The Future Is Now - Larry Stylinson

Chapter 1

Harry didn't manage to get to sleep until late, too worked up and excited about the day ahead of him in the morning. He'd been kind of torn about auditioning for the X-Factor. On the one hand, he wanted to get a professional opinion on his singing, someone who wasn't his mother. On the other hand, it was likely to be televised and he wasn't sure he'd be able to handle the rejection if they didn't like him. Still, Anne had pushed him until he'd agreed and he was all signed up, there was no getting out of it unless he fell sick or managed to get himself killed beforehand.

He'd fallen asleep in his single bed in his bedroom, surrounded by posters of the Arctic Monkeys and photos he'd taken himself. When he woke up, he was in a plush king sized bed in a lavishly decorated room that he didn't recognize at all.

Harry sat up, looking around him and frowning. He had a habit of sleep talking and sleep walking, but he'd never gotten into someone else's bed, especially not even in his own house because the room looked nothing like Anne or Gemma's.

Wherever he was, it looked expensive. The bed was huge, with soft to the touch sheets and a thick, warm blanket that had been shoved to the bottom of the bed and left Harry uncovered. There were abstract looking paintings hanging on the wall, along with photographs that he didn't look too closely at, and a huge flat screen on the other side of the room. Harry glanced around and saw clothes scattered carelessly along the ground, an expensive and foreign looking phone on the night stand, and the door cracked open just a little.

He could hear singing, like the radio was on and someone was joining in, and bright laughter over top of it. It sounded a little distant, probably on the other side of the building, wherever Harry was. He thought maybe he'd wandered into some rich person's house and fallen asleep in a guest bedroom, although the room certainly looked lived in.

Harry sighed, swinging his legs over to the side of the bed and stood up, figuring he should try to sneak out and find his way home, or maybe apologize to the owners of the house and try to get a ride home. He was wearing unfamiliar black boxers, but he didn't really think much of it until he crossed the room and movement caught his eye.

It was himself in the mirror, but not really. The Harry in the mirror looked wildly different, tall where Harry was short, lean and muscled where Harry still had baby fat. There were tattoos all over his chest and arms, some even on his feet and ankles. This Harry looked older with longer, less curly hair and just so completely different from what Harry was used to that he spent over a minute just gaping at himself in the mirror.

Harry looked down at himself and sure enough, there were swallows on his chest and a butterfly over his abs- he had abs for Christ's sake- and the mirror wasn't somehow lying or tricking him. He looked like he'd aged overnight and the difference to what Harry had looked like before he'd fallen asleep was startling.

"What the hell?" he muttered to himself, and even his voice was different, deeper. He scratched at the butterfly- or was it a moth?- on his belly to make sure it wasn't a temporary tattoo someone had stuck on him as a joke. Nothing flaked off under his fingernails and he took a deep breath, trying to quell the rising panic he could feel in his throat.

"Harry!" someone called, sounding distant but getting closer. The voice was definitely male but was much higher than his own. "Hurry up, breakfast is getting cold."