A Shot of Reality [Harry Styles]

XVIII. Normalcy

A/N: Happy update day! Nothing much to say, except to check out the fabolous banner on the side made by this chapter's dedicatee! If anyone would like to make a promotional banner for ASOR, I'd be very happy to put it in the next chapter and dedicate it to them :)

That's all, folks! XX

February 1st, 2005

It was 6:29 p.m. in Holmes Chapel, England, and at 6:32 it would officially be Harry Styles’ eleventh birthday.

To say Harry was simply just “happy” to turn eleven years old would be a shame to his excitement. The sugary goodness of his Power Ranger themed yellow cake hadn’t even been served yet, and still he was ultimately ecstatic. The term "bouncing off the walls” could be accurately defined to him at of this moment. He sat in front of a confetti filled table, examining and appreciating every single person that stood in front of it.

There was his mother, who couldn’t help but hold back a few escaping tears. There was her boyfriend, Robin, who had his arm wound around his mother while grinning at Harry, to which Harry returned back. He needn’t forget Gemma, his sister and admittedly, his role model who smirked at her little brother in pride.

It was now 6:30.

One single person, one he admired and idolized more than anything was his best friend, who sat next to Harry with a shiny party hat resting atop her waterfall of curls. Sydney’s marine eyes were locked and set on the cake being thrusted onto the table by his grandmother, and to that he simply gazed at the side of her face in bemusement.

Many reassurances that “the candles had been lit, and he could blow them out” were spoken, while many camera bulbs blinked with whiteness at the absence of his breath puffing out the flames. But he couldn’t blow them out just yet; he had no light bulbs for ideas to what he should wish for.

A Ferrari? A house made of gold? Maybe an unlimited supply of glazed donuts from the bakery?

It was now 6:31.

A yelp sounded from the kitchen, which directed all attention from her and towards the outlet of the shriek. The source, as it coincidentally happened to be, was Sydney’s parents. He could tell they were miserably attempting to drown out their anguish with bitter whispers, which he would’ve given them credit for. But the simple fact that their mouths were spewing nasty and uncensored insults to each other deterred from his admiration, and focused his attention back at Sydney.

He wondered if he should tell her, and assure her that everything would be fine. Her parents would work things out, as they always did after their weekly tantrums, and give her an extra slice of cake with extra frosting in sympathy. But she was so blissful, so happy; and so focused on the diminished future of the flames that his second thought shrouded in his current awareness as he blew every amount of air he held within his lungs and propelled it towards the candles. His wish, which he conjured at practically the last second, was kept within even when Sydney smashed her cheek against his as she hugged him tightly while her parent’s kitchen side rants blossomed into his eardrums.

It was now 6:32, Harry’s birthday, and he thought and remembered his eleventh birthday wish with no regrets whatsoever present in his mind.

“Dear God; please have Sydney stay as happy and beautiful as she is now, and don’t let anyone ruin that.”

 

With every bench press Harry accomplished, a feeling of hot blood pulsed throughout his veins.