A Shot of Reality [Harry Styles]

XXI. Ultraviolet

A/N: AHHH SORRY THIS IS SUPER BAD AND SUPER RUSHED. SORRY SORRY SORRY GAH. :,O

May 8th, 2001

"Perfect," a seven year old Harry thought to himself as he spritzed the last remaining bits of ruby glitter and glued the broken pieces of random pasta on his creation.

The last art project of his Year 2 career was finished; a picture frame, made of Popsicle sticks, macaroni, glitter and Elmer’s glue. The students had a choice of water color painting of their favorite object, or making a picture frame and putting a photo of the most important thing or person in their life in the inside. Harry automatically chose the second option for the last time he tried water coloring, the paint had bleed onto his mum’s favorite antique table and heard an earful of screams and lectures for the next month.

He didn’t mind though, he had needed to get a birthday gift for the most important person of his life and the only option he had for a seven year olds budget was a measly gumball from the candy machine at the liquor store two blocks down. So here he was, discreetly making a photo frame for his best friend who was a mere two tables away, the long dark tips of her hair dipping into her assortment of watercolors as she bit her lip in concentration. He observed her for a minute and thought nothing of remarkability, just as to how much he adored having her as a best friend despite his friend Tom’s warnings of “girl cooties.”

The classroom was irritatingly mute as every student rushed to finish their work of art and since Harry was done, he decided the next step to his creation was only necessary. Slyly pulling a photo from the netted cup holder of his backpack, making sure the back of photo was facing Sydney’s direction; he glanced over the picture. It was a Polaroid of him and Sydney at his house two months previous, with pizza sauce staining their chipmunk cheeks and their arms linked like two puzzle pieces that shouldn’t scientifically fit, but did.

He was sure a smile had stretched onto his lips, because as he looked back at Sydney she was staring at him with a confused look gracing her face. He smiled back politely, to which she rolled her aquatic eyes in avoidance before focusing on mixing the perfect colors to get the golden brown hue of her dog’s eyes correct. Sighing in sudden relief, he slipped the picture into his handmade frame and glued the cardboard back shut. He did this to make sure that that photo would never be touched, damaged or stained by anyone, not even himself.

 

“Hey pop star, why don’t ya’ take a picture? It will last longer!”

Harry’s spacey observation of Sydney, who donned a sleeveless white collared top, frayed jean shorts and camel gladiator sandals while posing next to a statue of a man riding gallantly on a horse, ceased the second she playfully shouted those words at him. The two were taking pictures, picking up souvenirs and following their pamphlet of a map of New Orleans just as two normal tourists would do; only this trip was one that a celebrity would take on a brief break.

Sydney was more eager about this journey, power walking to each attraction on numbered on the map and begging Harry to take pictures at every marble statue and unique square of cement she found. Harry on the other hand, was thoroughly exhausted and their exertion hadn’t even hit the one hour mark yet.

The night previous, One Direction had performed a concert in the jazz capital. For some reason, this one concert had knocked a whole lot more wind out of him than the three concerts before. He didn’t quite know why; maybe it was the aftermath of his volatile emotions catching up on his coattails, maybe it was the fact that every note he hit he had the strong urge to scream instead of sing. Maybe it was due to the fact that many of the fans at the show had given him letters urging him not to commit suicide. Nonetheless, he was too exhausted to even focus on what monument they were at. He even forgot the city he was in for a few seconds, before the blaring trumpet sounds and shimmer of the masquerade masks blinded and simultaneously reminded him under the southern sun.