave the country, let alone see something so iconic. Yet here it was, right in front of his eyes.

He checked his phone.

[...] Caleb

good to hear your safe man

keep me posted on how it all is :)

[...] Message seen.

It was just before six o'clock.

Nick went to bed anyway.