Harry Styles Oneshots

18th Birthday 🍋

Turning 18 was a right of passage. It meant finally being an adult. That in most countries, you were old enough to drink. It meant graduating from high school and moving on to bigger and better things. Soon, the responsibility of your life would soon lie squarely on your shoulders. And, most importantly, your clock appears.

Everyone on earth had one. On your 18th birthday, a clock appears on your right wrist, counting down the time until you met the person meant for you. When the two of you would finally meet in person, it would beep, like an alarm clock, and you'd know for sure that you were meant to be. And in 2012, it was finally your year. You hoped that you were one of the lucky few that had mere minutes until your first meeting, but most likely, you would join the many who had quite a few years. The anticipation was killing you; ever since you had started your teen years, you were desperate for the day you would finally get your clock. That desperation could only be second to waiting for the day you actually meet them.

And now, the day you got your clock had finally arrived! You woke up at exactly 5:13 am, too anxious and excited to sleep well. When you looked down at your wrist, you gasped. It looked like a tattoo, the black ink that depicted a digital watch now etched into your skin. The small white lettering along the bottom read "years, months, weeks, days, hours, minutes, seconds" from left to right. Above the lettering were bold white numbers, slowly ticking down.

*8 Years, 0 Months, 3 Weeks, 1 Day, 2 Hours, 32 Minutes, 14 Seconds*

Eight years. You sighed, not able to help being just a bit disappointed. Sure, you expected it to be a few years. But by a few, you were thinking three or four. Not eight! Though you were a bit downtrodden, you knew that the fates knew what they were doing. If eight years was what they wanted for you, then you would accept it, and be very excited for when the time arrived!

JANUARY 30TH, 2020

The past eight years of your life were, in all honesty, not too shabby. After getting a degree in film, you moved to Malibu, California, and worked cameras for various commercials, music videos, and movies in the business. It was pretty cool, getting to be behind the scenes for so many interesting projects. Out of the three of them, you definitely preferred music videos. Movies, though really cool, were far too long, and commercials were kind of bland. And you got to hear music from some of your favorite artists, which was really cool!

Today was no exception to that. It was 4 am (you had to wake up early on shoot days to go set up), and you were yanking on light blue jeans, a yellow Fine Line t-shirt, and a lavender sweatshirt, thinking about how excited you were to help film Watermelon Sugar. You were a big fan of Harry's music, and you couldn't wait to work with him! You, of course, already knew the video's concept, so ideas on how to film the scenes with the various models and fruit were running through your head. You were so lost in thought that you almost forgot to look down at your wrist.

*0 Years, 0 Months, 0 Weeks, 0 Days, 3 Hours, 45 Minutes, 53 Seconds*

You almost screamed in excitement, but managed to hold back; you didn't think your neighbors would appreciate your excited outburst. You had almost totally forgotten that today was the day! And since the video shoot was starting at 8 am sharp, you had to be meeting your other half on the set! Maybe it was one of the beautiful models that would be making an appearance, maybe one of the sound engineers, or maybe one of the runners. No matter who it was, you couldn't wait! Eight years had been far too long of a time to wait. You briefly reconsidered your dressed down attire, but figured you'd need the sweatshirt for the breezy morning on the beach. And since you were behind the camera, you didn't really need to look like a movie star.

You ate a quick breakfast and practically sprinted out of the door. You carried your two duffel bags loaded with all of the essentials (some equipment was provided, but you also brought some of your own stuff) and stuffed them into the trunk, flung the car door open, shoved the key into the ignition, and drove as fast as you were able to without getting pulled over. When you pulled up to the shoot location a short time later, you glanced down at your clock once more.