Chapter Text
James opens the window of his one-bedroom rental in the 7th arrondissement of Paris. He has a clear view of the Eiffel Tower from his living room window, which is nice. He’s surprised this place didn't cost more. All things considered, it’s a really nice flat. All the appliances are modern and look like they function perfectly. The windows in every room are large and let in tons of light. The furniture is great quality, though it’s a bit tacky.
He traveled here via plane, the biggest mistake he’s ever made. He could have gone through the Euro-tunnel, but he wanted the experience of flying, since his parents would always ramble on about how fun flying was. He made many mistakes as a first time flyer.
The first one he made was arriving at the airport one hour before his flight. The airport security line took half an hour alone. Then, he couldn't find his gate and had to find an airport staff member for help because they were calling his name over the intercom.
The second mistake was buying a window seat, which, in theory, should've been marvelous. Unfortunately, when he needed to use the washroom, he had to climb over the sleeping elderly lady next to him and fidgeting was difficult when you don't have much room.
The third was thinking his mediocre French could get him an Uber or taxi to his new flat. The man in the Uber spoke English well enough for them to understand each other, but James still butchered the name of the street so much that he ended up 20 minutes away and had to get himself another Uber to his actual flat.
He turns back to the open window and takes in the view. The sun is almost set, rendering the sky and clouds an array of pastel oranges, pinks, and purples. What makes it even more scenic is the Eiffel Tower and all the Parisian buildings lining his view. The perks of being on the top floor was that he somewhat could look over Paris. He takes a couple photos. Going to Paris the summer before uni must be the best idea he’s ever had.
James sighs contentedly, looking at his phone. There are a couple unread messages from his childhood best friend, Peter Pettigrew.
Little Little Rat Boy
20:36 James
20:36 Have you landed yet??
20:51 James Fleamont Potter.
20:52 Answer me right now or I will be forced to hop on the next plane to france to check that you're still alive..
21:20 You are alive right…
21:20 should've never aloud you to leave without me
21:21 JAMESSSSSSSSSSSSS
Peter and James have been friends since year 4 when James joined Peter in playing wizards when no one else would. A month later they found out they lived just a couple streets away from each other, and they've been attached at the hip ever since. James loved Peter, truly, but this summer he wanted to be totally independent, sorta like a trial run for adulthood. Plus Peter and James were going to the same uni afterall, so it's not like they’d never see each other again.
Yes Pete, im alive and well 21:30
You’re actually a menace… 21:30
21:30 AM NOT?!
21:31 YOU WOULDNT ANSWER??
I just got to my flat for the summer >:( 21:31
21:32 Excuses, excuses…
Im now going to make the wise decision to ignore you :D 21:32
(im going to try and unpack) 21:32
21:32 THE BETREYALL!!!
21:33 (all good)
He turns off his phone, slips it into the pocket of his sweatpants, and turns away to explore more of his new surroundings. He takes his two suitcases and walks up to the door next to the couch, hoping it is the bedroom.
He was right. As he enters, the first thing he notices are the sloped ceilings next to the window and the empty bookshelf above the bed. The room is pretty small compared to his room back home, it only really had a room for the twin bed, the dresser and two people, but it was nice. The slopes of the roof made the perfect nook for the window, ‘A little reading nook’ James’s mind supplied, though he doesn't read all that much.
He looks away from the nook and his eyes land on a second door in the room. He shuffles over and finds a second bathroom, a bit more cramped than the one next to the living room, mainly because this one has a tub with a shower head.
‘Perfect!’ he thinks, grabbing his bag of toiletries to neatly set them up.
The rest of the unpacking follows after. He starts opening cabinets and filling them with his bathroom essentials, then all his clothes and accessories in the dresser. Finally, on most of the remaining surfaces, he unpacks the little things, like his glasses case, his wallet, and other miscellaneous items.
After an hour of unpacking and after throwing on a hoodie he returns to the main room. It's now dark out and he takes in the view once more.
The Eiffel tower has been lit up and it is such a contrast against the dark sky. The streets are full of light and night life, it feels like being driven somewhere on a rainy night. Where the different colours of the light appear blurred through the raindrops and you feel so detached. Not that he feels detached or lonely in this new city, well maybe a little lonely. He pulls his phone out of his pocket, snaps another couple of photos, and sends a quick ‘look at this view’ text to Peter.
