Know: A Harry Styles Fan Fiction
Welcome To Cowlingham
"I really wanna go outside" - Cults
• • • • •
Harry seriously does not know where we're going. But he's right, it's exhilarating taking the subway and getting off at a random station we've never been to before.
"Where are we?" I say as we ascend from underground.
The scenery is drastically different from what I'm used to in London.
"I didn't even know the tube reaches this far," Harry comments, scanning our surroundings.
Instead of skyscrapers and apartment buildings on crammed streets, there are vast, open fields and wide roads. The houses are all huge and identical and sit hundreds of feet apart. On top of everything is a thick layer of snow, as flawlessly white as marshmallows. It vaguely reminds me of my hometown.
"So where does our adventure begin?" I wonder aloud.
"Maybe this will have the answer," he says, pointing at a worn down sign that maps out the landmarks in town.
"Welcome to Cowlingham, Population: 874," I read to myself. Now I know where to go whenever I miss home.
Harry squints at the tiny, faded words on the map. "I can't tell what any of this reads."
"Then let's just pick a direction and go."
Harry's face lights up in equal parts shock and delight, similar to the expression he wore when I first told him I didn't know what One Direction was.
"Really?" he asks.
"Yeah, why not?" I say, although I can think of many reasons why not, like we could get lost and end up stranded and frozen all night in an unfamiliar town. But somehow it didn't bother me, as long as Harry's beside me.
His eyes twinkle at me as he smiles. "That's sounds ace, Jules."
At first we decide to head to the right but a sweet aroma dictates that we turn left. We follow our noses until finally, a field of tents materializes before us. Between them are clusters of overly-ornamented trees that range from tall to short, thick to thin. Looking up and out, there's a sea of velvety red hats with white, poofy balls dangling from the tip.
It doesn't take long to realize that Harry and I have stepped into the town's holiday fair. The sky is overcast and the wind is bitterly cold but that doesn't affect the locals' moods in the slightest. People are singing carols while others dance and play folky instruments at the same time. Everybody smiles and hugs and laughs like they've been friends since childhood, which is likely in a town this small.
The aroma grows stronger and invites us deeper into the fair. Its source, I discover, is a food vendor with a painted wooden sign, advertising Normandy Baked Apples."I can't believe they have these!" Harry exclaims as we join the long line. "I haven't had baked apples since I was a kid. My mum used to make them for me and all my relatives when they came over for Christmas."
I've never seen Harry so relaxed in public before. He hasn't once fiddled with his beanie or anxiously glanced around, and I suddenly realize why. Not a single person looks twice at him. They have no idea who he is.
I despise cinnamon but it's delicious sprinkled on this warm, crispy apple. We snack on them as we loiter further into the festivities. We walk past rows of game booths, bubbling with kids eagerly throwing darts at tiny balloons or tossing rings at glass bottles.
A man drags a rattling cart with various snacks, toys and accessories hanging off the side, pinching a horn that makes a squeaky eek-onk, eek-onk as he approaches us.
"Are you hungry, love?" the man asks me. I hold up my freshly nibbled apple as a polite response.
"Alright then, but your head must be cold," he says. "How about a lovely hat?"
Harry turns to me, grinning. "Yeah, Jules, how about a lovely hat?"
There's a plethora of them, all wild and whacky and enthusiastically holiday-themed. It seems everyone else has already grabbed the generic, plain Santa caps, so I pull an oversize, sequined green hat with a glittery gold band and pointy, foam elf ears attached on either side.
"Oh, excellent choice," Harry says, not bothering to hide his amused smile, which slightly falters when I yank the beanie from his head and replace it with the elf hat.
"Yeah, I'd agree," I say, shooting him a smirk. "And it matches your eyes."
Harry finds a reindeer-antler headband decorated with strands of multicolored lights and slides it into my hair. He adjusts it a few times before taking a step back. "And this is perfect for you," he says.
