Art | Harry Styles

5

He's running. 

He's also late.

Harry takes two steps at a time, at some points even three,  his lanky legs carrying him quickly up the several flights. His bag is clutched closely to his side, and he's already searching for his keys before he's even reached the top. He drops them, cursing intensively before picking them up and thundering towards the door of his apartment. His key misses the lock between five and six times, cursing between each and every one, as he finally jams the key into the lock, turning it and forcing his door open.

He slams it shut, bolting up the open staircase to his bed, quickly piling onto it and dropping his bag at his feet. He opens his laptop and clicks on the Skype icon, just as a video call begins to ring through. He accepts immediately, his sister's face filling his screen with a wide grin upon it.

"Happy Birthday, little girl!" he exclaims with a grin, a soft pang in his chest as he hears his mum's voice in the background, and then she shuffles into view.

"Thanks, Haz," Gemma smiles without teeth as his mother, Anne, settles into a seat beside her.

"Oh, Harry, darling!" his mum exclaims, "how are you? I feel like I haven't spoken to you in-"

"A couple of days, Mum," he smiles softly, "how are you?"

"I'm good, Mum, how are you?"

"Wonderful - we're headed out to King's soon, for Gem," she smiles warmly, squeezing Gemma's shoulders as she speaks. A small smile is on Harry's lips. King's. King's is their favourite pub, ever since Harry was little, even before Gemma was born. Every year, Harry, Gemma, his mum, and his dad, would go to King's for dinner for each of their birthdays, and now Gemma and Anne would be going without him.

"Well, have a drink for me, yeah?" Harry says, and his mum promises to.

"So how was your first day?"

"Today was my third, but - let's not talk about me," Harry bites his lip, his smile failing to leave his face. He's certain if he starts talking about his new life then he'll start crying like a baby about how he misses his family. "How does it feel to be sixteen, Gem?"

"Adult-like," she sticks her tongue out, and Harry rolls his eyes.

"You'll always be twelve to me, ugly," his grin is still soft, as his mum begins to scold him for his insult towards his sister. But he doesn't mind. 

"She's not twelve anymore, Haz," Anne tells him, leaning in a little closer to the camera, the delay of the video jumping slightly as she leans over, whispering as if creating distance between her and Gemma, "there was a boy at the house this morning."

"What?" Harry's eyes widen, "you're joking."

"Mum!" Gemma huffed, "stop lying." Even through the poor video quality, he could see Gemma's cheeks flush red.

"Which boy?" Harry narrows his eyes now, and as Anne opens her mouth to speak, Gemma interrupts.

"There's no boy! Mum, you promised you wouldn't tell Harry, and-"

"You just admitted that there's a boy," Harry blinks, his urge to protect his little sister taking over in that moment, "who?"

"Danny Stevens," she mumbles, and Harry's jaw drops.

"You're chatting shit."

"Harry, don't curse!" Anne scolds.

"N-no, he-"

Danny Stevens is Harry's age. And in Harry's mind, he's a total knob. He had bullied Harry relentlessly from when they were only thirteen, for supposedly 'looking gay', and for not getting with every girl he saw. But, of course, his mother and sister don't know that.

"Gem, it's fine," Harry reassures her, leaving out the details and instead forcing a smile onto his face. "I'll deal with him when I'm back at Christmas, yeah?"

"Shut up," Gemma stifles a grin, and Harry changes the subject.

"Has my present for you arrived? It should at least be in the post," Harry says, and Gemma shakes her head.

"Nothing yet - or have you just forgotten to send something?"

 Small talk quickly turns into a deep conversation between the three of them, then to Harry giving them a tour of his new apartment, laughter and smiles all around as an hour passes. And then, it's time to say goodbye.

"I want you to call me tomorrow," his mum demands, and Harry nods and promises he will. And with that, they're all declaring 'I love you's, and then the call has ended.

And then the room is quiet. The apartment is eerily silent, and Harry is alone once more. A pit of pure emptiness opens in his stomach, and the hole is in his heart once more.

He's never been away from his family before. He knew it would be hard to distance himself so significantly, so quickly, but he couldn't have imagined the kind of ache he is already feeling.

His family was all he'd had growing up. Still, it's all he has. Through everything, the Styles family has stuck together - no matter what has hit them, no matter what bumps were in the road, they were a close-knit family, and now Harry's away from them.

Harry brings his lip between his teeth, standing up and heading over to his bag. He reaches into it, pulling out his flash-drive. He brings it back to his laptop and pushes into the side port, loading the files up. 

His screen is filled with candid photos of his mother and sister, that he'd taken in the weeks before he'd left. The two of them were smiling an almost identical smile, their eyes squinted with crinkles at the sides of them. They were laughing at a horrible joke Harry had told in order to get the picture, before insisting it wasn't funny and that he's an idiot. But he doesn't mind. He admires facial expressions, and how they change - he's always been a close observer of them. In anybody, he loves to observe - the way a frown forms and a smile grows; to him, it's a fascination. 

Vibrant, incredible fascinations, of a shy, timid boy who possesses sickeningly unadulterated optimism in a cruel world.

-

this isn't good at all but i wanted to update, and i needed a little bit of a filler. 

i hope this wasn't too boring/too short, lmfao. a better chapter is coming soon, hopefully