1918 [Larry Stylinson AU]

Chapter Two

Harry's knuckles whitened when he took the steering wheel in a much tighter grip than before. His palms were sweating; the hair by his neck rose as he shivered. He suddenly felt uncomfortable, feeling like the car had gotten smaller and smaller. He wasn't claustrophobic, but damn this car felt tiny.

Harry then looked up and locked eyes with his friend, watching him jump up and down on the ground. He did a thumbs up and Harry shakingly did the same.

It's now or never, right?

"Fucking hell, what am I nervous for?" he mumbled to himself and his body suprisingly relaxing. It still rained; Harry had trouble making out Niall's figure in the blue-grey water.

But apparently Niall could see him because he backed a few steps and waved.

Was that the signal? It should be.

The whole situation felt like it went by in slow motion. Harry's hand that gripped the steering wheel again, the other one that held onto the seatbelt like his life depended on it and the foot that slammed to the ground along with the gas pedal. The car moved over the parking lot, over the parking spots and almost over Niall, but luckily he managed to throw himself to the side right in time.

Time.

Is it true though? That time is just something that people came up with? Did it really exist? Wasn't it just the spinning of the earth and solar system?

Harry bit his lip. For the first time in a really long time he actually had doubts. What if he was wrong? Maybe Niall was right for once? For once.

Harry chuckled.

"For once. No, time still doesn't exist," he said and leaned back in the seat, looking out of the window.

The rain had stopped and the sun was shining brightly, the sky only clothed in a few clouds. The brick buildings were beautifully decorated with steel and the people were walking around, some even running.

Harry smiled, looking forward before snapping back again.

Fuck.

The car stopped with an unpleasant screech and Harry got out of it after a few seconds of struggle. The curly's body pretty much flew out of the door and onto the ground, whincing when pebbles dug into his hands.

People had stopped, watching his curiously for a moment and then continued.

Harry's mouth flew open.

"No... Nononononono," he whimpered and sat down, glaring up at the houses and small stores. His back slammed to the car and he started to breathe heavily, his eyes as wide as plates. "Nononono, this isn't happening. Nononono."

Did it work? No, it didn't. He was dreaming. He was, wasn't he?

His chest raised and lowered harshly, Harry surprised that he didn't get breathing difficulties.

"Excuse me sir, are you alright?"

Harry's head slapped up and he fell to the side, fingernails digging into the ground. The man was old, his mustach peacefully resting on his upperlip and his suit just as styled as it was. Harry couldn't speak. It was he had went mute in just a few seconds. He shouldn't panic. It was all a dream after all. Just a very, realistic, dream.

"Uhm," he then magaged to say. "I'm cool, thanks."

The man's eyebrows furrowed, him leaning forward. Harry was quite surprised that he didn't ask about the car because come on, what was this? 1700?

The man spoke up.

"Are you freezing, boy? You should go into a café or something. Did you fall into the river?"