"You haven't even seen the best part yet!" the man says with genuine excitement. He reaches over and pushes a button beneath the fuzzy brown fabric.
My eyes roll the very top of my vision and I can see the tips of the bright lights, alternating colors every second. And, by God, is that music?
"Rudolph the red nose reindeer," the antlers sing, "had a very shiny nose."
Harry explodes with laughter while I grope around for the button and quickly shut it off. He clutches his stomach as he pays the cart salesman.
"You're wasting your money," I say, removing the hideous antlers from my head.
His eyebrows slant with dissapointment. "Please wear it. Just for today?"
"Absolutely not."
"I will if you do."
Harry turns to me with a hopeful expression under that sparkling green, cone-shaped ridiculousness, between the fake ears that are ten shades too light. For further encouragement, he holds a thumbs up on either side of his face and flashes me two rows of shimmering white teeth.
I give him a light shove as an indication of giving in. "You make a good elf," I giggle.
"And you make a hot reindeer," he softly says, pulling me by the waist and cupping a hand around my face.
"That's a little weird," I whisper against his lips before turning and wriggling out of his grasp.
I hear his dejected groan behind me before he catches up and steals a peck on the corner of my smile. We saunter past more booths and people, proudly donning our flamboyant headwear, and stop only when we notice crowds assembled on rows of seats. They're all facing a platform with scarlet red curtains that are drawn together.
Harry and I weave for a while through the audience, searching for room to sit. Right as I have a feeling that we won't find any, a man catches our eye and he kindly moves over to make space for us. We thank him as we sit down.
"Alright, so it's not a drive-in movie theater like I promised you," Harry says, "but it's close enough, right?"
"It's fine, don't worry. Besides, I haven't seen live theater in---I don't even know how long."
"I used to be in plays myself when I was younger, have I ever told you that?"
"No you haven't. Elaborate."
"I think my first ever role was Buzz Lightyear from Toy Story. It was an odd little play that my school put on but I remember feeling such a buzz from being onstage. I knew quite early on that I wanted to be a performer." He pauses, licking the remaining cinnamon powder from his thumb. "I got a buzz from being Buzz," he laughs at himself. "Get it?"
I give him a blank stare, shaking my head. I will never understand how someone can be as equally dorky as they are charismatic and sexy.
"What other roles did you play?" I ask.
"I was a mouse in another play called Barney, the one and only time I've worn my sister's tights."
I giggle at the mental image.
"I was a damn good mouse, alright?" he says, attempting to contain his laugh with a serious expression.
"I believe you," I say, raising my hands in defense. "So no serious dramas, like Hamlet or Romeo and Juliet?"
"Not quite. I was more of a whimsy, musical performer. But I was very attentive in English, so I can still quote Shakespeare better than most proper thespians."
"Liar."
"Thou canst not speak of that thou dost not feel. Wert thou as young as I, Juliet thy love," he effortlessly recites, even adding dramatic hand gestures. "Romeo and Juliet."
I fight with myself to stay serious but I end up losing, doubling over in laughter.
Harry watches me quizzically, his mouth slightly ajar. "That was supposed to be romantic..." he says.
"I'm sorry," I say between breathy giggles, "but the hat and the ears---how romantic do you expect to be?"
"Have you seen the film Elf?"
"Only a thousand times. It's my favorite Christmas movie."
"Okay, so you know that romance and elves can happen."
"Whatever, that's just one movie," I say, waving my hand in dismissal. "You made it up, anyway."
"What, the Shakespeare quote?"
"Yeah."
"No, I didn't."
"Then what does it mean?"
"I can't tell you."
I stare him down but instead of an answer, I earn a crooked smile and chuckle from him. He closes the gap between us and snugly wraps an arm around me.
A sudden hush takes over the audience. Everyone cuts their conversations short and takes their seat while the curtains gradually spread apart, revealing a living room scene with a "brick" fireplace and fluffy stockings hung above.
Over the speakers, a soothing voice begins the narration. "'Twas the night before Christmas, when all through the house..."
