Somehow [Larry Stylinson AU]

Chapter Three

*Harry POV*

The cameras flashed as I posed in front of a white background in the studio where I take most of my pictures.

"You look great, Harry! Only a couple more!" the photographer yelled.

I continued to pose and smile, and then the photographer waved his hand, signalling that I was done. I stepped away from the white background, and walked over to a computer to look at the photos.

The photographer and a Vogue worker looked over them, and I stood on my tip-toes to see the shots.

They looked good, but I looked like I had some pudge around my stomach. I frowned and looked down at my stomach and pinched it, and I saw that there was some flab. I sighed and waved goodbye to the photographers and stylists, then I walked out the door to go to my flat.

As a Vogue model, one would think that I make a lot of money. I do make a lot of money, but my mother says I'm "too young to make that much," so she has most of the money I make go to her bank account instead of mine. I get a certain portion each month to sustain myself, but I still barely scrape by. She gives me enough money so that I can buy clothes, pay bills, and buy food. When she's feeling generous, she gives me "pleasure money," so I can buy things like a phone, or a laptop, or movie tickets. But that hardly ever happens.

I sigh as I approach my apartment building. It's slowly crumbling brick by brick, and vines grow up the walls. I enter the building, and rather than risking getting stuck in the elevator-which happened to me when I first moved in- I trudge up seven flights of stairs to my apartment.

The only good thing about the place is the view. On the fire escape, I can look out and see all of London. At night, it's a beautiful sight. I sit out there a lot, it's very soothing.

I fumble for my keys at the front door, before realising that I left them at the studio. I groan and lean against the door, then pull out my phone and call the front desk to ask for assistance.

The man from the front desk arrives a few minutes later, and hands me a new set of keys.

"Here you go Mister Styles. Please take care of those keys, because I can only give you so many," he said.

I nodded and took the keys gratefully. "I won't lose them again, sir. I'll get spares made this time." I smiled at him, but he frowned and turned to leave. I used the key to open to door, and closed to righty behind me. I looked at my shoebox of an apartment and sighed.

'It's just so tiny,' I thought to myself. Maybe I could ask my mother if I could move into a nicer and larger apartment, although I doubted that she would say yes.

Then I set down my bag and keys and walked out onto the fire escape. The sun was setting, so some of the lights from the city were on. It was so beautiful, and I wished that I had someone beside me to share this moment with.

I knew when I was very young that I wasn't normal. My mother didn't really care, but she wasn't supportive of me. My sister, Gemma, was my true supporter. She told me to always be true to myself, and to always be kind to everyone I met. She understood me, and I always felt extremely connected to her. So then I picked up my phone and called her, hoping she would answer, since I hadn't talked to her that day.

"Harry! How are you?" she answered.

"Hi Gem. And I'm well, how are you?" I responded.

"Feel a little ill, but overall I'm good."

"That's good," I said distractedly.

Gemma was quiet for a moment before she spoke again. "Harry, are you sure you're alright? You sound....off."

"It's nothing, I'm alright," I assured her.

"Are you sure? No body issues or anything?" she questioned.

My mind flew back to when I was sixteen and struggling with my body. I hadn't had any issues since then, but after seeing some of the shots from today.....

"No, Gemma. I'm okay, really."

"Okay. Well, I've got to go help some friends study for exams, but keep in touch, okay?" she said.

I nodded even though she couldn't see me. "Okay, I'll talk to you soon. I love you, Gem."

"I love you too, Harry. Bye!"

I sighed. Should I have told Gemma about the thoughts I had earlier at the studio? I don't want to concern her with my petty problems. And the thoughts wouldn't be as bad as they were when I was sixteen....I hope.