Stripped | h.s

3. Alone in a house.

MAIN TRACK: Into The Fire - Asking Alexandria

Harry Styles -

- Insanity is a relative thing.

For me, it is the days when I can think most clearly. -

London doesn't offer the same nice weather L.A. did, nor did it offer the same nice mood I had been in either. Several different factors contributing to the clouds in my mind, I reckon.

I stand on the great asphalted area of the more secluded little area of Heathrow Airport and snow drifts in the wind over the vast, concrete plain with trees sporadically planted along its outskirts; now naked during the newborn year.

My breath turns to mist the very second it leaves my mouth and as I light my cigarette it thickens into a grey cloud spreading with the chilly wind.

It's around seven in the evening and it will be at least another hour until I'm home in my house where I can just take a shower and take something for this terrible stress gnawing inside of me. Not to mention I could just go to sleep.

"It was rad, mate. Thanks." Oli says as he brings me into a light hug with one of his slender arms. I answer the gesture with a grunt; watching the cigarette smoke spread around our connected heads.

Hannah just arrived, taking Oliver home and she waves to us from the red car a distance away. Lazily I raise my hand to wave back; the cold biting my fingers exposed to the elements.

"Yeah, don't mention it. It was good having you." I answer as we part and Oliver pats my shoulder once before he turns and take his bag where our luggage had been piled up to be taken care of.

Rhys, my number one guard and driver is taking care of my own bags and I'm happy he could come pick me up when I'm in this mood. Rhys has been working for me for a good while now and I consider him a friend, even. We can easily grab a beer and just chat when time is given.

I watch my friend greet his woman with a warm hug and I can't help but to think about Ruth that stayed behind in L.A. She had a modeling job and won't be coming back to England until the end of the week.

"Are you ready, Harry?" Rhys calls from the black car being my ride tonight and releasing a deep breath I lick my lips and look around. It's dark outside yet the artificial lights in plenty have it look almost like dusk.

I pull my black trench coat tighter around me before I aim for the car, engine running and the headlights throws warm circles of light on the hard, snow covered ground.

We had been partying until just a few hours before we took my private jet back to England and even though we spent most of the flight here, asleep; I feel like I haven't slept for ages.

There's also the slight sweat along my hairline and the evident chill in my bones gossiping about that my body is working fulltime trying to get the remaining alcohol and chemicals out of my system; a light tremble to my hands just underlining said fact.

Putting out my cigarette, crushing it with the sole of my boot I jump into the passenger seat of the car, warm and toasty unlike the outside world. I can see my reflection in the rearview mirror and I run a hand through my messy hair. I look like shit.

I can hear Rhys slamming the trunk shut and soon enough he is beside me, huddling inside his black jacket much warmer than my coat.

"So, straight home?" He asks as he let the car know it's time to move and rubbing my thighs with my palms I only nod, grounding my jaws together as I try to get rid of the itching stress lurking under my skin.