• • • • •
Harry seriously does not know where we're going. But he's right, it's exhilarating taking the subway and getting off at a random station we've never been to before.
"Where are we?" I say as we ascend from underground.
The scenery is drastically different from what I'm used to in London.
"I didn't even know the tube reaches this far," Harry comments, scanning our surroundings.
Instead of skyscrapers and apartment buildings on crammed streets, there are vast, open fields and wide roads. The houses are all huge and identical and sit hundreds of feet apart. On top of everything is a thick layer of snow, as flawlessly white as marshmallows. It vaguely reminds me of my hometown.
"So where does our adventure begin?" I wonder aloud.
"Maybe this will have the answer," he says, pointing at a worn down sign that maps out the landmarks in town.
"Welcome to Cowlingham, Population: 874," I read to myself. Now I know where to go whenever I miss home.
Harry squints at the tiny, faded words on the map. "I can't tell what any of this reads."
"Then let's just pick a direction and go."
Harry's face lights up in equal parts shock and delight, similar to the expression he wore when I first told him I didn't know what One Direction was.
"Really?" he asks.
"Yeah, why not?" I say, although I can think of many reasons why not, like we could get lost and end up stranded and frozen all night in an unfamiliar town. But somehow it didn't bother me, as long as Harry's beside me.
His eyes twinkle at me as he smiles. "That's sounds ace, Jules."
At first we decide to head to the right but a sweet aroma dictates that we turn left. We follow our noses until finally, a field of tents materializes before us. Between them are clusters of overly-ornamented trees that range from tall to short, thick to thin. Looking up and out, there's a sea of velvety red hats with white, poofy balls dangling from the tip.
It doesn't take long to realize that Harry and I have stepped into the town's holiday fair. The sky is overcast and the wind is bitterly cold but that doesn't affect the locals' moods in the slightest. People are singing carols while others dance and play folky instruments at the same time. Everybody smiles and hugs and laughs like they've been friends since childhood, which is likely in a town this small.
The aroma grows stronger and invites us deeper into the fair. Its source, I discover, is a food vendor with a painted wooden sign, advertising Normandy Baked Apples."I can't believe they have these!" Harry exclaims as we join the long line. "I haven't had baked apples since I was a kid. My mum used to make them for me and all my relatives when they came over for Christmas."
I've never seen Harry so relaxed in public before. He hasn't once fiddled with his beanie or anxiously glanced around, and I suddenly realize why. Not a single person looks twice at him. They have no idea who he is.
I despise cinnamon but it's delicious sprinkled on this warm, crispy apple. We snack on them as we loiter further into the festivities. We walk past rows of game booths, bubbling with kids eagerly throwing darts at tiny balloons or tossing rings at glass bottles.
A man drags a rattling cart with various snacks, toys and accessories hanging off the side, pinching a horn that makes a squeaky eek-onk, eek-onk as he approaches us.
"Are you hungry, love?" the man asks me. I hold up my freshly nibbled apple as a polite response.
"Alright then, but your head must be cold," he says. "How about a lovely hat?"
Harry turns to me, grinning. "Yeah, Jules, how about a lovely hat?"
There's a plethora of them, all wild and whacky and enthusiastically holiday-themed. It seems everyone else has already grabbed the generic, plain Santa caps, so I pull an oversize, sequined green hat with a glittery gold band and pointy, foam elf ears attached on either side.
"Oh, excellent choice," Harry says, not bothering to hide his amused smile, which slightly falters when I yank the beanie from his head and replace it with the elf hat.
"Yeah, I'd agree," I say, shooting him a smirk. "And it matches your eyes."
Harry finds a reindeer-antler headband decorated with strands of multicolored lights and slides it into my hair. He adjusts it a few times before taking a step back. "And this is perfect for you," he says.
"You haven't even seen the best part yet!" the man says with genuine excitement. He reaches over and pushes a button beneath the fuzzy brown fabric.
