BLUE: AHarryStylesFanfic

1

(Emma Mackey is Blue Reign)

.Harry.

After my mate bailed out of a holding cell, I stayed out all night to celebrate getting away with money laundering. In my defence, I didn't know I was helping someone fund their drug cartel through a f*****g shoe shop, but the cops don't care, and that's f*****g stupid. But I'm lucky I got off easy because money laundering will land you in Federal prison.

I just got home, and I know damn well, my mum is awake and pissed off again.

"s**t," I mumbled under my breath as I slammed my car door closed. Shuffling my hand around in the pocket of my leather jacket, I pulled out my house key and shoved it into the keyhole. God, it's so cold out here, and the snow is beginning to stick.

Twisting the knob, I threw the front door open. I stumbled into the house as my foot kicked the door closed, and I leaned on it to stable myself. The time was half-past three in the morning, and I knew my mum was still up waiting on me like she always does. Pushing myself off the door, I stumbled into the kitchen and set down the half-empty bottle of bourbon in my hand.

"Mum?" Waiting for an answer, no one called back.

"Hello?" I yelled, hoping someone would answer. I ignored the temptation to call out again as my feet shuffled to the stairs leading to the basement, which I turned into a bedroom. I nearly tripped over myself as I opened the door.

Clutching my chest, I jumped.

"Mum?" I asked, surprised to see her in my room. Looking around, I notice my stuff was in moving boxes. My mum, looking into my eyes and I could see the red and tears.

"What's going on?" I asked, trying to understand why my room is empty. Everything was either in a duffle bag, a suitcase, a box, or a trash bag.

"Mum?" I asked again, hoping she says something. Her hand lifted, and in it was a pair of lilac women's panties.

"Who does this belong to?" She asked, throwing it to the floor. I shrugged, making her roll her eyes.

"Seriously, Harry? You don't know?" I nodded as her head dropped. I wonder if she knows I got arrested and then bailed out. Asking her is a bad idea, so I won't.

"I don't know whose it is, and I probably never will! Why do you care so much anyway?" I asked, knowing she looks down on this kind of behaviour. Let's say it isn't hard for me to get a girl. I don't try; they come to me.

"Because it's wrong to treat people like objects! Do you even remember any of the girls' names? I didn't raise you to cheat and play with people's emotions like this, Harry! It's barbaric, and you know that! You know damn well you hurt those girls' feelings!" Rolling my eyes, I sighed. She never fails to tell me what piece of s**t I am. I'm an asshole, I know that, but I'm tired of hearing her say it.

"Harry, we had a deal. I can't keep doing this with you. You say you're sober, and you say you'll stop sleeping around, and you say you'll go back to school, but you aren't, son. I want you to get better, but if you aren't going to change, then you're going to have to go because I have to stop enabling you." She said, letting more tears drop. My heart sank as I refused to comprehend her words.

"Enabling me?" I asked, chocking on my words.

"Yes, Harry, I am." Slowly standing up, I looked down. I don't know why I'm surprised by this. It's not like I haven't been lying about getting sober.

"How?" I asked, fishing around in my jacket's pocket.

"By letting you live here. You're twenty-two years old, Harry. I can't defend you all your life. You need to grow up, and you can't do that here." I can not hear another word from her as I sink onto the concrete turned carpet floor. My family and I had a fallout, and it never got better. I don't know what the situation's about, so after a while, I stopped asking. Our family has so many uncovered secrets, and it irritating feeling like I'm just the f*****g outsider in my own damned house.

"So that's it then? That's your big plan? You're gonna kick me out because of one drink?" I know that's not the only reason. There's a lot that led up to this moment. Not my fault, my dad- nevermind about that. I still don't know, but what I do know, he's a piece of s**t, and he must've done something to piss my mum off to the point she kicked him out.

