Out of Style (Narry)

Chapter 2

Harry's eyes continued to fixate at the textured concrete of the wall next to his bed. The small rough bumps were painted over with a glossy white paint, chipped in some places and scratched. Back at his much larger apartment complex in New York City, the walls were a smooth spotless white. He could run his fingers along the wall and glide them all the way down. Here, his fingertips were stabbed by the unevenness.

He glanced up to the window, framed by a dark stained wood, and noticed the sun was beginning to set. The window was small so there wasn't much light coming through, whereas the apartment had windows that took over an entire wall, giving him an extraordinary view of the city skyline that the sun would descend behind.

With a sigh, Harry lifted his body up from the bed that creaked with every move he made. He couldn't even stretch his legs out all the way because they hung off the end of it. His back was sore from the terrible support he found the bed had. His mattress back in New York was made from memory foam and fit to Harry's body perfectly each time was on it.

Even the simpler of things were a better fit for Harry in a busy city rather than a quaint and quiet countryside town.

Harry brought his pinky finger to his mouth and ran it along his bottom lip. He had no clue what to do with himself now. He had tried to nap like his mum was doing but his mind was as wild and lively as the city streets. He could never get bored in New York because he was either busy or he tag along with his mum to places and events where she needed to be in attendance. All that was stripped away from him in Ireland.

He wondered how kids his age were able to entertain themselves around here. There were no clubs, high end shopping malls, restaurants, or much of anything really to go visit. There were cobblestone streets and small houses built together.

His mind went back to his new neighbor, Niall, who seemed pleasantly happy to be living in this small part of Ireland. Niall's invitation to kick a ball around wasn't something Harry was too excited about. If that was all he had to offer, then Harry didn't think he was going to last long here. A bitter chuckle escaped from his throat, and Harry didn't realize he made a sound until he heard it.

There was a faint knock on the door then, followed by his mum opening the door. "You hungry? Thought we could go ask the neighbors where we could find a place to sit down and have some dinner." She offered him a smile.

Harry shrugged his shoulders. "I guess so, but I doubt we'll be able to find much." He meant to add that food here could compare to the richness of New York dining, but he didn't want his mood to bother his mum, who wanted to flourish in this new place.

"Well, we won't know until we get out there." She insisted as she crossed her arms over her chest, leaning against the wall. Her eyes looked down to him.

He avoided her gaze, looking down at the ripped knees of his jeans to start plucking at the strings that dug deep into his skin when his knees were bent.

"Come on. Get up. We're going out." She said, motioning with her arms to Harry to stand up.

Before he complied Harry ran his hand through his hair, his curls running through the space between his fingers and straightening out temporarily before returning back to their natural form when he stopped. He look down at his feet, partly because he was still cautious about the lower ceilings.

"That's my boy." She smiled at him. "I'll meet you in the front room." Anne turned back around and left Harry's room.

Harry looked down at his clothes, wondering if he should change into something different. If Niall's noticed the style of his clothes, then others could just as easily. It's what Harry was comfortable in, what he thought he looked good in, and what he's grown up accustomed to. Now, he didn't feel like his fashion fit into this new part of his life. He'd stick out more than he already did with his height.