Harry Styles Shorts and One Shots

Short Story: Rhythm

Story request by: @rose_2898
I'm finally writing a 1D story 🤭 it's FBH timeeeee. Please enjoy as always ❤️

Tw: slight age gap (older y/n), descriptive smut, unprotected sex, enemies to lovers, use of drugs, use of alcohol, angst, controlling ex, mental health issues

I'll add more TWs as the story progresses based on what I want to write. Be sure to check back every chapter!!

18+ only

Word Count: 3,700

Y/n

There's nothing I love more in this world than music. It's all I've ever had interest in in my life this far. Ever since I was a little girl, I always was either singing loudly around the house, or banging something against a hard surface to mock a drummer. When I was still in diapers, I'd use my Barbie dolls as drumsticks and smack them against the oven door. My parents didn't like that very much, obviously, and eventually got me a small kid's drum set.

I'd play all the time. Of course it was shitty since I was just a little kid, but I eventually got better, and even ended up going to lessons by the time I hit fifth grade. It's my favorite instrument to play. I've dabbled in guitar and even mandolin, but it's not the same thrill as giving your all to a set of drums.

That being said, I'm obviously thrilled when I see online that there's an audition to be a drummer in a band that hasn't yet been disclosed. Are they famous? They have to be if they're not telling who it is. Oh, my god. What if it's for someone huge like Fleetwood Mac or Aerosmith? That would be a dream come true.

I instantly sign up, already feeling giddy just from my wild imagination. Hopefully they're looking for someone younger, like me. I'm only twenty-three years old and barely figuring out my life. This would make it easier to plan for my future, and hopefully pay well, too.

I've recently broken up with my ex-boyfriend, Rodrick, and moved back in with my parents. He was just such a psychotic asshole, I couldn't take it anymore. We were together for three years. Things were wonderful until I realized how intensely controlling he was. He'd monitor my phone, my calorie intake, what I wear, who I'm friends with, everything. It happened so gradually that once it was in full-motion, I hardly realized the reign he had on my mind and life.

He was pissed when I broke up with him, but leaving him wasn't the part that hurt me. I needed my freedom, and even though I'm with my parents, I'm immensely happier. Rod still tries to contact me, but I always ignore it. I'll never speak to him again as long as I live.

Hopefully they'll love me at the audition and I can eventually move out to be on my own. I love my mom and dad, but I hate the feeling of being a burden. They've never done or said anything to imply that I am; it's just my own insecurities telling me so.

Music blares through my headphones, my eyes on my ceiling as I listen closely to the drums in the background. I'm bobbing my head up and down, twiddling my fingers against my chest as my toes bounce in time with them.

In the corner of my eye, I see movement at my bedroom door, making me sit up and pop out a headphone. My dad smiles brightly as he peeks his head in slowly.

"Sorry, honey. I knocked, but I just wanted you to know that your mom made dinner."

I beam back at him, turning my music off. "Okay, I'm coming."

At the dining room table, I'm sat across from my mom with my dad at the head of it, all of us eating peacefully.

"So, I have some news," I begin, my parents looking to me from their plates, "there's this audition tomorrow for some band that needs a drummer. I signed up."