Note To Self (Harry Styles AU)

Chapter Fifty Eight.

"Early? That's nice to see," Brandon commented as soon as Harry stepped through the front door of the record shop. It was an usually windy day, and the air created a whirlwind around Harry's head as the glass door struggled to swing shut against the harsh gusts.

The sound of the whipping blasts of air died down completely when the door settled closed, sealing the brutal weather outside. "Am I?"

"Ten minutes until three," he stated, with his eyes focused on his task at hand.

The time was clearly displayed on the clock hanging from the wall, and it did not say 2:50. The minute hand was settled directly over the number one, five minutes after three. He was late. "It says 3:05."

"It's fifteen minutes ahead," Brandon explained. "I like to fool myself into thinking I'm running late because it makes me work faster."

Harry's feet began to draw him in closer to where Brandon stood in the middle of the store with a stack of loose records balanced at the edge of a shelf. His eyes landed on the exposed tattoos littering the skin of his forearms, distracting him only momentarily before he spoke. "Does it really work if you know it's not the real time?"

"Placebo effect." Brandon's thin lips pinched together as his eyes flitted across the name of the artist for the albums. He took three and added them to the Motley Crue collection. "What's your favorite music?"

With the vastness of the styles of music surrounding him, everything from Classic Rock, to Country, to Metal, to modern day Pop, he felt compelled to muster up a cool answer. Though, if he was to be honest with himself and Brandon, he really listened to whatever he was in the mood for. "I don't think I have a favorite."

Brandon's eyes landed on the album at the top of the stack he was stocking the shelves with. "Marylyn Manson?"

Harry's lips pursed regretfully. "Can't say I like that."

"Shame." The stray Marylyn album was placed in the slot labeled with his name, and Brandon looked to the next record on top. Pink Floyd's The Dark Side of the Moon. "This one's a classic, you have to like it."

"Yes, I like that," Harry nodded. His dad had the CD stashed in his car for as long as he could remember. Even when he would buy a new car, the album would follow.

"Good. Might've had to fire you. " Brandon breathed a sigh of relief as he picked up the stack of records to carry it further down the rows of shelving. He stopped at the section for the letter P, and placed the album in Pink Floyd's slot. His fingers parted the top section off the pile of records, creating two stacks. "Wanna take those and put them away?"

"Sure." Harry reached forward to grab the remainder of the records off the shelf, a little taken off guard by how heavy they were.

"I already pretty much alphabetized them, so you should be able to find where they go easily."

The first artist on top of Harry's stack was Soundgarden, and he moved around to the opposite side of the shelf Brandon was working on to the S section.

Harry placed his first record into it's correct spot, while Brandon tried to get a feel for Harry's music knowledge. "Best band of all time?"

"Queen," Harry answered with ease. It was obvious. "Just for the fact that their list of hits is so long, and there isn't a single person who doesn't know a Queen song."

Brandon peered over at Harry from across the way, finding him to already be lost in organizing. "Wise choice."

Things were off to a smooth start, and they continued putting records in their proper homes on the shelving. Each one of Harry's were easily slid into it's place, until he came to an album from an artist that didn't have a slot. He looked at it. Nine red, white, and black circles as the cover art. He recognized the image, because it was one Aubry had worn on a shirt. "What do I do when there isn't a spot for an album?"