"It's not just one drink, Harry, it's hundreds more and drug abuse. I am torturing myself by watching you throw your life away before it even starts. It's too much for me, and you know that. Your father and I left Texas to get out of everything you brought into the house." Pulling out the cigarette I desperately crave, I lit it and let out a few puffs of smoke. Her words suffocate me more than my fear of death.

My parents are Texan in the United States of America, so they don't have the same accent as me. I sound the way I do because of school. I was more exposed to my classmates than my parents.

"Where will I go? You know damn well no one else will take me in." I said. It's true; everyone in my family cast me out and took my dad's side and didn't care for my reasoning. As I said, I don't know what he did for our family to divide, but I'm assuming it's devastating.

"I bought you a plane ticket to my home city Austin, Texas." My eyes widened, and it felt like they could fall out.

"You're sending me to the States?" I asked, standing up.

"You left me no choice, Harry. I'm sorry it has to be this way, but I don't want to get a call saying you're dead and have to bury you, baby. You're my son, and I only want what's best." She said, handing me my plane ticket.

"Where the f**k am I going to live?" I asked, raising my voice a little.

"Your dad got you an apartment, and he paid in full." I hate that guy.

"Derek bought a flat for me? That's hard to believe." I scoffed at the idea of that fucker being remotely generous towards me.

"Why the f**k would you send me to that prick when I don't even know what he did to our family?" I said. I deserve some answers at this point. I'm twenty-two, not fourteen.

"One last thing," She said, pulling out a pamphlet. She's sending me to see a therapist. Why would she send me to a different country when there's a therapist around the block?

"You do realise there are plenty of therapists here," I said before taking another drag on my cigarette.

"I know there are a lot of therapists here, but you have too much bad blood here, and you won't be able to solve your problems in the environment that caused them." That makes no f*****g sense. She wants me to run away to solve them, but not solve them where they need to be. Where's the logic? It's easier to be successful when you're out of the situation, but if you get put back in the environment in which it happened, it's harder because you never dealt with it for real. All you did is solve it on paper because it's easier said than done.

What the f**k.

"You can't force me to go. I'm twenty-two, not fourteen! You could've gotten me the help sooner, and maybe I would've had a f*****g shot in life, but time passed and everything went to s**t. ," I said, voicing my thoughts out loud.

"I may not be able to, but police and doctors can." Rolling my eyes, I stood up. Tossing my half-smoked cigarette on my carpet, I stepped on it, knowing there'd be a burn mark. There, now she has no choice but to remember the day she sent her son across the pond to f*****g Texas.

"What are the police going to do, mum? Nothing! And why? Because I haven't done anything illegal." That is the biggest lie of the century. Pulling something from her pocket, she threw it at me. Catching the small plastic bag, I sighed.

"Then what's that?" She asked as my eyes focused on the white powderlike substance. How did she find this? She must've spent a lot of time here when I left midday yesterday.

"Can you tell me you didn't just drive home drunk at three in the morning? Can you tell me you don't have any speeding tickets? What about the other multiple arrests for assaulting a cop? Tell me I'm making it up, Harry! Tell me it's all in my head!" She shouted at me, making me flinch.

"Can you tell me about the unpleasant phone call I got from the police department saying you're behind bars for money laundering? What the f**k, Hero? Why did you think it was a good idea to give money to f*****g drug dealers? I can't even look at you!" She screamed, and I know she woke up the entire house and possibly half the neighbourhood.

"I didn't know what I was doing was illegal until I got arrested! You act as though I go out of my way to break the f*****g law for fun!" I fired back at her. Noel f*****g Shaffer, everyone. Why is her last name different? She's remarried to some rich guy I don't give a flying f**k about at all.

"Harry, you need something healthy! You dropped out of University, and for what? You're an amazing artist, and you are insanely talented when it comes to your paintings, and I hate seeing you throw it away for drugs, money, and sex." I rolled my eyes, annoyed because she has yet to stop reminding me of my reckless and impulsive decision to drop out of school. I didn't show up often anyway.

