Love Hangover (Harry Styles Fanfiction)

Chapter 3

Chapter 3-

Abriella's POV

The acres of tall buildings and houses, full roads with millions of automobiles, and patches of woods containing tall oak trees passed by the small train window, something every row of seats contained. The sound of the pressure coming from under the train as the wheels rolled on the track towards our destination echoed throughout my ears, an unfamiliar sound. I smiled slightly, a sense of happiness, but also a hint of worry; not knowing where I would go in this huge city. However, I was determined to make it somewhere. With only a large, black suitcase to my name, I was determined to do something with my life; change my ways, and most importantly, make my mother proud, and potentially live up to her expectations of perfection. In a matter of seconds, the train reached an abrupt stop, making me jolt forward from my seat and hit my head on the seat in front of me, knocking me out of my trance, and setting me hastily into reality. "Excuse me miss." A pudgy, bald, middle-aged man with an English accent spoke from the seat that which I had just hit my head. His eyebrows were joined together in confusion as he saw me wincing and rubbing the pained spot. I watched as he ignored my antics, turned around and grabbed his suitcases from the overhead compartment, sitting back down in his seat, and seating the smallest purple suitcase in the middle of his lap. I winced once more knowing that this small incident was going to increase the pain from my immense hangover. "Ladies and gentlemen, we have reached our destination; the beautiful, London, England. Please retrieve your personal belongings, and exit this vessel in an orderly fashion. Thank you, and have a wonderful day in London." An angelic and soft voice spoke through the speakers, her voice being amplified throughout the numerous cars of the train. I smiled at the woman in the row next to me, signaling that she could go down the aisle first. She smiled back friendly, and exited with her baby girl jumping behind her in tow. I slid out of the un-cushioned, vinyl seats, and walked to my compartment that sat above my head. I stood on my tip-toes, and grabbed my only black suitcase, setting the heavy luggage next to my feet, and closing the compartment door. I pulled my Aviator sunglasses from their original position over my blonde hair, and placed them over my blood-shot blue eyes. My left hand found its way to the handle of the luggage as my Gladiator boots clacked against the train floor. I smiled slightly at the train attendant before walking down the steps, and onto the sidewalk of a gloomy, yet beautiful, London, England 

Instead of joining someone at the train station, reuniting, or running into their open arms with a grin spread from temple to temple, saying the occasional 'I love you', or 'I missed you', I walked alone along the empty streets of London something that wasn't very familiar considering I had lived in Sydney, Australia the sixteen years of my life, likely the busiest city in England. I pushed the Aviators farther onto my face, thankfully completely blocking any sun from entering my eyes. I pulled the black suitcase behind me, occasionally hitting it on the heel of my boots. I pulled my sweater tighter around my body, further protecting me from the cold, nippy air, but not bothering to button the blue cardigan. I stopped abruptly, not knowing where to travel to first. However, something to my left caught my eye; the same dance academy my mother attended, except, there was so welcoming sign, or the occasional dancer painted outside on the brick wall anymore. There were broken windows, and shattered glass surrounding the brick walls. In curiosity, I walked further down the walkway towards the building. I looked down, seeing the glass under my feet, and the dingy cigarette buds covering the ground, an addiction I haven't fed in a long time. I noticed a small, black door plastered on the side of the building slightly cracked open. Somehow, someway, I felt my feet move along the ground through the door, one foot at a time, like something or someone was gravitating or transporting me towards the building. I pushed the door in, hearing it creak as it moved towards its directed path along the hinges. Everything still resembled the memory I faintly remembered. One single, large room, covered in a cherry color, greased wood and large mirrors covering each wall, showing the selected dancer themselves, their moves, and their mistakes. I smiled big, seeing the emptiness, and remembering all of my training. All the competitions I attended, and won. All the hours, days, weeks, and months spent practicing, preparing every routine until perfection was passed with flying colors. When I was younger, dancing was my life, my passion, and my way of venting when my mother died. I would walk, sometimes skip to the studio, two miles from my house in Sydney; and I would dance. It was honestly my escape. However, then things changed drastically. Instead of having dance as a venting purpose, alcohol took its place. I had just reached the mere age of twelve, and I already began stealing the alcohol out of my dad's cabinet, essentially emptying every bottle, and filling it back up with water, hiding any visual evidence from his eyes and knowledge. Alcohol gave me that buzz that forced me to forget about the emotional pain, and focus on the physical and mental pains of headaches, and immense hangovers. Now, alcohol is just another part of my life; my whole life. 

