Matilda | Harry Styles

ONE

I brought my hand over my face with an internal groan. A defeated, exhausted huff of air forced itself between my lips as I narrowed my eyes at my own reflection. I dragged the nail of my thumb across the outline of my lower lip, clearing away the slight smear of lipstick there. I pushed my fingers up into the roots of my hair, looking to revive the traces of volume it had begun to lose throughout the progression of the evening.

This wasn't how tonight was supposed to go.

I made my way out of the bathroom, my heels suddenly feeling heavy on my feet. I made my way back over to the desolate bar, and returned to my seat at the counter.

"Are you sure you don't want another drink?"

"I'm sure, Johnny, thank you. I need to at least have some sense if I'm going to finish this by the morning," I returned with a small smile, pulling my phone back out of my bag, and opening up my emails.

Johnny sighed, flipping a dish towel to rest it on his shoulder. "They're working you too hard, Izzy. You came out to have a drink with your friends - how is it that you've ended up here, on your own, working?"

I bit my lip back into my mouth, hesitating for a moment. He wasn't wrong. It was a Friday night - or it had been. It was now creeping into the early hours of Saturday morning. I had finished my shift in the firm at 6pm, and met up with two of my colleagues a couple of hours later for a drink. I was only just on my third drink, when my phone had buzzed with another email, requiring finalisations on multiple documents before 9:30am on Saturday - a day that I wasn't contracted to be working. My colleagues had peeled away hours previous, and now I was stuck, in the bar, forced to submit the necessary files and complete the work assigned for me. "M'just doing my job, Johnny."

He raised an eyebrow, but his face was sympathetic. "I know. You just deserve a bit of time for yourself, too."

Johnny was the owner of the bar I often inhabited. On my very first night in London, three years ago, I had stumbled across his establishment, and since then, Johnny had progressed into a father figure of sorts. He'd offered me bar work on my first year of uni in order to make my rent, and he had looked out for me in a way I was beyond grateful for. He'd lost his wife ten years ago, and since then, had put everything into running the bar - it was often quiet, never truly full or buzzing with noise, but he had a flow of regular, loyal customers who kept him afloat.

And he was right - again. Alongside my studies, I had been awarded with the opportunity to gain experience at a local law firm, working around my university schedule, often late into the evening. It did, often, feel never-ending; relentless. But this was certainly the nature of the game - if I were to become a successful lawyer, I would have to pave my way through hardship. And hardship, there undoubtedly was. Sleepless nights, constant work from the firm in addition to the university work. My relationships were arguably.. strained. I had a couple of close friends, but romance was absent, most notably as of late. My relationship with my former boyfriend had ended a mere weeks ago, him crediting it to my lack of attentiveness and true involvement in our relationship. I couldn't argue. I had time for little else other than working towards my career in law.

"Have you looked any more at that class?" Johnny asked me gently, most likely already knowing the answer. I shook my head, resting my chin in my hand. "I think you should. Away from the experience you'd gain, it would at least give you something you enjoy to focus on; a bit of a break from the rest of that rubbish."

I forced a small smile onto my lips. I didn't bother to argue, he already knew I was exhausted with my degree in every sense of the word. The class he was referencing was a photography one, taking place local to the area that I'd shown him multiple times before. It was a six-week program that took place a few times a year - I'd missed the first deadline to apply, due to being overwhelmed with the remainder of my work. But now, university was ending for the summer, and I would have a chance to take it up. It would've cost more or less every penny from my salary that wasn't spent on rent, and it would be a struggle, still, to fit in with the extra hours the firm was expecting me to take. But I wanted it - Johnny knew that as well as I did.