"You threw away a four-year full-ride scholarship! It was free money, and you threw it away! Do you know how many kids don't go to school because of the price? You should've been grateful, but you don't give a s**t about anything and anyone else!" Her face, red in anger and frustration. 

"You were the one trying to get your success through me, so I'm sorry I am not your f*****g trophy anymore!" I fired back.

"Do you hear yourself? What parent wouldn't show off their child if they were good at something? Those who don't care, so I'm sorry for giving a s**t about you!" I looked at the floor. I've never seen my mother this upset. I wonder how long she's been dying to say all of this to me.

"If you don't go, you're going to find yourself behind bars, and I do not plan on visiting any of my children in prison!" She yelled before picking up one of my duffle bags and threw it at me.

"Get out, and don't come back until you've learned some sense of maturity, discipline, and responsibility." She turned from me and headed out of my room. Looking down at the plane ticket, I sighed. I know I can't take all of this stuff with me. If she thinks I'm coming back, then she's the one who's doing drugs. She gave me my ticket out of here.

I left without a goodbye after I repacked what I wanted and what I didn't want. I went with my duffle bag and suitcase, and I called for a cab because I won't need my car anymore. Throwing my s**t in the back seat, I got in, and the cabby drove me to the airport, where I'll have to wait for two hours. It's not too bad, but the airport food is overpriced, but I'm going to have a killer hangover if I don't drink water.

I sat around, playing on my phone as I let it charge, and ate an overpriced hamburger and drank overpriced water. Taking it upon myself, I looked up the city of Austin, Texas. It's the mini version of Los Angeles, California, in every way shape and form. They have shirts that say: Keep Austin Weird.

They have several festivals, and one of their biggest hits is a f*****g furniture store called IKEA. What's so exciting about staring at f*****g chairs and s**t? Is it hyped up, or is it as fun as the reviews say? I mean, if you find staring at inanimate objects fun, then their catchphrase, Keep Austin Weird, fits perfectly. They also have a peacock park. I have never heard something so oddly intriguing in my life until now.

The traffic seems to be awful, and rush hour seems to be the worst. At least they get a lot of sun in Texas. London and the rest of England look gloomy as f**k because of the rain and clouds.

Two hours later, and I was inside the aeroplane. The flight attendant went through her protocol, but I ignored her because I know the drill. Once the plane took off, I shut my eyes and listened to music. The flight wasn't as long as I thought it'd be, so I'm a little disappointed with the amount of sleep I got. I think it's because I'm hungover and pissed off at my mum.

Now, how the f**k will I get to my flat when I have no f*****g clue where I can get a ride? I aimlessly walked through the airport before I heard someone call my name. Looking behind my shoulder, I scanned the room before my eyes landed on a girl who had a small poster with my name on it — her hair's short, dark brown with bangs that are grown out. Her eyes are a light soft brown. Her pale skin decorated with barely-there freckles that scattered over her uniquely-shaped nose and sculpted cheekbones and down to her defined jawline. Her lips, full and soft pink. She's hot. She was wearing high waist black skinny jeans that showed of her fantastic figure, with a somewhat sheer pink halter top, and a pair of black Chelsea boots.

"Me?"I asked, and she nodded.

"You're the one who turned around." She said. I was taken back by her quick comment and her similar accent mirroring mine.

"The odds of meeting someone from my home country are slim, but here you are," I said, making her roll her eyes. She's got an attitude, and it's already driving me insane. No girl has ever talked back to me like this before. If she knew who I was, she wouldn't be so quick to open her mouth.

"Fine then, what's your name?" I asked.

"Blue Reign," She said, making me stifle a laugh.

"Is there something funny about my name?" She rhetorically asked. I shook my head, trying not to laugh.

"Good, take your s**t, and follow me." She's feisty, and nowhere near the girls I usually talk to back home. Most of them would bring me water at the snap of my fingers.

