"Why do you call me narcisse? I'm not that narcissistic, am I?"
"No, but the flower Narcisse started creating itself on top of Narcissus' cold and lifeless body."
"And?"
"And it kept on branching out. The fact that it was on a dead and dried...
"Mesdames et messieurs, je voudrais attire votre attention sur les moniteurs de télévision. Nous allons montrer notre démonstration de la sécurité et je voudrais quelques minutes de votre attention completé. Ladies and gentlemen, I'd like to direct your attention to the television monitors. We will be showing our safety demonstration and would like the next few minute of your complete attention." Said the air hostess with a monotonic tone and a very plastic smile into the small microphone while everyone was busy with their bags, their phones or their kids.
Harry put his seat belt on and started listening to the instructions because he's that type of person. After the air hostess finished going over all the points, he put on his headphones and pressed on the Voyageant playlist.
He started drumming his fingers against his tight black jeans out of habit to ease his nervousness a bit. Yes, Harry has been to many countries like Spain, Germany and more, but this was different. Last time he was in the UK was when he was four and his parents were still together. That was also the last time he's seen his father.
You see, Harry's been living in Paris his whole life with his mum after his parents' divorce, so when he had no inspiration for his new book his mum suggested that he go to London and live there with his dad in hopes of finding an idea because as his mother says "In every rusty corner of that old city there's a bunch of stories, ready to be written and told." You can see where he got the writing skills from
So Harry bought tickets to the first plane going back to London because he always does what his mum says. Well, at least that's what he tells himself is the reason and not any other.
He didn't think about what he was doing so much until he was on the plane, and now that his brain wasn't busy with packing or saying goodbyes to people, he realised that he didn't even tell his dad that he was going back to London. What if James didn't want him in the house? What if he was out of town? What if he would be disappointed in Harry's long hair and quirky style? The more he thought about it the more he regretted his decision. He doesn't even know his house address.
Before he could drive himself insane with 'what if's, Harry pulled out his journal and started writing sentences with alliteration just to keep his mind busy. This time music is not enough to occupy his thoughts.
The time went by faster than Harry desired and soon he found himself exiting the airport with no plan in mind. He thought about going to a hotel and not bother to tell his dad that he was in town, but he remembered that he wanted to stop running away from his problems and fix things in his life and that included facing his dad. Just thinking about that made Harry chuckle at the irony. He wanted to stop running away from his problems by running away to London.
After asking his mum for the address, Harry gave the address to one of the taxi drivers in front of the airport and soon he was on his way to reunite with his dad. Maybe his dad is not that bad, he told himself. After all, he's talked to the guy like three times in his life, so he knew nothing about him and he wasn't the type to judge people.
Looking through the window, he saw the dank streets filled with various types of people quickly moving about to get work done and the small stores with strange names. The sky was filled with big, angry clouds threatening to spill their guts at any moment, but it matched with the dusty and cracked corners that were homes to some people. He thought that London was kind of similar to Paris because of the humid weather and the old, raggedy buildings and the similarity gave him an oddly comforting feeling.
"Sir, we've reached your house." said the driver and suddenly Harry felt more nervous than ever. What if James wasn't at home? He'd surely freeze outside of the house.
With a long sigh and slightly shaky hands he took out his wallet, "Merci." He said quickly and opened the door to be welcomed with a rush of wind. He looked around the place and was overwhelmed with how vast and sumptuous the house was. It wasn't a house, no, it was a villa.
The villa had a gothic style with its white walls, pointy roofs, large Victorian windows and large wooden doors. To the left of the house, there was a garden that was decorated with at least ten types of flowers and all around the house was cute, little pine trees.
Harry took a deep breath one more time and went up the three stairs onto the porch and in front of the entrance door. He slowly reached for the bell and gently pressed it only to be surprised by the sound of piano playing instead of the classic bell sound. At this point he felt really underdressed with his tight black jeans that seemed to be painted on his legs and his see-through blouse that had some holes in it.
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The door opened and instead of seeing a forty-something years old man, he was met with a lad his own age with piercing blue eyes and ghost-white skin. He also had super bleached hair which didn't help his skin tone at all.
"Can I help you, mate?" the guy asked with a not-so-English accent. Maybe this was the wrong address.
"Um, is this Corden's house?" Harry asked slowly. His English is perfect, but he always feels self-conscious about his accent. He tries to not sound French because most people think he's pretending.
"Yup, am I supposed to know you?" the guy said a little too excitedly.
"Well, I'm Harry Styles, James' son."
"Then why aren't you Corden?" the guy asked and Harry was about to say that his mum married another guy when the guy started laughing, "Just kidding, I know you. Come on in. I'm Niall by the way."
"Do you live here Niall?" Harry asked as he entered the house, and again he was struck with fancy decorations and a large double staircase in the middle of the enormous hall.
"Yeah, I'm James' son too actually." Niall rubbed the back of his neck while looking around the room.
"Oh, I didn't know I had a brother." Harry furrowed his brows. Niall seemed older than him.
"Well, technically I'm not your brother. When my mum died James raised me so we kinda share a father." He smiled at Harry. Now that made more sense.
"Niall, who was at the door?" a man shouted from upstairs. Harry looked up and saw James standing at the top of the stairs with sweatpants and a t-shirt just like Niall, they looked really underdressed for the house and they seemed like they didn't care in the slightest. He's seen James in old pictures but now looking at Niall, he resembles James more than Harry does with the blue eyes and the thin lips and the very white skin.
"Harry?" James said once he saw Harry standing behind Niall, more like hiding behind Niall.
