700 Miles With Mr. Styles

Cold Coffee

Cold Coffee.

5:30AM at a run down pastry shop in the middle of Brighton is the last place Artemis Lastrange wanted to be. The absolute last.

She didn't even like sweet things. But they had free self served coffee and a roof that would keep her dry for the night. And they were open 24/7. A hotel would be much more suitable, but she didn't have any cash, so a metal cafe chair would do. The lady sat at the counter was too busy scrolling aimlessly on her phone with bloodshot eyes to care what Artemis was doing. Everyone was too busy to care about what Artemis was doing.

Artemis cringed internally at the noise the chair made against the floorboards as she stood up. She needed the coffee. More importantly she needed to stay awake. She maneuvered her way over to where the small Kroger coffee machine that was placed on a table in the far back of the room where the wall looked like it was mutating.

She knew how to work these things, it was an essential in her...no her dad's household. Placing the small cup into the holder she closed the lid and waited patiently for it to brew. The small shop was defining silence. One could only hear the slow dripping of coffee and the frequent sighs of the deadbeat employee behind the counter. It was no ideal hideaway, but Artemis couldn't care less. Her mind was occupied with the thoughts of what she left behind. And one may question why she thought so hard about the things she wished to forget. Artemis also wonders the same thing.

What gave her the courage to leave? Maybe it was the constant tension in the Lastrange's household for the past months. It was their fault they had expected too much out of Artemis. She wanted to write, not run a multimillion corporation. Artemis didn't want to fall off the face of the earth, definitely nothing dramatic like that. She just needed a break. A very long and extended break. Artemis had no idea how she could possibly achieve this desire. She had no money... though it would only take a trip to the bank to instantly get loaded. The thought seemed tempting. But only tempting enough to tempt, not to take action.

Still, she refused to use any money from the Lastrange's bank account. She was far too determined to do this on her own.

~~~~~~~~~~

Brighton was far too cold at night, Harry decided. Unnecessarily cold. Maybe it was because it was nearing fall time and the temperatures were dipping. Or maybe it was the constant chills that were rushing along his veins. He didn't care. He just wanted to be warm.

He was visiting family in Brighton. His mom had convinced him to go because he needed a 'vacation'. He didn't mind, he loved family. But it certainly did not feel like a vacation. They were extended family on his stepdad's side. They didn't know him. They knew Harry Styles. For family they wanted an awful lot of autographs and pictures.

"Honey, just get to know them. Let them warm up to you! They're not used to knowing someone as talented as you." His mother had told him. He had given them a week, plenty of time, to warm up. Despite all the warming up, it was still always so cold. The cramped little house he had to stay in, was getting a lot more cramped lately. He wanted a vacation along the sunny coast of Brighton, not a half family madness.

He had left the house around 2AM. Not a single soul was awake, and he needed to get away. With a coat, hat, and sunglasses in hand, he walked.

He hated having to share a room with the god awful fourteen year old girl that had one too many posters of his face on her wall. He shivered at the thought of having to fall asleep looking at his face for another night. He'd rather walk for three hours straight than do that again. So he did do the latter. He walked, for three hours straight. He had no idea where he was going and no idea how he would get back. But the silence was blissful.