"Where are we going?" I asked, but she didn't answer.

"Can you answer me?" I snapped.

"I could, but you have the I'm an arsehole kind of vibe, and I'm not into it." I'm the one who's being an arsehole? Okay, this b***h needs to watch her back because no one talks to me like that.

"You're calling me an arsehole? I barely met you." I said as we stepped out and into warmer weather. Why does it feel like seventy degrees? It's December!

"Well, I think you'd call anyone an arsehole if they laughed at your name, Harry, and your name is the perfect target." She does not hold back, not one bit, and for some reason, I like that. She might be brutally honest, but at least I'm not getting lied to in my face. It's as though she isn't afraid of me like most.

"That's fair," I said and continued to follow her. Pulling out a set of car keys, she hit the unlock button and a sleek black Jaguar. There's no way this is hers, and these things cost a fortune.

"You act as you've never seen a sports car," Blue commented while popping the boot.

"I have, but I have never seen one in person," I said as I put my stuff in the back. Closing the trunk, she got in the driver's seat, and I got on the passenger side.

"Then today is your lucky day, Harry." She said before she peeled out of the parking lot and down the road to who knows where. The drive wasn't long, but I don't think I'm in a flat complex.

"I'm supposed to be in a flat, not in that house," I said, looking up at the estate.

"I know, but your mother doesn't need to know that. Derek said flat, so your mother wouldn't freak out about your living situation." I didn't know Derek owns a f*****g mansion.

"I take it you've never been here." I nodded. Wait, how does she know my dad?

"Mind telling me why you know my dad?" I asked as she got my belongings out of her car.

"I'm gonna stop you right there." She said. That's so f*****g sketchy.

"Are you sleeping with him?" I asked before I could stop myself.

"Oh my god! No! Why would you ask me that?" She asked, offended and defensively.

"Well, you won't tell me, so I'm left to assume," I said as she pulled out a key. Unlocking the door, we stepped inside. I thought the outside was a bit much, but the inside looks like a museum. I'm afraid to touch anything. Even the f*****g lamps look ridiculously expensive. I could sell one of the coffee tables, and it'll take care of my student debt and still have a lot of money left over.

After she showed me to the rest of this ridiculously big house, she led me to a bedroom.

"This your room. Closets in the bathroom and TV remotes are on the nightstand. You know where the kitchen, living room, and family room are. I showed you the back yard, the game room, and the garage and the man cave. All of the car keys are in a safe, and I gave you the code. Always make sure you lock it after closing it no matter what and make sure the garage door closes before coming back inside the house. If you need anything, don't call me, I won't answer." She said before leaving me to unpack.

She's hot.

Midway through unpacking, I heard someone knocking on the bedroom door.

"Who is it?" I called out from inside my new closet.

"Your dad!" I froze as his voice. My heart sank while beating fast. I haven't seen my dad since I was fourteen.

"Um- come in, I guess," I said.

"Hello, son." My head snapped up at my dad. My dad's eyes widened as I stood up straight,

"My god, you've grown so much!" My dad exclaims, trying to act like he didn't let eight years go by without so much of a f*****g phone call.

"Yeah, should've seen it as it was happening," I said, and his face dropped.

"Harry, I don't have an excuse, but you need to know I am trying." He said, making me roll my eyes.

"Seriously, I mean, look at this house. You've rebranded yourself, and I wasn't a part of that." I have so much to say, but I'll save it for now. It's not like we were broke our entire lives, he just started shoving it in everyone face.

"Unfortunately, I didn't change when I had the chance, but as long as I'm alive, I will always have a chance." I don't need this sap motivational speech.

"Yeah, okay, whatever. I need to finish unpacking, but if you keep standing there, I'm going to remind you where I got all of my arsehole tendencies." My dad sighed and placed his hand on my shoulder.

"Get some rest. I know the jetlag will catch up to you soon." He said, heading out of my room.

Too much in one day.