Art | Harry Styles

17

"Merry Christmas!"

He pulls his pillow over his head with a frustrated groan, burying his face further into the bedsheets. The mere two hours of sleep under his belt isn't making any sort of conversation sound appealing, and he can feel his head pounding through the surface of the mattress.

He simply doesn't respond, instead he holds his eyes shut and refuses to open them, as he feels his sister's hands tug at his shoulder. 

"Harry," she drags the word out, excitement still prominent in her tone as she shakes her brother, "c'mon, it's Christmas, we-"

"And evidently, I don't give a fuck, Gemma," he snaps suddenly, sitting up and causing his sister's eyes to widen and her hand to quickly leave his shoulder. His face falls and he goes to defend his actions, but his sister shakes his head.

"Okay, Haz. Stay in here, then. I don't want this version of you out there anyway."

His lip is brought between his teeth as Gemma walks out of his room, shutting the door behind her. Quick to be sensitive - perhaps - but he doesn't blame her. It's a rarity for Harry to snap - in fact, he never does it at all. He hates shouting, the raising of voices - anything of the sort. Confrontation isn't exactly his forté, and though it was only a minor outburst - to his sister, it was huge. Harry had probably shouted at his sister twice before in his entire life - both when the two of them were under the age of ten, and Gemma would've done something silly to make Harry throw a strop, like grab ahold of his favourite toy or knock his ham sandwich out of his small fists. 

He sits up, dragging his hands over his face and pressing his lips into a fine line. A slow exhale leaves his lips, and his eyes are desperate to draw shut. He wants to go back to sleep - but he knows he shouldn't, and he knows it's unlikely sleep will come. It seems he has enough people to be apologising to, in his mind - first, to Sophie, for even daring to think she'd do more than bat an eyelid in his direction, and now, to his sister, for being an absolute pillock. 

Harry slips into his bathroom, showering briefly before changing into a jumper, some jeans and boots and pulling on his navy coat over the top. Having glanced out of the window, it was clear that despite the ice on the ground and the freezing winter air, the sun was bright, and so he grabbed a pair of sunglasses and pushed them into his curls. He didn't hesitate to grab his camera, hanging the strap from the nape of his neck and swinging open his bedroom door. 

"Harry, are you-"

The front door slams shut behind him, and he sniffles as his boots crunch on the gravel of the driveway. He walks in a straight line, fidgeting nervously with the one of the ring clad fingers on his right hand. He can feel tears threatening to spill, and he's not quite sure why. His eyes are stinging, and his lip is trembling, and he's tempted to slap himself for it. He's so overwhelmed - yet there's nothing to be overwhelmed by. It's just all wrong.

The streets of his hometown are bare; empty as he's ever seen them - it's barely eight o'clock on a Wednesday morning; and despite it being Christmas, you'd think nobody had ever stepped foot on these streets. They're untouched, clear.

Harry's always loved Manchester. The busy traffic and the cruel voices of men in a hurry are often overwritten by the soft, comforting smell wavering from the bakery he used to work at, and by the gentleness of the old ladies carrying their newspapers and shopping bags which he always offers to help with. But somehow the simplistic surroundings of the place he's called home since the day he was born aren't enough to console him. He's shaking, and it isn't due to the cold - he's never been so disappointed in himself in his life. Not since he'd dropped his dad's favourite camera back when he was four, and he'd sobbed in a guilty apology despite his dad's insistence that it could easily be replaced. But now, he's possibly reversed the workings of a relationship he was desperate to build, and managed to go and piss off his family while he was at it.

A light layer of snow coats the pavement, and he kicks meaninglessly at a clump of white. A slow exhale leaves his lips, as the traffic light changes from green to red, despite the lack of cars on the road. He lifts his camera, finger brushing smoothly over the button before he presses down on it. As he brings his camera back down to press lightly against his stomach, he glances around, noting his surroundings; still with no sign of life. 

He isn't sure what comes over him, but in a second his back is pressed against the snow, and his eyes face the sky - situated right in the centre of the road. The back of his neck is surely growing red with cold - he's lying flat in the middle of the road on a bed of snow - and he drags his teeth over his lip. He lifts his camera, snapping two brief shots of the sky, before allowing it to rest on his ribs, his eyes fluttering shut for a brief moment.

A car door slams shut, yet he's not jolted from his thoughts until there's a frame towering over him, the presence of another made known only by the sound of a shifting foot. Harry's eyes open, and he looks up - eyes landing on an unfamiliar face.

"Do you always sleep in the road?"

A girl - pale face and blonde hair, her skin freckly and eyebrows arched. 

"No," Harry sits up, embarrassed, cheeks flushing. He stands, "I wasn't sleeping."

"Your eyes were closed," she returns, as he awkwardly brushes the snow off the back of his jeans. He looks over - a car is a few paces away, the drivers' door open.

"I guess they were," he exhales, rubbing the back of his neck, "sorry."

"It's okay, I just wasn't sure if you were on some suicide mission, or if you were attempting to recreate the Notebook," she grins, and a small smile pulls on his lips. That's his favourite movie.

"I'll go with the latter," he shrugs shyly, "m'not sure I've hit rock bottom quite yet." A lie.

"I'm Elle," she smiles, "I only moved here a few months ago, but I'm not sure I've ever seen you around?"

"I-Um, I'm Harry," he tries his best to smile back, "I-I moved to New York a few m-months ago." He wants to slap himself for stuttering, as usual.

"Nice to meet you, Harry - um, can I give you a ride somewhere?" she asks, a genuine smile on her face.

Harry's eyes widen in surprise at her kind offer, "Y-Yes, if you wouldn't mind. I need to go home."

"Get in," she nods towards him, and without much thought, he follows, getting into the vehicle she'd discarded.

Harry tells her the address, and since it's only a few minutes away - thankfully, not much conversation is to be made. He's not quite sure why he accepted her offer of a life - maybe it was just nice to see someone new with a genuine offer - not that he'd ever seen much different. 

"So what's your reason for living in New York?" she asks, as he looks out the window.

"Uni," he replies, as she glances at his camera, "Art."

"Do you have a girlfriend over there or something?"

He swallows thickly. What an odd question to ask someone after knowing them for less than five minutes, he can't help but think. But rather than voice that opinion, he merely shakes his head. He notices that an extensive amount of her gums show when she grins, and he purses his lips in thought, brushing off her nosiness.

"W-What were you driving around on Christmas morning for?" he plucks up the courage to ask her.

"No particular reason," she shrugs, "boredom. This is it, right?" The car comes to a halt outside of Harry's house.

"Yeah, thank you. Was nice to meet you, Elle," he shoots her a small smile, opening the door and stepping out as she rolls down the window.

"It's no problem," she calls through the gap, "hopefully I'll be seeing you around. Merry Christmas." And with that, she drives away, and Harry heads up to his front door, pushing it open.

"Harry?" His mother's voice sounds in an instant, and he winces slightly, as she walks into the hallway with her arms folded, "I think we need to have a little chat."

-

hi, i've been away for a long fucking time n i'm so sorry about that. it's been a month since i updated, and this was beyond a shitty update and nothing more than a filler, and i'm so sorry for that :( i've had no muse and i've found it SO hard to write, but i'm trying my best, and i promise things will pick up soon <3 

- S xoxo