The City That Never Sleeps

Chapter 1

This story is co-written by Maria (http://stylesness.tumblr.com) who writes as Harry and Rachel (http://rachielou.tumblr.com) who writes as Niall. I write the part of Zayn.

Please tell us/me what you think! (:

Introduction:

Niall’s POV

I balanced the mobile in between my head and shoulder as I bent down to put some more of my things into the cardboard box.

“Right, got your passport mate?” Liam asked, over the phone. I jumped over the box and climbed over my bed, grabbing it from the small table, and shoving it in my back pocket.

“Yeah mate, Think I’ve got just about everything.” I said, sealing the cardboard box up with tape and labeling it. 

“Good, you’d better hurry or you’ll miss your flight,” he told me, forever the daddy of our group, no matter how old we were getting. I quickly checked my watch and swore under my breath.

“The car's outside, Li, I’ve got to go!” I told him, grabbing my suitcase and hand luggage, and walking towards the door of my flat.

 “See you soon, Nialler. Love you mate.” He said, softly.

“Love you too buddy.” I said, clicking end call and sliding the phone into my pocket. As I was walking through the corridor to the lobby, I directed the moving men to my flat, and told them what needed to be shipped. I stepped outside and the screams began. I rolled my eyes and pulled my hood up, shoving my way through the girls crowded outside, completely ignoring them, and getting into my car. “To the airport.” I told the driver, sitting back in my seat. Let me explain a little. The boys had moved to New York around 6 months ago. I was with a girl who meant the world to me. She refused to move with me, which left me no other option but to stay in London. I saw the boys as much as possible, but it wasn’t good enough. The girl and I were going through a rough patch. She’d ended it with me about a month ago, leaving me heartbroken. I’d changed since then. Everyone could tell. I just couldn’t be bothered with fans anymore. I couldn’t be bothered with anyone, really. I’d finally made up my mind to fly over to New York and move in with the boys. We needed to be back together again, I needed them back in my life.

Zayn’s POV

The roar of traffic from outside my apartment woke me up. I rolled over onto my right side, my eyes barely open, my head pounding. I pulled the duvet tight around me; my boxers the only item that acted as a barrier between being clothed, and being naked.

“Shit,” I muttered, as a huge gust of wind carried sleet through the window into my messy bedroom. I jumped out of bed and did a little hop towards the window, trying to keep my duvet around my shoulders. I slammed the window shut with as much force as I could muster. I briefly wondered why last night I had decided that it would be a good idea to have it open. I looked out onto the traffic moving uptown in the street three floors below. Madison Avenue. 

When we first moved into our apartments six months ago, we had found it hilarious that we were living in Madison Avenue. The joke was getting old now, though, and when Louis and Harry fell into hysterics each time it was mentioned, I just turned away, faking a smile. I didn’t tend to laugh much anymore, or make jokes like I used to. It always used to be Niall who’d laugh at everyone’s jokes. I sort of missed having the goofy Irish boy laugh at everything we said. He just had such a positive outlook on life – that was, admittedly, admirable. I hobbled over to sit on my bed, and I picked up my phone from the bedside table, checking the date. I almost smiled when I remembered that Niall was coming back from London today. It would be good to have some positive vibes around. Maybe we could all get together and have a bit of banter just like the old days. I leant my head against the wall behind my bed and surveyed the mess of my room. Used cigarettes were strewn all over the floor, some having fallen out of my overflowing ashtray. I could still smell the faint scent of marijuana, and it brought back memories of last night. I remembered the grey blue smoke hovering over our heads, I remembered impressing some girls with the smoke rings I could blow. I remembered moving on to harder stuff, getting angry, and ordering everyone to leave the apartment. I remembered pretending to ignore the shake of Liam’s head as he left, almost pitying. I set to picking up the trash, trying to at least rectify some of the mess that was my life.

Harry’s POV

I woke up to a pounding in my head and the sun light hitting my face without any mercy. I let out a groan and turned around, my back facing the window that was the source of the uncomfortable feeling I had. Fucking sun. 

 I lay with my brain fully awake and my eyes closed for what seemed like a lifetime before I gave up and opened my eyes. There was no way in hell I was getting any sleep anymore. Suddenly I felt someone move beside me and I turned to look at the figure lying on the bed with me. There was a 27-ish year old woman lying with her exposed torso and just like myself, she was fully naked. Her blonde hair was tangled in the sheets and her red lipstick wasn’t anywhere near her lips anymore. I looked at her neck that had multiple love bites; apparently I’d had one of those nights again. I got up and looked at the clock on the bedside, 10am. I took one last look on the blonde woman before gathering my belongings and dressing myself down the hall. 

I was prepared for the walk of shame, or that’s what the guys liked to call it. I would fuck around, leave for the night and get back in the morning with bad sex hair. Some people might call it being a manwhore, I liked to call it one hell of a good time. What normal guy with their right mind would not enjoy the life I was living? Hopping from one woman’s bed to another, getting girls throwing themselves at me. How could I not take advantage of the privilege I had been given? I never took any of them to my apartment though, I wasn’t crazy enough to do it. If they wanted a piece of the famous Styles, it would be in their own house. 

I flipped my curls out of my eyes as I made my way of the stranger’s house and dial the only number I had memorized since moving to New York. Being here was a whole new ball game, but it was exciting and overwhelming.

“Hello?” the sleepy voice of Louis greeted me after that initial click of the phone.

“I was wondering if you had time for a cup of coffee?” I asked, knowing already the answer.

“Yeah, just let me get ready.” He gave me the answer I was hoping to get.

“I’ll wait for you down town,” I replied. I heard a silent murmur from Louis’ end and took it as a goodbye. I slipped my iPhone into my pocket and prepared myself to the unforgiving weather of New York.