My eyes roll the very top of my vision and I can see the tips of the bright lights, alternating colors every second. And, by God, is that music?
"Rudolph the red nose reindeer," the antlers sing, "had a very shiny nose."
Harry explodes with laughter while I grope around for the button and quickly shut it off. He clutches his stomach as he pays the cart salesman.
"You're wasting your money," I say, removing the hideous antlers from my head.
His eyebrows slant with dissapointment. "Please wear it. Just for today?"
"Absolutely not."
"I will if you do."
Harry turns to me with a hopeful expression under that sparkling green, cone-shaped ridiculousness, between the fake ears that are ten shades too light. For further encouragement, he holds a thumbs up on either side of his face and flashes me two rows of shimmering white teeth.
I give him a light shove as an indication of giving in. "You make a good elf," I giggle.
"And you make a hot reindeer," he softly says, pulling me by the waist and cupping a hand around my face.
"That's a little weird," I whisper against his lips before turning and wriggling out of his grasp.
I hear his dejected groan behind me before he catches up and steals a peck on the corner of my smile. We saunter past more booths and people, proudly donning our flamboyant headwear, and stop only when we notice crowds assembled on rows of seats. They're all facing a platform with scarlet red curtains that are drawn together.
Harry and I weave for a while through the audience, searching for room to sit. Right as I have a feeling that we won't find any, a man catches our eye and he kindly moves over to make space for us. We thank him as we sit down.
"Alright, so it's not a drive-in movie theater like I promised you," Harry says, "but it's close enough, right?"
"It's fine, don't worry. Besides, I haven't seen live theater in---I don't even know how long."
"I used to be in plays myself when I was younger, have I ever told you that?"
"No you haven't. Elaborate."
"I think my first ever role was Buzz Lightyear from Toy Story. It was an odd little play that my school put on but I remember feeling such a buzz from being onstage. I knew quite early on that I wanted to be a performer." He pauses, licking the remaining cinnamon powder from his thumb. "I got a buzz from being Buzz," he laughs at himself. "Get it?"
I give him a blank stare, shaking my head. I will never understand how someone can be as equally dorky as they are charismatic and sexy.
"What other roles did you play?" I ask.
"I was a mouse in another play called Barney, the one and only time I've worn my sister's tights."
I giggle at the mental image.
"I was a damn good mouse, alright?" he says, attempting to contain his laugh with a serious expression.
"I believe you," I say, raising my hands in defense. "So no serious dramas, like Hamlet or Romeo and Juliet?"
"Not quite. I was more of a whimsy, musical performer. But I was very attentive in English, so I can still quote Shakespeare better than most proper thespians."
"Liar."
"Thou canst not speak of that thou dost not feel. Wert thou as young as I, Juliet thy love," he effortlessly recites, even adding dramatic hand gestures. "Romeo and Juliet."
I fight with myself to stay serious but I end up losing, doubling over in laughter.
Harry watches me quizzically, his mouth slightly ajar. "That was supposed to be romantic..." he says.
"I'm sorry," I say between breathy giggles, "but the hat and the ears---how romantic do you expect to be?"
"Have you seen the film Elf?"
"Only a thousand times. It's my favorite Christmas movie."
"Okay, so you know that romance and elves can happen."
"Whatever, that's just one movie," I say, waving my hand in dismissal. "You made it up, anyway."
"What, the Shakespeare quote?"
"Yeah."
"No, I didn't."
"Then what does it mean?"
"I can't tell you."
I stare him down but instead of an answer, I earn a crooked smile and chuckle from him. He closes the gap between us and snugly wraps an arm around me.
A sudden hush takes over the audience. Everyone cuts their conversations short and takes their seat while the curtains gradually spread apart, revealing a living room scene with a "brick" fireplace and fluffy stockings hung above.
Over the speakers, a soothing voice begins the narration. "'Twas the night before Christmas, when all through the house..."
@twelve
Thank you so much! Means a lot. xx
5/12/14