pages- harry styles (au)

one

A/N- Hi everyone!! This is the first chapter, I hope you all really enjoy this story, because I have alot planned for it. Oh! And Sorry this chapter is a little short, its just that its 1:30 am here, and I am very very tired. Thank you all for your nice comments that you guys have left already on the prologue, I love getting comments. So Please Comment and Vote!! Enjoy!!) [edited on 11.20.14 by @animalik]
_____________________

It was only March, but it was still freezing out. I had just put on a new pair of leather brown combat boots that I had been eyeing at the store for months, and a brown jacket that was way to thin for the cold, spring weather. It was early, too early, as I was feeling extra sleepy; and felt as if my body was too heavy to carry down the street.

I walked along the New York City street, black backpack settled comfortably on my back. Even though it was early out, there still were many people going somewhere, each to a different place. That was what made me love life; everyone had a different story, their own place to be. Even though they were all going somewhere else, we all shared that small moment of their story together.

I pushed my scattered thoughts out of my head, and focused instead, on getting to work on time. I worked at a little bookstore nestled in between two large buildings. The bookstore was my getaway, even though it was a job. I saw it as much more. I saw it as a home, a safe haven even. If I was feeling sad or lonely, which was too often for my taste, I would grab a cup of coffee from the small cafe across the street, nestle up with a bean bag chair in the corner of the bookstore, and loose myself in a book.

I had no friends really, just co-workers. The closest thing I had to a friend, were books. I loved falling into the characters' lives and pretending to live in their world as they told me about it. Book characters life's were so amazing, and intriguing; while mine on the other hand was boring and plain.

When I was 17, I moved from a small town in Maine, to New York. It had always been dream to move there and become a publisher or an author. Sadly, after the first year of college I ran out of money to pay the tuition, so I dropped out and got a job at the book store. I couldn't go back home because my parents weren't really my parents anymore. About 3 years ago, my parents both came home from a party, and they were both really drunk. It wasn't anything I wasn't used to; they did it all the time. This time was different though, because they came home and started beating me and my brother. It was completely out of nowhere. My neighbor called the cops, and my parents lost custody of me and my brother. We got put in the foster system, and I stayed in it until I was able to move out.

I had been working at the book store for 8 months. It wasn't anything special. I got paid $15.85 an hour, and was able to have 3 weeks vacation every year. That was my life. It was boring and lonely, but it would all pay off one day, I just knew.

I made my way through the crowds of people, and just as I was about to step off of the sidewalk to cross the street, I tripped over the strap on my new boots, and landed flat on my face. After the few tears that had developed from the pain left my vision blurry, I waited a few seconds for it to be made clear again. I took in my surroundings and realized that a small crowd of passerby's had stopped to watch me. Wiping the dirt off my jeans, I stood up to relieve myself from any further embarrassment. I began to walk away from the scene, but someone grabbed me by the arms before I was able to go any farther.

"Miss, I think you dropped something, you know, when you fell," I looked behind me to see a man in his later 40's, holding out a leather book.

"Oh, uh that's not mi-" I began, but before I was able to finish my sentence, the man placed the book in my hand and was already on his way in the other direction.

I let out a long sigh as I placed the book in my backpack, and finally began to embark on the last leg of my journey to the bookstore. The wind began to pick up as I paced across the street and onto the sidewalk, so I took my dirty blonde hair, and placed it up into a pony tail.

After what seemed like a whole eight days of walking, I made it to the bookstore. I pushed open the green door, and heard familiar bell chime.

"Emma, how are you dear?" I heard Cathy say.

Cathy was one of my co-workers, she possibly was the only person I could call "a mother figure" around there. She was always so sweet, and I thought she was the happiest person in the world.

"Okay, I guess," I replied, knowing it was barley the truth.

I made my way back to the staff room to put away my things. Walking into the back of the store, I took off my jacket, and placed my backpack - which was beginning to tire my shoulders - onto the table. I opened the backpack, and retrieved my lunch to put in the fridge. The journal now laid at the very bottom of my backpack. I picked it up and ran my cold fingers along the edges, it was tattered, and well used. The brown leather was ripped, and a piece of paper was spilling out of the book. I pulled it out and read it.

"If found please return to Harry Styles."