After reminiscing, I found myself preparing for dance. I took my boots off, and stripped down to bare feet, the only way I could ever dance properly. I bent down and pulled the zipper of my suitcase to the right, unzipping the black bag completely only to reveal all of my belongings. I dug through all of the clothes and noticed the traditional, pink spandex shorts, and my black sports bra embellished with pink rhinestones, my usual outfit for this kind of time sitting at the bottom, telling me it was the first outfit I packed. I smiled in triumph and began to change, folding, and placing my old clothes in the large suitcase compartment, and stretching out the new dance clothes. I looked in the mirror and began stretching, falling into a split, and grabbing my heel bringing it over my head. The pain from stretching had officially floated away as I began to focus on the passionate expense of dancing. When I felt stretched enough, I began a constructed routine that happened to just flow to my mind. I ran to my suitcase, and grabbed my cracked, white I phone, an incident that happened a long time ago from officially dancing and grinding too hard in the club. I pressed the volume button on the left side of my phone up, only until I saw the white signal light up on the screen, showing that each bar was filled, essentially signaling that my music was going to be amplified to the highest of its abilities. I started playing the familiar song, 'Meant' by Elizaveta. In a fast moment, my feet were planted at the back of the room, my back faced towards the numerous mirrors. I took a deep breath, and shut my eyes, beginning the new routine. I smiled, taking little, but quick steps towards the mirrors, still facing my face towards the door, and my back towards the mirrors. I listened to the beat of the music, and turned around right when the symphony faded, now watching my reflection perform in the mirror. I jumped in the air slightly and bent forward, bringing my right arm back, and my left pointer finger to my lips, indicating the silence that followed the words. I moved my hand back up above my head, and pranced around, still following the words. I listened closely, and as soon as the bass hit, my arm clicked with a snap of a finger extended to the left. I moved my left foot to the left side, and swooped my upper body down, taking another step to the left with my right foot, turning my whole body towards the right. I was now breathing heavily, feeling all the adrenaline begin to rush though my blood. I brought my right arm to the back of my head, and swooped backwards, almost reaching my head to the ground for quick seconds. I closed my eyes, and snapped my body back upright until I brought both hands together into my chest. I then swung my leg out, strutting forward towards the mirror, watching each move I continued to make. Once close enough towards the mirror, and listening to the beat hit, I shuffled my right hand out on cue with the music, a click of my wrist at the same time with the stick hitting the drum chest. I turned to my left again, swinging my leg up towards the air, admiring my perfectly pointed toes. I brought my foot down swiftly, turning and jumping into the air, spreading my legs into a split while still floating aimlessly towards the ceiling. I landed into a spin on my toes perfectly, feeling my adrenaline rush again. I stood towards the mirror, staring at myself with my arms pulling me backwards into a back flip. I landed perfectly on the ground, sliding onto my stomach across the slick floor, pointing my toes upwards towards my back. I spun around onto my back, lying on the ground, my head facing the ceiling, knees bent as I jumped up back onto the flats of my feet. I shuffled across the floor to my left again, moving my arms sexily over my head, and into my chest. I braced myself, and stood flat, immediately going into a fast back handspring, spinning when close to the ground to land perfectly on my bottom, my head tucked into my knees, feeling a sense of desperation that was amplified through the speakers from the lyrics that the song contained. I quickly moved onto my side, sitting on my right knee as my long, slender, left leg was extended outwards, moving in and out with perfectly pointed toes, and sharp movements on cue with the music. I lunged in the air again and completed a fast aerial, landing in an extended squat, with my knees bent, and chest pointed towards the ground. I immediately turned into a rapid triple pirouette, a move that I had perfected when I was younger. After the pirouette, I ended my perfected routine with a simple strut towards the mirror, feeling that rush of energy and adrenalines almost completely fade along with the beat and lyrics of the music. I smiled wildly, and breathed heavily, feeling refreshed and loose, something I hadn't felt in many years. I was officially getting back to the old Abriella, the person I was longing to find.