Angels in Hell (Larry Stylinson)

Chapter 2

February 21st, 2013
Alternate Universe

I open my eyes, hearing chirping of the birds outside the window. I stare at the ceiling again, just like last night. I yawn.

"Niall, are you awake?"

No answer. Just the birds outside. I don't know why I'd think Niall would be in here still and not down in the hotel lobby eating breakfast. It's Niall. The hungriest teenage boy in history. Wait. I'm starting to realize something strange. Last night, I didn't notice a ceiling fan in this hotel room. I sit up quickly and look to my left. There is no other bed. No Niall. Just a window with blinds and a nightstand with an alarm clock and paperwork on it.

Slowly, I turn my head to look in front of me. A closet door and a bathroom. This is NOT my hotel room. Where am I? I jump from the bed in alarm, my feet hitting the ground. My feet with socks, I must add. I never wear socks. Only if it's really cold. But, last night, I didn't put on socks. In addition, I'm wearing plaid pajamas. Plaid. Plaid is not my thing.

Plus, I know what I put on last night. I put on pajama pants and no t-shirt like I always do. I'm wearing a button-up t- shirt and matching pajama bottoms. I'm dreaming. I have to be! If it's a dream and I kick that nightstand in front of me, it won't hurt. I kick it and scream out in pain. Nope. Nope. Not dreaming! Very real! And painful!

I rub my hurt toe, leaning on the wall. I then limp aroung the bed and over to the door on the far right side of the room. I peak outside the door and see a hall with a door on each side. At the end of the hall is a top of a staircase. I open the first door on the right and see a made bed with plain white covers and an open window with white curtains. (If I wasn't freaking out right now, I would comment about how boring and plain this room is... I guess I kind of just did.) No one in there. Was I kidnapped? No. No one would get away with that. Security were outside the hotel. And someone would have noticed, right? Niall would've woken up, right? They wouldn't have let this happen to me... right?

I back out of the room and go to the room at the other side of the hall. I slowly turn the handle and walk inside. It's an office with a large desk. Papers nicely organized along it, a labtop, and a digital clock. A window with blinds and a fireplace against the far right wall. It seems cozy, but I am panicking inside too much to relax. I take a deep breath and walk straight over to the window. I pull up the blinds and peer outside. It looks like an average neighborhood like I lived in as a child. Nothing looks familiar, though.

I was once in London, but I don't think I am anymore. And I may be 21 years old, but I am as scared as a little girl right now. I let the blinds fall down and I let out a small sigh. I feel like crying. Running. Where am I? Where are the guys? I should call them! Where's my phone?

After running into the room I awoke in, I open the drawer of the nightstand. A bible, keys, a pen, medicine, but no phone. I slam the nightstand drawer closed and stand up straight. I search the bed and around the room, but there is no sign of it. I don't know what to do. Should I-

"Are you ready kids? Aye Iye, Captain! I can't hear you! Aye Iye, Captain! Ohhh!"

I freeze and can't breathe. Spongebob Squarepants? Someone's downstairs. My breathing quickens as I make my way out of the room. Maybe I was kidnapped. If so, what about the others? Especially Niall. He was in the room with me. Was he taken, too? Will this person hurt me? Only someone really evil would hurt Niall, though. Hurting Niall is like hurting a puppy.

I take steady steps down the stairs, taking a deep breath. I hear movement downstairs. It sounds like cereal being poured into a bowl. I suck in my breath as I make it to the bottom and let go of the stair rail I was gripping. I walk into the livingroom where Spongebob was playing. No one is there. Just a small T.V. in a large livingroom that is brightly lit from the sunshine. (This room is boring, too. Not quite as bad as that one room, though.) I jump in fear when I hear movement in the kitchen behind me. I run out of the livingroom and into the kitchen.

Empty. No one. I feel like I'm chasing them. Where did they go? Footsteps. I hear them now. Up the stairs. I gulp and tiptoe over to the staircase. Slowly, I look up them. Again, no one.

