When Harry opens his eyes, it's not because he wants to, trust him, he would much rather be asleep right now.
Rather, it's because his stupid head won't let him sleep.
You see, he's been here before, eight years back, when he was still a child (because 16 is still a child really) and Harry still feels every single bit of nerve he felt last time.
It should be different.
By now, he should be able to strut the world without so much as a second glance, he is an adult after all, but for some reason one random repeat of events has his heart hammering away at his ribcage.
It's ridiculous.
He should be asleep, God knows he has a long day ahead of him, but here he is at 2:30 in the morning still wide awake, tossing and turning in his bed.
He huffs out a sigh, plugging his earphones in as not to wake his housemate, and scrolling to find his favourite soothing playlist, pressing play on the soft tones of Landslide filling his head, and he listens intently to the music weaving in and out, and the richness of the song.
If only he could fast forward these next few hours, and he'd be fine. He lays there for a few minutes more, listening to the song a couple more times before he drifts off, dreaming of what the next twenty four hours could possibly mean to him.
~~~
Harry is auditioning for himself, is what he has to remind himself constantly, in order to shift his backside out of bed.
He got five hours of sleep last night, and let me tell you, five hours of sleep is definitely not enough for a 24 year old.
"Harry, you have three seconds to get your arse out of bed, before I resort to extreme measures" Harry's roommate (and coincidentally his best mate) shouts through the door
"Three... Two..."
"I'm up, I'm up, okay!?" Harry yells back, in no way interested in finding out what 'extreme measures' even means.
He stumbles out of bed, throwing open his door and heading straight into the bathroom for a shower. He has two hours- to the dot- to shower, dry his hair, debate on what he's wearing, eat breakfast, style his hair, change his outfit again, re-do his hair, and then leave at exactly 10:00am.
That should be easy enough, right? (Wrong and he knows it). So that's exactly what he spends the next two hours doing, with the addition of Niall complaining about twenty thousand times about the fact that they've run out of bacon again, and then at 10:05 exactly, they've both made it into his car safely.
Harry's shaking with nerves, and Niall's still hungry, but they're in the car none the less, and on their way to the O2 arena.
"Pass me the aux, will you? It's fuckin depressing in here" Niall drawls, you can always count on Niall to be supportive when you need it, Harry thinks while rolling his eyes.
"Jeez, sorry I'm not exactly the life of the party" He retorts sarcastically
"Well, you are being fuckin quiet, it's like someone stole ya voice mate" Niall replies, and Harry gasps at the injustice
"Niall! Don't go saying that, I'm relying on that voice to get me through my audition!"
"Ya know I'm just messin with you H, don't get all tetchy with me"
"I now Nialler, m'just scared is all, just want to prove that I can do it" Harry says, trailing off in thought.
Harry was going to do it when he was 16, like he'd planned back when he had buckets full of confidence.
YOU ARE READING
Sign Of The Times
FanfictionWhen Harry auditions for the X-factor, he doesn't do it because he thinks he has the X-factor (or whatever that even is). Its because he wants to prove to everyone that he can, and more importantly, prove to himself that he can. After being bullied...
