What am I doing.

Numero Uno - A Dark Morning

November 2017 - Present
The sky was a deep indigo blue, unmarred by clouds as the night gave way to early morning. The air whispered, brisk, cool as the man in the deep green overcoat staggered down the pavement.
His skin was pale, near sickly in the darkness and his tousled hair brushed just below his ears. Tears brimmed in his sea green eyes, stung by the cold bite in the breeze.
He lurched on down the road. Destination unknown to all including himself.
Harry Styles was not a man given to sentimental nonsense usually. His usual feelings on sentimentality was along the lines of "Right cringe, innit?".
Perhaps it was the dawn of morning that brought him to sit on the porch. To reminisce. To remember.
All those years ago to that one, precious February.

*********************
Spring 2013.
Harry was a popular boy. The type that girls stared at openly because it was a bonding experience to chat about wanting to do unspeakable things to him in the halls.
But Harry only had eyes for one man.
One particularly *gorgeous* man.
Mr Barack Obama. PHD holder, teacher, sexbomb of the community college halls. He was rich, classy, interesting - not to mention physically attractive. Harry just loved to sit in his lecture halls and daydream about him as he talked about the importance of reviving the economy, providing affordable and accessible health care to all, strengthening the public education and social security systems, defining a clear path to energy independence and tackling climate change and ending the War in Iraq responsibly.

Obama took particular interest in Harry because of his British nationality.
"You there, Styles. Do you, as an outsider, that is, not an American citizen believe that we as Americans are doing a good job at controlling the public perception of politicians?"
His voice was smooth and deep.
Harry bit his lip as he fathomed a response.
"Right to be honest wiv you, mate, I have not a clue what you're doing 'ere as the president of the USA bruv, but I can't say I'm complaining nonetheless."
Their eyes met.
The tension in the lecture hall began to be a tangible energy. The students were extremely uncomfortable at the prolonged eyesex session unfolding before their eyes and many began to gather their things and exit in disgust.
Harry continued to bite his lip. Obama began to slowly wiggle his eyebrows in what appeared to be a form of mating ritual.
Several students burst into tears at this point.

Reports filed by the county police would later quote one student, a certain Ed Sheeran, saying "I'm all for USA-UK relations and all that, but really! You could feel the sexual energy with your eyes closed. It sent shivers down my spine. Don't get me wrong, they're happier together and perfect for each other, but if they could please for the love of god make it a little less obvious they're in love with the shape of each other?"

Back in the (now close to empty) lecture hall, Barack stalked towards Harry like a sexy, suave tiger stalking his prey. Or perhaps like Ryan Gosling on his way to make 12.5 million dollars by being fit and angsty. Legend.
Harry looked up at Obama from under his eyelashes. The result was slightly psychotic but nonetheless a tempting sight.
"And do you, as a young man," Obama leaned in close to Harry. " believe in yourself?"
Harry stared into his deep brown eyes, words dying on his lips.
"Yes we can, Mr. Styles," Obama whispered.

At this point the remaining students were literally running for the exits, having left their stationary at their seats in their discomfort. Obama and Harry remained staring at each other until the last student left the room.
When the police arrived on the scene, the couple had long escaped.
That was the beginning of legendary pair - Obama and Styles.

********************
Present
Harry sat on the curb, tears falling from those green eyes. He heard rapidly approaching footsteps and turned.
Obama was sprinting towards him in a very menacing manner.
"Boo boo bear!" He screamed.
"Pookie pie, not right now," Harry replied quietly.
"Schmookie plum, it wasn't your fault - I-I"
"I said not now, mate."
Obama stopped dead. It was the first time Harry had told him no properly.
An elderly woman returning home from a night out in the local pub paused on the street opposite the pair (she is a self proclaimed messy bitch who lives for drama).
"B-b-but toodle pie.. y-you never argue with big daddy.."
Harry turned away so Obama wouldn't see the guilty gleam in his eyes.
"Poodle.. is there someone else?"
Harry hesitated a moment too long in his response.
Stepping back, Obama gasped out. It was as if all the air in his lungs had been knocked out of him.
"There is."
Harry didn't deny it.
"Who?"
"It's over."
Just then, the other woman, as it were made an appearance. He made his way over to the unhappy couple, softly crooning his siren's song.
"I'm just KEN, anywhere else I'd be a TEN-"
He stopped when he finally took in the scene.
Obama seemed to short circuit.  "You have a thing for.. blondes?? How long has this been going on for?"
Harry sighed. "Fourteen years."
"Y-you whore. I cant believe I almost married a total slut bag skank-"
Ken cut in "Don't talk to my sweetheart like that-"
Harry chimed in as well, raising the noise levels considerably.

Across the road the old lady picked up her phone. "Hello police?"

Authors notes
Idk why I chose to open with this I'll be honest.