#RWRB Europtrip

[welcometololaland]

Some sort of Eurotrip?? I love self control Lola she's very unhinged.

okay for you and @wtfuckevenknows who also sent me an ask on this (thank you both kindly):

Firstly, the premise: Alex and Henry become accidental travelling companions in Europe for a month, after Alex's flight is delayed and his original plans with June and Nora fall through, and Pez (mysteriously) abandons Henry in Rome.

Secondly, my defence as to why it is not finished: I started this in December 2021. It's 30k. It's probably going to be 160. It's just a lot. I simply cannot fathom how insane this WIP is and why I decided to write it, but I also LOVE it. I updated it in Barcelona, randomly. It's never far from my mind it's just so daunting.

Snippet for you (hungover Alex in a 14 bed dorm in Florence aka. Henry's worst nightmare):

“I think I might be dead,” Alex moans, squeezing his eyes shut and rolling his head into Henry’s pillow.

Henry rocks back on his heels slightly and peers down into the bunk bed. He’s made an admirable effort at gently rousing Alex, but it appears that stronger methods may be required. “I can assure you that you are not,” Henry replies. “It appears that you are still able to speak, for example.”

Alex moans softly again and squints back at Henry through his eye that is not squished into the pillowcase. “You’re looking offensively fresh this morning.”

“Is that supposed to be an insult?” Henry asks in a polite tone. He’s fairly sure Alex would be violently ill if he recounted how many things he’d managed to do before trying to wake the apparent-dead. For starters, he’d had a mild panic over the state of the bathroom, walked halfway to the Mercato to buy flip-flops, walked back via a bakery for something to eat and then had a very long shower until his hands went pruney. 

“Yes,” Alex retorts, clapping a hand over his eyes. “I hate your aura of cleanliness. Also, why am I in your bed?”

Henry swallows and silently praises his past-self for making good decisions. “I believe it’s because you couldn’t climb the ladder into your own.”

“Of course I couldn’t,” Alex grumbles to himself. Henry thinks he hears him say 'fucking tequila' under his breath. “Wait. Where did you sleep?”

“In your bed,” Henry says, perhaps too quickly. “It’s fortunate you made it for me,” he adds in a sardonic tone.

“Ugh,” Alex groans. “My mouth tastes like glue.”

“Charming,” Henry muses, and wonders whether it’s possible to make Alex’s resurrection happen any faster.