He's always wanted to go to Paris, and now he has two months to explore this beautiful city. He couldn't be happier.
James decides he'll figure out the layout of the rest of the flat in the morning. Right now, he's going to sit in bed and scroll on his phone until he falls asleep.
— — — —
James is too warm. He woke up to his usual five am alarm, except he failed to take jet-lag into account. The UK is only an hour behind France, so he attempted to go back to bed. Key word: attempted. James is too warm and he doesn't know why, or how to fix it.
He gets up out of bed, fumbles around to find his glasses, and grabs some socks from the dresser. After he puts them on, he trudges over to the living room.
“Breakfast!” he hums to himself excitedly. He starts walking over to the arch connecting the living room to the kitchen. Once in the kitchen, he rummages through the cabinets, where he finds no food. He needs to go grocery shopping, which he really should've done yesterday.
He’s walking towards his room when a draft of warm air brushes against him. He glances towards the living room. The window is open.
“Huh, maybe that's why I was burning up,” he mutters to himself as he lazily shuts the window.
James returns to his room to grab a plain red hoodie, denim shorts, and a pair of Converse. He uses the full-length mirror by the front door to check that he looked presentable, grabbing his wallet and keys before heading out.
On the street, James decides to stop by a café for breakfast. It’s not only a chance for him to test his French, but it also meant that he could avoid cooking breakfast for himself. On his drive over the night before, he spotted a cafe just down the street.
Paris is so different from London. The architecture is somewhat similar and they are both fairly touristy, but Paris felt more magical in a sense. He supposes this is because he grew up in London and that's why Paris feels foreign. Everything in this city just sat there with an air of stately regalness, it was so imposing but mysterious and inviting all at the same time. It's safe to say James is very overwhelmed by the grandeur of Paris.
He arrives at the cafe, finding it to be the fancy kind where you sat at a table and a waiter came to take your order. James is very confident he could order coffee and a breakfast sandwich in French.
He opts to sit outside near a tree. The cafe is pretty empty. He pulls out his phone to check the time, it’s 6:20. Maybe he took a bit too long ensuring his hair was perfect.
“Bonjour Monsieur! Comment puis-je vous aider?” A woman, presumingly the waitress, asks him. James is pretty sure he knows this one. How can I help you?
“Est-ce que je peux voir le livre a manger,” James says proudly. He has a terrible English accent to his French, but he's pretty sure he said it accurately enough to get his point across. Though the waitress frowns ever so slightly.
“Would you like a menu, sir?” she says returning to her customer service smile and voice. Her French accent slips into her English. His shoulders relax, French is difficult and he'd much rather hold a conversation in English. At least for the first week or two of his stay.
“Oh yes please, that'd be amazing.” He beams. The waitress nods, walks away, and returns with a menu.
“Here you go, sir.” She sets the menu down.
“I'll come back in a moment,” she continued before giving a small nod to James and retreating back to the inside of the cafe. His first interaction with another person in France was a success, he thinks.
He takes a look at the menu She brought him the English one. There are so many different options. James is deep in thought about what to get for a good few minutes. He finally settles for a ‘croque monsieur’ and a latte. As he waits for the waitress to return, he checks his notes app. He clicks on the note titled ‘summer bucket list’. James made a point of putting a ton of things on the list, but right now, he's looking at a mostly empty note. Save for ‘see the eiffel tower’ and ‘find a new running route’. He’ll need to do some research when he gets home or ask Peter for help. In the meantime, he can definitely scout out a new running route.
“Are you ready to order sir?” James jumps at the interruption.
“Yes! I’d like a ‘croque monsieur’ and a latte,” he says with enthusiasm.
“Great choice. So, you’d like un croque monsieur et un latte?” She says, pronouncing his order way differently than James said it, he sinks into his seat slightly.
“Yup,” James says, popping the P.
“Fantastic. I'll be back with your order.” The waitress once again retreats back into the cafe.
Overall, it is a pretty charming cafe. The awning is a sage green and it matches the aesthetic of the rest of the cafe. All the furniture is mostly spruce wood. There are little plants scattered around all over the place with deep terracotta orange pots. He smiles and faux pats himself on the back for finding this place.
