Unity | Harry Styles AU

I: it all starts here

Alaska's Point of View

  It's been a few months into my freshman year at the Institute of Fine Arts. My parents have been in Europe since August for career-related issues and fortunately my credit card is linked up with theirs, so that's how I've been able to pay for school and rent– the other necessities I have covered with the money from my part time job at the local coffee shop.

  I've already adapted to my surroundings here, made a couple friends on campus and have even gone out to a few formal occasions with my classmates. I haven't been fully able to enjoy myself however because there's a constant voice in my head reminding me of when I never transferred to Cardozo in October. It was last month but it feels like yesterday. The voice is calling me a liar, and a fraud. I try not to give in and believe it, but it's hard not to do when the voice is constantly there.

  But it can't be such a crime to be going to school right? Law, Fine arts, Medicine, they are all different fields of work but at the end of the day you're learning something nonetheless. At least I'm at a school.

  I look over to my alarm clock and realize that i've been so stressed over this situation that I completely forgot I need to be in class in half an hour. The drive isn't necessarily long from my apartment to school, but I still need to do my hair and makeup...

  Well, I guess not today. I put on whatever clothing that was left on my bed yesterday, put my hair up, washed my face and grabbed a granola bar from my kitchen. Before leaving, I threw on a pair of sunglasses to mask my bare face and kept repeating to myself:

There's nothing wrong with going to school. There's nothing wrong with going to school.

To help ease my mind for the day. There isn't anything wrong with going to school, but with parents like mine, if it isn't the school they've approved of, everything is wrong with going to school. They won't be home for another few months, but my parents' wrath has gotten me so paranoid since first semester started, it feels as if it wouldn't even make a difference if they flew overseas and yelled at my face right now, because i've been doing it to myself ever since they left.

  I put my guilt aside as I walked across the foyer, greeting the friendly lady at the desk like I do everyday, and as I got into my car, I made sure to blast my music as loud as my eardrums could bare to drown out my thoughts to prepare me for my day at school.

---

I always thought that university would be extremely intimidating and scary, but once I adapted to my surroundings, I realized that was not the case. The main hall almost gives me a sense of ease and a sense of belonging, which is something I never had when I was younger.

My first classes were okay, I didn't mind art history and criticism and so on, but what really motivated me was the hands-on visual arts class where you could apply your knowledge to work and create art yourself. Visual art was my last class of the day, and Mr. Styles was my teacher. I was impressed with myself that I even knew his name because I don't recall any of my other professors' names at all.

Mr. Styles was the only teacher that I feel I would actually like. Not that my other teachers were complete trash, there was just nothing interesting about them. Mr. Styles was something completely different. He captivated his students in more ways than one. He wasn't one dimensional like the other professors, and he was quite the talent himself. Alongside all of that, I just really enjoyed his presence, and I looked forward to his classes specifically. It's embarrassing for me to admit because I doubt he even knows my name. He teaches and has taught so many other talented students. I was probably nothing special to him from his eyes as he is from mine. I am simply another number on his paper. That's all.