Love Competition (The X Factor Larry Stylinson)

A Hopeful Beginning

"You're going to do amazing sweetie, I know it. I'll be in there ASAP, I promise. I just need to find a parking spot; this place is crowded..."

Harry waited for his Mom to stop the car before giving her a big hug. "Thanks, Mom. I'll see you just before I go out on stage. Don't worry."

"I know..." she said before pulling him into yet another hug. "I just can't believe my boy is actually going to be auditioning. I can't believe it!"

"Yes, I know. Oh, please don't start crying. We're holding up traffic. I gotta go."

She took a quick look into her rearview mirror and sighed. "Okay, okay, go on. Don't forget your warmups!"

"I won't!" Harry called as he opened the door and grabbed his bag.

"You won't forget them or you won't do them?"

"I love you! Bye!" He called as he shut the door and gave her a wave. He waited for her to wave back, heard a car honking behind them, and then started walking towards the huge line up for the most popular singing competition in the UK, and maybe even the world - The X Factor.

Harry Edward Styles was a normal teenage boy. He was 16, and had just made the age cut for the show. He used to be in a band with his mates back at home, White Eskimo. He had a part time job at a bakery, and he did well in school. On the weekends he liked to hang out with his friends and his sister, Gemma. He had dated two people before, which he liked to think was a normal number for someone of his age. He was a cat person and his favourite colour was baby blue.

He made his way to the front desk, signed a few papers, and then was pushed into the huge lineup of people. If there was one thing he had in common with all of these people, it was that he was in it to win it.

He had picked out his outfit the night before - that's how excited he was. A green polo shirt, a grey cardigan, a scarf. Some "Nice Pants", as his Dad would way. Funky socks for good luck, although you wouldn't be able to see them, since, y'know, shoes. He had opted for Normal Shoes, not Nice ones. He looked professional, but not too professional. Perfect.

He messed around with the sleeves of his cardigan as he slowly moved forward in the cluster of people. There was lot of commotion going on - water being handed around, people talking to other people, a lot of noise coming from behind him. Who was screaming? He couldn't decide if it would be considered rude to pull out his earbuds. All he wanted to do right now is listen to Coldplay. Is that too much to ask? He decided against it, and braved the line for another 45 minutes or so.

From then he was brought inside into a little room with fifteen, maybe twenty other contestants. A lady with a clipboard gave them a rundown of what to expect, and Harry tried his hardest to pay attention, even though he already knew everything - he'd been watching this show for as along as he could remember. After five minutes, he was brought into a room filled with fake plants, mirrors, couches, and a single fridge. This was it - after this room, he was on stage. 

Everyone seemed to know what they were doing - chugging bottles of lemon flavoured water, humming, fixing their hair. Harry took a glance in the mirror and then sat down on one of the leather couches alone. He was fine. All he had to do know was wait. 

He quietly pulled out his phone and was about to message his Mom when someone walked into the room. 

"Oi, mate!" He laughed rather loudly before walking over to an equally-excited guy near a cactus.

Harry was thrown off by the sudden loudness in the room - the boy's arrival had set off a bomb. After hearing one person speak with an outdoor voice, it seemed to have prompted them all to do the same.