The waitress brings him his food 15 minutes later. He stumbles out a quick ‘merci’ and takes in his food. The presentation is, if he's being honest, absolutely stunning. The croque monsieur looks so cheesy it genuinely looks like it's straight out of an advertisement. The latte is simple yet it looks incredible with the rich caramel colour and the simple tulip latte art. He thinks he should start taking more photos of his food, but he's too hungry to start his unexplored journey as a food blogger and just digs into the food. The meal is better than he thought it would be.
After he finishes, he waves to the waitress for the check. It takes her a bit to run inside to get the machine. When she returns, she remains quiet as James pays. It's an awkward sort of quiet, so eventually he asks.
“You wouldn't happen to know where a good supermarket is around here, would you?” James chuckled, if only to break the silence.
“Ah, I do! There is a Carrefour a couple blocks from here. Hold on, I will write down the address for you” she says cheerfully, picking up the pen and paper pad from her work waistband. After tearing off the paper, she hands the address to James.
He gives her another quick ‘merci’, puts the address in his phone, and starts walking towards the supermarket, which is only a ten minute walk.
Once again, while he is walking through the city, he finds himself admiring the beauty of it.
The ‘Carrefour’, as the waitress called it, looks pretty unassumming from the outside. James wanders inside and stands corrected when it is not only larger on the inside, but also way more intimidating. James takes a steadying breath, picks up a basket, and ventures further into the store.
He's in an aisle with a ton of spices when he realises his French is so bad that he cannot read a single label. He continues attempting to shop.
He then realises he doesn't have a list. Usually he would go aisle to aisle reading labels until he had an idea of what he needed for cooking and what he didn't. He can't read the labels.
The wind has been knocked out of him a little, and his heart is beating against his chest so loud he can't even hear his own thoughts. He does the only thing he knows how to do and calls Peter.
The phone rings for a beat or two, filling him with dread, before the familiar voice of his best friend fills his ears.
“James?”
“Peter! Thank god you've picked up.” He takes a big breath of air.
“James. Are you ok?” Peter uses a hushed tone for the last bit.
“Yes,” he starts.
“Kind of,” he continues.
A pause.
“No, not really,” James admits.
“What's wrong? Are you safe? Did you get mugged?”
“Pete, I don't speak french and on top of that I don't know what I would realistically need to buy! Help me!” He whines into the phone.
“Mate, you can ask an employee. I'm almost certain they’ll speak English,” Peter says helpfully.
James didn’t think of that.
“Oh, thank you. Didn't think of that.”
“Of course you didn't,” Peter jokes. James rolls his eyes.
“Additionally for the food, just use social media to make a list for you, like search up a video?” he adds.
James truly didn't think of that. He’s glad that he called Peter though, it helped him to center himself.
“Thank you so so so much Pete,” James says, dragging out the third so.
“Anytime, Jamie,” he replies earnestly.
James says another quick ‘thank you’ and sends Peter off with a ‘cheers mate’. He takes his friend's advice and makes a quick search on youTube to find a short video on what he would need to buy.
About 15 minutes of short youTube videos later, he officially has a list in his notes app. Now, all he has to do is find an employee. He wanders around the supermarket a bit doing exactly that. He ends up finding a boy a bit younger than him in a uniform of sorts.
“Bonjour, would you be able to help me?” James asked confidently.
“Yes! What can I help you with, sir?” the blonde haired boy answers with a smile.
“Could you help me with what's in the aisles?” James asks. He figures if he can at least know what the general theme of items in the aisles are, he can google translate his list and finally begin shopping.
“Yes, of course!” the boy says.
The employee then shows him around the supermarket. Telling him what the text under the numbers of the aisles ment. After about ten minutes, James now knew his way around the shop well enough to find what he needed. He takes a moment to translate his list and he’s off.
He buys mostly essential cooking ingredients like spices, butter, some meats, and pasta. As well as pre-made stuff, such as microwavable dinners and ramen. Though, when he was going through the aisles, he found a section that was just a bunch of home items, so he bought an alarm clock and some utensils.
He leaves the store, grateful for Peter, the employee, and Google Translate. He then starts retracing his steps back to his flat.
Seeing the city gets him thinking about his actual plans for Paris. Mostly touristy things like climbing to the top of the Eiffel Tower, spending an afternoon in the Louvre, and running along the Seine. Honestly though, he thinks about doing more research about less touristy things, for the later in the trip.
After walking a bit more, he finds himself on the street in front of his flat. The building that James now lived in has around ten floors and he is ever so grateful for the fact that it has a lift, though it's small and could fit three people at most, but at least it was functional.
