Winter [Harry Styles AU]

one

winter // one

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Lena's never really liked mornings, especially not the ones where the sun is still rising and the snow hasn't even begun to melt, but waking up after a month of uni to the scent of coffee, with her alarm blaring Gwen Stefani, and Kate snoring softly on her small bed, she thinks they probably can't be too bad.

She opens her eyes long enough to mute the blaring Hollaback Girl (a pity, really), then curls into the tiniest ball she can become. It's not like getting up is bad; it's just, if she gets up, then she has to deal with Greg and also put on real clothes, which are probably the two worst things she can think of.

It's only when the second alarm goes off -- this time Fancy by Iggy Azalea, for obvious reasons -- that Lena manages to roll of the bed and onto the floor, and then she half crawls, half rolls over the three feet of space that separate their beds from each other. 

"Kate," she hisses, tugging on her blanket. Kate makes an unattractive sniffle noise which results in Lena forgetting the whole nice-waking-up-routine and burst out into laughter in her face. "Kate," she manages, weakly slapping at her face. "Oh my god, Kate, get up."

Kate actually growls. Like, sabertooth tiger growls. Lena slowly pulls back her hand from the general vicinity of her lion-like roommate's mouth. "I need water and advil, and then maybe I will consider getting out."

It's only the first month here, but Lena's already used to Kate stumbling in at three in the morning, heels broken in one hand and cell phone missing, then begging for a grilled cheese, scarfing it down, and then passing out on whatever available surface she can find in a mess of intoxication.

Kate sort of reminds Lena of Alexander the Great with the whole running-around-in-a-drunken-stupor-but-somehow-managing-to-get-shit-done vibe she has, but Lena is also wary about making that comparison on account of the murder-my-best-friend-in-a-drunken-stupor thing. Such is life.

"Waters in the sink, advil is downstairs," Lena says, darting her finger forward to poke her cheek. "Now, up. Class and stuff."

This time, Kate complies, rolling out of bed with another cat-like roar before disappearing to find water. She returns a few minutes later with a large mug of coffee for Lena and a tall glass of water for herself, and they get ready in front of the mirror together, bumping elbows and smearing mascara.

Within ten minutes, they're both ready, which is a miracle in and of itself because their track record usually sticks them around twenty, but they manage to stumble out the door covered in every knit item they own and beanies shoved over their heads, clutching onto coffee for dear life.

Kate comes to a halting stop as they step out into the unforgiving London air. "Bloody hell, it's cold."

"I mean, like, Ohio was cold, but not this cold," Lena hisses, flinching backwards from the wind. "It's not even technically winter yet. That doesn't make sense."

"You've got no idea what you're in for," Kate says, and then she starts walking again and tugs Lena to follow after her because she apparently is immune to all feelings.

Lena groans, curling her hands around her coffee and cozying up to Kate's side. They walk in silence down the deceptively pretty, frozen sidewalk, holding onto each other for dear life as they push through the other uni students that look just as lifeless as they do.

It was nice, for a little while, walking together every morning until they hit the corner where it split between shops and school, but then the temperature dropped practically overnight and now Lena wishes she had a fucking car over here to drive the blocks.