New York [harry styles au]

02

02.
I woke up feeling extremely worse for wear. My head felt disconnected from my shoulders with a dull ache that wouldn't leave even when I closed my eyes. Young Americans by David Bowie was playing on the stereo in the living area as I sat up from the sofa, becoming clear that somebody obviously hadn't taken the record out yet. I looked around the apartment to find it desolate before peering out at the summer midday sky beyond the windows. Suddenly, a noise from the kitchen startled me as my head snapped to its direction. I saw the boy who lived here, who I could only assume was Harry, walk out with a black trash bag.

"Oh, shit. I didn't mean to wake you." His voice flooded the expansive room with sincerity.

"Oh no, you didn't wake me. Don't worry." I reply and he nods. "Is this your apartment? I assume you are Harry."

"Yeah, I am. This is my apartment. Everybody usually comes here to crash, or drink until they have no other excuse than to crash." He chuckles before going back to picking up the paper cups. "You're not from around here?"

"No, Idaho."

"Oh." He looked away again.

"You're not from around here either?"

"No, England. Got a plane ticket to New York with no return back in '71." He chuckled to himself again.

I smile at his carelessness before glancing down to the mahogany coffee table before me. I immediately notice a small packet with a few even smaller pink tablets beside it that had fallen from it, I smile again at the 'E' engraved on them as it matched the name of Harry's apartment. Beside it was an abundance of empty beer bottles.

"It's funny, there's usually many more people here in the morning but today, it's just you and me." Harry speaks up again. "Angelina spoke to me, by the way. I'm away for a few days but we agreed that you can stay with her at Beatrix's flat in the meantime."

"I really don't want to be a bother."

"You aren't, don't mention it." He moves into the living area to get the beer bottles, "You're an all right chick, not like some of the other girls who turn up just for the alcohol and don't stay for the experience." He grabbed the bag of tablets and waved it in front of my face, his smile becoming a smirk.

"How many did I take?" I roll my eyes in sarcastic giddiness.

"Only two, but two was definitely enough." He laughed before pushing the fallen ecstasy tablets back into the packet and stuffing it into his jeans pocket.

"That explains why I feel like crap today." I say, "Do you just distribute drugs then? Is that why people come here?" I had noticed him handing drugs out to numerous people the night before, eventually understanding the real reasoning behind so many people turning up to his home. But I couldn't remember anything else. I guess that's why his drugs were approved by so many, they helped people to forget about life for a while and only focus on the positives, even if they were fantasy.

"Mostly, yeah, it's all part of the hippie movement and shit, a lot of people want drugs nowadays. I needed a job and it's a job that I enjoy pursuing so I thought, why not." He explains, throwing the black bag of trash into the corner of the room.

"Yeah. I get it. I need a job myself."

"You could always join in, I could get you a job with my boss." He offers, falling beside me on the sofa, not before turning the small square television on in the corner of the room by the button under the screen. The news began playing on the small screen.

"No thanks, I don't want a job that ties me down to one place. I'm always travelling from one place to the other."

"Don't you ever feel the urge to stay in one place?"

"Yeah I do, but the trouble of finding a job and money problems usually cause me to move again. It's like I'm always on the run." I say and he nods.

"Well, I hope you find stability soon." He sends a small smile my way, of which I return.

A few July days later, Angelina and I were out walking the New York streets during a very sunny afternoon. Other pedestrians were wearing shorts, dresses and short sleeved shirts. These outfits completely differed to Angelina's choice of outfit that day, so much so that it made me laugh and still makes me chuckle to this day. She sported lace stockings, a short skirt and knee high leather boots as well as a khaki green bomber jacket thrown over a black vest. She didn't even seem warm which baffled me, I was wearing a thin shirt and still felt like I was overheating. But she didn't care, and I admired that about her. She was a woman in control, even in control of her own body temperature.

It wasn't long before she directed me towards a park after I had spent too long admiring store windows, one of which being so fancy that they had a revolving door that continuously spun with customers rushing back and forth. Revolving doors weren't often seen in my hometown area of Idaho. I enjoyed the symbolise of them. They were constantly turning, like a ferris wheel; a part of somebody's journey that took the effort of opening a door away. She scanned the park before gripping my arm and softly pulling me towards a set of swings.

She perched upon one of them before reaching into her pocket and taking out a cigarette each for her and I, lighting them both. I sat on the swing beside hers, swaying slightly with the breeze.

"I'm happy you've settled in, Winona. Who knows, you may want to stay here in New York after a few more nights." She said as she handed the cigarette my way.

"I won't be staying any longer if I don't pay Beatrix any rent." I state with a chuckle and she rolls her eyes.

"I haven't paid it since forever, I don't think she minds." She replied, and I began to wonder what she did to truly get by financially in life. Beatrix obviously loved her to allow her to accommodate her home at no extra charge.

"I want to try and make a good first impression. Especially with being a stranger, you lot hardly know me." I mention and she shakes her head.

"You're part of the family now, Woodford." Angelina lightly bumps my arm with her fist and I smile.

I peer up to the park again to admire the scenic view. It isn't long before I see a man dressed in a somewhat professional uniform, from as much as I could tell, who was making his way towards us in brisk strides.

"Time to hit the road." Angelina stated before wasting no time standing and hurrying away, I wasted no time in following after her; enjoying the double meaning of such a phrase in my life.