Should I just leave? The door to get out is in the livingroom. I could leave now and find my way back home. But, I want to find out who this is and where I am. I take one step at a time, taking deep, deep, breaths as I do. I want to just cry out and hide or run. Or something. I'm so scared. I feel like I did as a child. Scared because of a freaky movie and creeping around.

I make it to the top and see something that makes my breathing hitch. The door of the (boring) room is closed. I left that door open. Someone is in there. I tiptoe over to the door and reach for the handle. What if they are a murderer or a psycho? This is probably a bad idea. I should leave and then find out where I am from someone in town. But, almost as if my hand and arm have minds of their own, I turn the handle to reveal the last thing I expected.

I expected maybe some old guy with guns or a perv lady with no life who decided to kidnap me and rape me late. Instead, I open the door to see a child. A young boy, maybe six, sitting criss cross on his bed with a bowl of cereal in his lap.

"Good morning, Mr. Tomlinson," the boy says standing quickly from the bed with his cereal in hand.

How does he know my name? I stand in the doorway, not knowing what to say...

"Sorry. I know you always tell me not to bring food in my room. I will go to the kitchen," he continues, walking my way.

I always tell him? I don't even know him!

"Are you alright, sir? You look sick," he states stopping in front of me.

I look at his face closer... something about him seems so familiar.

"I don't know you," I say backing away in fear.

Fear, not in the child, but in what is happening. He gives me an odd look. A very familiar look I feel like I get often. From who, though?

"Yeah, you do! You adopted me when I was four!"

"No, I didn't! I'm a singer who lived in Doncaster, tried out for The X Factor, became a member of a boyband with two successful albums and has a 3D movie coming out this summer.Then, I was at the BRIT awards last night, won an award, performed a rock song, got into a fight with my best friend, went to sleep in a hotel, and woke up here! I was in London yesterday! Where am I now?!" I rambled, freaking out.

I run downstairs and into the livingroom.

"Mr. Tomlinson, you were here in your office like you are every night, last night," says the boy following after me.

I look at him with wide eyes.

"Excuse, me?" I say.

"Yeah! You are not a singer. You work at city hall."

I'm so confused...

"How come I fell asleep at a hotel in London and then woke up here the next day?"

"I don't know, sir. Are you okay?"

Then it hits me. That face. Those eyes and lips. Dimples...

"Is your name Harry?" I ask.

He nods.

"Is that all you remember?"

I nod at him in disbelief. No way...

"Like I told you, I was in London one day, here the next."

"That's weird."

I nod in agreement.

"What day is it?" I ask, thoughts rolling through my head.

"February 21st."

"What year?"

"2013."

That makes no sense. Yesterday was February 20th, 2013. So, yeah. Today would be February 21st... but how come Harry looks so young? Six. He is supposed to be 19... There is no way this child just looks like Harry. He has to be him. But just to check-

"What's your last name?"

"Tomlinson."

"No. Before I adopted you."

"Styles."

I think I convinced myself it's Harry now.

He also said I work at city hall and that I'm not a singer. I adopted him? It's almost like an-

"Alternate universe," I say aloud.

I've read fanfictions like that. (Yeah. Weird, right? Liam and I read them all of the time.) In an AU story, things for us are completely different. Like this one I read where One Direction weren't a band and never auditioned for The X Factor, and we had to go to a mental hospital. I guess that's what's happening to me right now. I'm in an alternate universe. It's all I can think of. And, in this case, I work a completely different job I never think I'd ever work, have an adoptive son who happens to be a six year old Harry, and I don't know what the hell is going on or who I am.

"Altrenate unicerse?" Harry says trying to pronounce it.

(If I wasn't freaking out, I'd also comment about how adorable that just was. The way he tilted his head and scrunched up his eyebrows and forehead, trying to get the words out.)

"Alternate Universe."

"What's that?"

"Like a completely different world. It's like I went to sleep in my world and woke up in yours (here) as... a different me," I explain the best I could to a six year old.

"Cool!" He exclaimed with that familiar, cheeky, grin across his face.

And those dimples. I suddenly feel dizzy. Too much to take in. There is no way this can be true...

"Mr. Tomlinson?"

That is all I hear before I fall to the ground and everything goes black.