Two

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"I'll be your friend in hell. Until then, I despise you"

- Surprise, Surprise // The Starting Line

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June 19th, 2008 - Pomona, CA

Harry has his LG Voyager out before he reaches the top step of the bus, slamming his thumb down on the name "Sperm Donor" and holding it to his ear. Throwing his snapback onto the couch in the lounge area, he runs a hand through his disheveled hair and pulls at it.

Hearing someone come up the steps behind him, Harry whips his head to find that Jeff has arrived just in time to play hero.

Figures.

"What are you doing?" Jeff asks exasperatedly.

"What do you think I'm doing? I'm calling the wanker."

"You can't be serious, H. It's like 8 o'clock in London. He's probably in bed already."

"Then I'll keep calling until he wakes up."

Jeff's eyes roll to the back of his head, "You're impossible."

Harry glowers at Jeff as his father's annoyingly posh voicemail recording fills his ears, resounding like nails on a chalkboard. He grumbles and hits redial, continuing his pacing while Jeff eyes him wearily.

"What's he playing at, huh?" Harry demands, "How did this even fucking happen?"

"H, your dad had caught wind from mine that we were having a tough time trying to find two vans in enough time. A lot of the rental places were selling out fast."

"And whose fault is that?" Harry bites as he hits redial once more, "If you had looked for them back when I told you to, we wouldn't be in this situation."

"Harry, you have a tour bus instead of a cramped van where you'd complain about everyone being in your space. Do you even hear yourself right now? You're acting like a fucking idiot."

"I'm not acting like a fucking idiot, I'm just– agh! fuck it!" he chucks his phone next to his hat on the couch as he reaches his father's voicemail for the third time. Slumping down onto the seat, Harry's face falls into his hands.

Jeff takes a step in front of Harry and allows him to take a moment, crossing his arms patiently.

Harry feels himself getting out of the control, but that's only because he's losing control. Two Ghosts has never toured in the U.S. before and he needs everything to be executed flawlessly if he wants to continue doing the one thing that brings him the most joy in this world.

He knows very well that a bus versus a small van isn't going to make or break his chance of getting a winter tour lined up in the States– but "Styles" isn't exactly an unknown name, and while most people don't know who he is, they certainly know who his father is. In no way, shape, or form does Harry want this industry to assume he's using his father to get him ahead of the game.

Harry's going to do this right, and he's going to do this on his own.

"I'm starting to think this behavior has nothing to do with the bus anymore," Jeff observes quietly, sitting down next to Harry.

Harry's hands finally leave his face as he gives Jeff a jaded look, "It doesn't."

Being the son of Harrison Styles, the CEO and founder of Styles Records, certainly wasn't a choice for Harry, although the decision to become a successful musician on his own terms most certainly was. And he'll be damned if his father tries to prevent that from happening.

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