As he steps through the doors of his flat, he takes a big sigh of relief and takes his shoes off. His new life feels very overwhelming at the moment. The fact that he was away from home for the first time in years and the fact that he'd never been to France before. James had a lot of anxiety over whether or not he had made the right choice. Regardless, he has groceries to put away. He walks over to the kitchen, sets the bags on the ground, and starts rummaging through them.
Eight minutes later, James stands back to admire his work, a somewhat clean and mostly full kitchen.
— — — —
He wakes up for the second time today, this time more refreshed. He reaches for his glasses only to realise they’re in his bed. He puts them on and changes back into the same outfit he wore earlier.
As James walks into the living room to sit on the couch, he checks his phone and it says that it's 12.
“Shit. Must've overslept,” he mumbles to himself. He sets his phone down on the coffee table.
James feels a little restless. Maybe it’s the fact that he had taken a nap. He never naps. Or maybe it’s the fact that he still has so much time today to explore and experience Paris, but he doesn't know what to start with.
“Wow, if only I had ran today,” he thought aloud. James pauses.
Oh, right, he should find somewhere to run today.
James walks over to the kitchen to find instant noodles. He follows the instructions on the side packet like he's done a million times before. When the noodles are done, he wanders back into the living room to watch a true crime video on YouTube while he eats.
When he finishes the noodles, he rushes to put on his shoes and locks the door behind him
He exits his flat to figure out a route for his 5 am runs.
James' current plan to do just that is to first figure out how the roads were laid out around his apartment. He passes many shops as he wanders the streets, each one with their own unique flair.
He starts to recognize defining features of the neighborhood around the third time he passes his flat building. More concrete stuff like the fact that the cafe is down the road, or that there's a restaurant four blocks away, or his personal favourite the little book store that has an amazing comic book selection. As well as more loose stuff like which road is the most scenic way to get to a location, or the little alleyway to get somewhere quicker, and which flats look more lived in and less touristy.
As James enters his flat for the last time today, he feels at peace knowing he’s at least mapped out his own little area of Paris. He makes his way over to the couch. As he sits down, he notices that his phone is on the coffee table. He realized when he was out that he didn't have his phone and assumed he'd left it somewhere
“So that's where that was!” he says triumphantly.
Little Little Rat Boy
14:30 SO
14:31 How did your shopping go?
15:03 just say you hate me and never want to see me again James
NO!l 19:08
I SWEAR PETE I DONT!!! 19:08
19:09 5 hours..
19:09 5 HOURS!?
In my defense I left my phone in the flat when I went out to explore:( 19:09
19:10 do you hear anyone speaking cause all i here is PURE UTTER GUT WRENCHING BETRAYAL /j
If you ever /j me again I’ll be sick 19:10
19:10 MY BAD?!
Anyway 19:10
Shopping was good, I got what i needed to make some of my favourite dishes 19:11
19:11 Ok thats good
Yeah!! And i also got to know my neighborhood a litle 19:11
19:11 Your trip’s been a bit boring so far ..
19:12 any sight seeing yet?
I dont tink im going to do any sightseeing until at least week two 19:13
think* 19:13
19:14 you dont tink
Shove it 19:14
19:13 so you do hate me D:
Very much 19:15
Sorry you had to find out this way mate 19:15
Anyway im going to head off 19:15
Miss you ttyl 19:15
19:16 Miss you too!! Cya
He puts his phone in his pocket as he starts heading over to the kitchen. He plans on making spaghetti with tomato sauce for dinner. The dish is simple enough and he’s made it plenty of times, so it should be easy.
The kitchen is quiet with only the sounds of James starting to cook. In all honesty, he misses home. He’s been here for less than 24 hours and he’s already homesick. He misses his mum and dad, his house, his room. He misses his friends, London, the feeling of belonging. Most importantly, though, he misses Peter.
He can’t go home for another two months. So he does the next best thing and brings home to him.
James and Peter call while James cooks dinner, and, even afterwards, they stay on call. They were on the phone for about four hours, just talking about anything and everything before Peter decided to call it a night.
They say their goodnights and, when the phone hangs up, James is plunged back into the silence he was trying to avoid. Though he feels better about his situation, thanks to Peter.
James drifts off to sleep with a sense of relief and hope for his summer, wondering what it holds for him and how it'll change him.