salt; harry styles

I

It was raining when Harold stared at the ceiling, not quite knowing what his life became recently. His computer was on the floor, where he was lying previously, still opened on the last Facebook message he received.

He was now lying on his black king sized bed, hands behind his head, humming a song that he knew well:

the girl of my best friend

The first song he ever knew the lyrics of. He always had such a passionate love about Elvis Presley, his biggest dream was to be like the man in his young days.

Though he really liked the period he lived in, he always dreamed of how living in the sixties would be. All those bad boys, in plain white tees, baggy jeans and leather coats, they were classy, not like nowadays. Young boys of the twenty first century weren't classy or intimidating anymore.

It was raining when Lynn braided her hair, preparing to leave her flat. She looked at herself in the mirror one last time, ready to leave. She sighed then picked up her bag, skipping down the stairs after slamming the front door, not bothering to lock it. She walked rather fast, pulling her hood over her head, leaving a small amount of her slightly waved hair bounce on her shoulders. The walk wasn't very long, but it gave her the time to listen to my boy at least once.

She really liked this Elvis song, though she knew it was a translation from a very famous french singer, that she couldn't remember the name of, now. She actually liked both of these versions. She loved the sixties so much, she would be ready to sell her soul to travel back time. Sometimes she'd dream about those pin-up girls, with their curly hair up, and their big skirts, and she'd wish to be just like them.

Harold stood up after five good minutes of complete existential crisis, and walked up to the kitchen to fill up the pretty blue kettle his mother offered him for his birthday. What a great gift. He turned on the gaz and carefully placed the kettle, waiting for it to boil. He walked up to the window and opened it, admiring the beautiful view he had of the sea. He opened the window more, and sat on the window sill, letting the cold air brush his face and pull his (way too long) hair back.

He loved looking at walking people from high. He wasn't seen but everyone was, he felt powerful but not judged. He didn't get much time to look around, because his attention drifted back to kettle, which was now boiling. He skipped off the window, slamming it, and made his way to the kitchen to cut it off.

It was still raining when Lynn got scared of a big noise someone made, slamming their window. Looking up to the residential buildings, she wasn't able to see who closed his window.
She finally crossed the road to the beach and unplugged her earphones. It was a little chilly outside, around 7°C (44° for fahrenheit pals) but she was used to cold weather and she basically could swim in any circumstance.

So she proceeded to strip her clothes off. Obviously, she had her bathing suit underneath her sweater and jeans.

After all, being naked on the beach wasn't her hobby. 

She folded everything carefully and placed it underneath her bag, and all of this underneath a bench. She slowly walked to the shore and touched the water with her foot to check the temperature.

After making himself tea, Harold gently placed his head on his window and carefully watched the ocean. A woman was making her way in the water, right under his blue eyes. He was so amazed, the sky was so grey and the air seemed so cold, but that girl didn't seem to care, she fully immersed herself into the water and started swimming.

She was the only one on the whole shore. First, he started worrying, but then noticed that her technique looked very professional, maybe that's a reason why she didn't mind the temperature. He eventually stopped admiring the swimmer and tried getting back to business.

Harold was a law student, though it was summer for the moment he was already starting to get ready for University. His mother and father both left for New Zealand, leaving him alone in America. He had to live by himself, with the small loan his parents gave him, and no, his name is not Donald Trump, and the loan wasn't a million bucks.

He was thinking more and more, and finally figured out that he really needed a job, something in a café maybe? Definitely not: clumsy as he is, it would never work, he would break all the plates and spill drinks on clients.

Maybe a shop, a supermarket? That would be a great idea he would have to check out. Cashier joke, am I right?

He took his phone off charge and asked Siri what are the closest shops open now in the neighborhood. He soon got a list and started making calls, asking if any student workers were needed.

After around an hour of laps, Lynn got out of the water, soaking wet, and very cold. She ran to the bench where she previously put her clothes under. She quickly took her towel and wrapped herself in it. She jogged to the changing cabins and quickly put her sweater and jeans.

She left her love, the sea, and tied back her red converse on the boulevard. Feeling a bit hungry, she checked her wallet, to see if she had a couple dollars to buy something to eat. The gods probably heard her, because she had the exact amount for a big M&Ms pack. Putting her earphones back in, and trying to resist the urge to hand-jive to Grease, she was already arriving to the closest supermarket.

A curly tall boy was passing the door, so she jogged to catch the door before it closed.

Harold proudly passed the door of his probable-new-job, but got caught by surprise from a squeak behind him.

A young girl was standing behind the door, head down, holding her nose, she raised her head up and almost killed him with just a glance.

"I-Is everything alright?" he asked worryingly trying to catch the girl's glaze again.

"Yeah, you basically hit me in the face with a door you f-" she said, holding her nose, making her voice squeeky.

"Ha- you sound like a duck" he giggled but quickly stopped himself, noticing the young girl wasn't going on with the banter. "Oh, I-Uh, Okay, I'm so sorry" he murmured, to which she just nodded.

"Though I don't want to alarm you, but it seems like you are bleeding"

The girl's eyes widened as she saw the blood dripping on the floor. "Shit" she muttered and tilted her head back. 

Harold searched through his pockets and quickly found a tissue, handing it to her. He definitely felt really bad, because she wasn't ugly at all, and that's a real bad pickup.

"Um.. I really don't know how can I help you, I mean, I really didn't do it on purpose you know I usually - I'm quite clumsy um-"

"Talk less, and stop doing stupid things."

He wanted to form a sentence but couldn't, so he just smiled.

"And what's your name, clumsy boy?"

"Harold but people call me Har-"

"Right. Harold. Try to be less stupid next time,and please, learn to hold doors."