Basically the life I dream of having.
One-shots/imagines/blurbs about Harry Styles.
Feel free to comment any requests :)
Y/N - Your name because we'd be jealous if it was anyone else.
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Synopsis: harry's a paperboy and Y/N wants to fight.
Harry was thirteen and in his second week of doing a paper round in the morning. It was 1916 and the world war was still very much happening. People were constantly wanting updates on what was going on which meant that newsagents were wanting more kids to hand out newspapers on a daily rate.
Harry didn't think too much of it when he was signing up for the job, all he thought about was how proud his mum would be that he was earning money for their unfortunate family who were struggling since his father went to war. But already three days into it, Harry was finding it difficult to wheel around a cart with him across the town so he ended up using his bike and carrying the papers in a little bag. It meant he got the papers round a lot quicker which also meant handing out more papers which lead to more money.
"Oh thank god! I'm covering most of the south side of town, I know a lot of people on that side." Harry's friend, Frank, told him. He was a year older than Harry and had been doing this a lot longer than he had. Harry looked down at the addresses on the small bit of paper he was given. "Unlucky Harold looks like you've got the North." Frank laughs and his friends laugh along with him.
Harry looked up at the other boys with furrowed eyebrows, "What's wrong with the Northside?" He asked.
"The Northside is where all the rich snobs live. Whilst our fathers are fighting in the front line, there's are sat at home smoking cigars and drinking peppermint tea on their crushed velvet couches." Frank says, angrily, very passionate about the subject of his father and his efforts in this war.
"I thought all men had to fight in the war?" Harry says, even more confused.
"Not them." Frank says. "The government only want the people that don't matter."
My father matters. Harry thought and without even thinking about it, he was dreading to hand out the papers on the Northside.
***
Frank was right.
The Northside is for the rich and Harry didn't like it one bit.
He wasn't use to this fine luxury and didn't think it was fair that these people got all the money whilst people like his family were starving three nights a week. What made him even angrier was the fact that he saw a father take his two children down the lake to go fishing. Why wasn't he out fighting?
Harry continued cycling down the street in hopes that the lovely suburban surroundings would help ease the anger that was bubbling inside of him but he was startled when he heard a shout, "Look out!" His eyes widen when he sees a wooden airplane coming towards him and on the verge of hitting him square in the face.
He ducks and manages to miss getting hit by the plane by the skin of his teeth. He hits the break of his bike, making a loud screeching sound and watches as a girl runs past him and dives straight into the bush in search of the plane. "Ah! Here it is!" She smiles and her head pops out of the bush, her hand holding the wooden airplane.
