Riptide • Harry Styles AU

Chapter 1

When Harry stepped outside to light up a smoke like he did every so often, he thought nothing of it. He did this every day, a few times a day actually. This particular side door of the Styles Tower led to the back alley where the garbage bins were and where delivery trucks would stop by with food or products for the hotel. The current manager of the building didn't argue when Harry asked if he could cut through the kitchen to use this door. It seemed to be the only door that outsiders didn't know about. This was as secluded as he could get and he loved it.

    The large metal door slammed behind him as he stepped off the short ledge and onto the cement ground. Broken pieces of glass and rocks of various sizes crowded the alley. He kicked a pebble against the wall opposite to him as he leaned back against the door.

    Harry pulled the small box of cigarettes out the pocket of his torn up jean jacket and took one out. He slid it in between his teeth and then pulled a lighter out of the other pocket.

    This wasn't an ordinary lighter though. He had owned this sterling silver Zippo Lighter since he was merely twelve years old. It wasn't a gift, nor did he purchase it. He was simply walking home from school one day and found lying in the grass. As a curious kid would, Harry picked it up and shoved it into his pocket.

    He paid no attention to the lighter, thinking it was one that could be purchased at your local corner store. Almost two years had passed when his grandfather was the one who finally pointed out how special the lighter was.

    "The decorative diagonal lines and rugged originality, this is a timeless piece you got here son."

    The lighter was from 1940, so not one of the original lighters, but still old enough to be a classic.

Over time, the chrome finish had lost its shine and he had even carved a small 'H' in the corner of it with a switchblade when he was 18. Harry knew that if he hadn't of used the lighter, it could probably sell for well over ten grand, but he didn't need the money. He needed a smoke.

    Right as the flame lit up the end of the cigarette that was dangling out of the corner of his mouth, he heard what sounded to be a cry. It wasn't loud, if anything it sounded like it whoever was crying was trying not be heard and Harry probably wouldn't have heard it if there were cars passing by or music playing from the kitchen inside the building like there usually was.

But it was close to three in the morning. No one was up. The city was quiet for once.

Cautiously, Harry shuffled his feet across the ground and towards one of the garbage bins where he originally heard the cry.

He exhaled a grey cloud of smoke before speaking. "Hello?"

No response. Instead, a faint sniffling.

The closer he got, the more he could tell about this stranger. It was a girl, he noticed the black pair of shoes she had on were more feminine than masculine. Her feet were sticking out from the side of the dumpster, so he assumed she had her knees curled up against her chest. She was definitely upset over something, but it didn't take a genius to know that.

For a split second he was worried that this girl was like the millions of others who was only trying to get close to Harry. He almost turned around and went back inside, but then he pictured a girl who was hurt and possibly physically broken. He wouldn't be able to live with himself if he left a wounded person alone in the middle of the night.

After inhaling another drag from the cigarette, he peered around the garbage and saw a young girl with long light brown hair covering her face. She had buried her head in her in her knees and her arms were wrapped tightly around them.