There never seems to be a place that feels like home for Harry. He’s been searching for a while, but now as the rain falls again, even New York City doesn’t feel big enough for him to settle down in. Class is boring, but class is always boring when he’s learning about something that was shoved down his throat at every dinner party he attended since the age of 9. He’s surrounded by idiots and that helps none. Whenever the professor asks a question, hands shoot up and people scream over each other just for the possibility of being told they’re correct by a man who looks more like a displaced hobbit than a business professional. He sighs and slides down in his chair, thinking that at least it’s a change of scenery Harry glances up at the window and smiles. The rain in England was constant, even when it was sunny and 30 degrees out; misery can do that to a person.
England is lovely, really; he holds nothing against the country except that it happens to be the one place on the planet where his father is located. Harry swallows; hoping that the bitter taste that fills his mouth, whenever thoughts about his father appear, goes down with the spit. He dislikes Mr. Styles and he dislikes the UK for housing him. England could’ve been home, until his father sullied every good thing about the place by taking work with him wherever they went. There was always someone new to meet, another lunch to attend, another girl to pretend to pine for so a deal could be sealed. Everyone knew who he was. Everyone knew who his father was. He hated it. Anonymity is really something Harry wants in his life because he’s never had it before, but everywhere he walks on campus he hears a whisper about the English boy with the rich dad. It seems to be his only defining characteristic here at Columbia.
At least his father isn’t here. At least the monotony is broken because he’s not waking up to eggs benedict and his father talking about the NASDAQ. At least he’s hearing about macroeconomics from a difference voice than the same one he’s been listening to for the past 18 years.
At least.
He’s in New York because he is running away and searching for whatever is missing from his life. Now that he’s here, it’s apparent that he’s run far enough; now he just needs to find whatever he’s looking for. Running away is often frowned upon, but to be fair Harry got the idea from his older sister Gemma. She left for America a few years back to attend Harvard and get away from their father. They both will do anything they can to stay away from the organized hell their lives were back in England. Monogrammed blazers and political dinners account for more memories in Harry’s head than he wants them to. Everything is business and business is everything; the mantra his father seemingly recited at all times. They were employees, not children, and they were raised on money rather than love.
Gemma left because she was unhappy. Because no matter what happened, she would merely be the daughter who would end up in the company somehow. Harry understands that, but what makes it worse for him is that he has been deemed the next in line for the Styles empire. Most people tell him he should be thrilled, real people notice how drastically different he is from everyone else and how miserable he would be. Harry’s entire existence has been spent living in competition with his father. It’s a frequent family story at the dinner table that the first words out of his father’s mouth were “Well, he’s smaller than I was, but he still has room to grow, so I’m not that disappointed.” Harry seems to be constantly disappointing him and it’s no longer something that he frets about. He’s even turned it into a game.
What can I do today to piss my father off?
Which t-shirt should I wear so my father’s face turns blue?
What can I buy today that there’s a more expensive version of that will make him see red?
Money is the center of his world, but not because he wants it to be. Harry makes very few of his own decisions, even his transatlantic escape was organized by someone other than himself. Now he’s at Columbia; studying a major that he hates because his father is a giant twat. Mr. Styles expects Harry to follow in his footsteps and it makes him absolutely nauseous. He does it anyway though because at the end of the day Harry likes making people happy and even though his Dad will never be proud, his mum couldn’t be prouder.
