Change Me ***EDITING***

I woke up with Nialls arm over my face, and Zayns leg on top of my leg.

"Guys...get off" I pushed Nialls arm off of me.
once I got Zayns leg off of me, I stood up slowly.
The clock said it was 6 pm. I've only been asleep for a couple hours? Weird. I thought it was the next morning.
I opened the door, and exited quietly. Trying not to wake the guys. Just as I was about to walk down the hall, Harry came out of his room.

"Uh hi Harry. Sorry about earlier.." I walked up to him.
"Dont worry about it. I just didnt know you were a smoker."
"Well..I guess you don't know me very well." I let out a small laugh.
"yeah I guess...." Harry said, shoving his hands into his pockets.
"Um, I was just about to go to the tea shop a few blocks down...you wanna come?" I asked.
"Sure. Do you mind if we stop somewhere on the way?"
"Yeah no problem." I said.

We walked to the lobby, and out the door.
We were walking down the street, making small talk.
All of a sudden Harry stopped in front of a record store.

It was called "Urban Records"
He held the door open for me and I walked inside. It smelt like air freshener and cigarettes.
"Have you ever been in a record store before?" Harry asked, walking over to the endless shelves of records.
"Are you kidding me? I basically lived in the record store back home!" I exclaimed.
"Really? What kind of music are you into? Nicki minaj? Lady gaga?.." Harry joked
"Try the Ramones, Jimi Hendrix, The sex pistols, Arctic Monkeys, The Cure, Rolling Stones, Elvis Castillo, The Honorary Title, The Black Keys, Nirvana, MGMT, should I go on? Cause I can go on for hours..." I said.

Harry just looked at me shocked. His jaw was practically on the ground.
"Wow.. I never would have guessed you had such great music taste.. " he mumbled, searching through the records.
"Well, once I got my record player, music was my escape. I knew everyday after I got home from school, my father would beat me. I was used to it, you know? But what gave me hope was knowing that, after he hurt me physically, I could go up to my room and put on a record. And the songs would heal me emotionally. " I said, pulling out a Ramones record.
I looked over to Harry who was just standing there, staring at me. He looked like he was about to say something. But I didn't want him to. I didn't tell him that to make him pity me, I don't really know why I told him. I just did.
I handed him the Ramones album.
"Get this one. It'll change your life" I smiled.
"alright" he said.
We headed to the cash register.
Suddenly Harry asked
"Brooklyn..do you really believe that?"
"Believe what?"
"That an album can change your life.?" Harry questioned.
"Well. They changed mine." I said simply.
He didnt answer. Just handed the cashier the money, and we walked out.
We made our way to the tea shop, got our tea, then headed back to the hotel.

Harry walked me to my hotel room.
"Harry..I forgot to ask, how did it go with your mom?" I asked.
"We'll talk about it In the morning." Harry smiled.
"please tell me now!!" I said excitedly jumping up and down.
Harry chuckled, then he said simply
"It went well. She wants us to all move in with her. She lives in a huge house by herself. Would you be okay with that?"
"Yes Harry that would be wonderful..are you sure she doesn't mind? I don't want to intrude..." I said.
"yes. I told her all about you. She wants to keep us all safe and away from my father and his gang." Harry said.
"okay." I sighed in relief.
"We will talk more about it tomorrow. Get some sleep." Harry smiled.
"okay. Thank you Harry."
"Youre welcome..oh Brooklyn? Do you still have your record player now?" Harry asked.
"no sadly..I left it at my dads house..never had to chance to go back and get it after being sent to the orphanage..." I frowned.
"I'm sorry.." Harry said, giving me a hug.
"It's alright. Night harry."
"Night Brook"

he entered his hotel room.




Harry's pov.

I feel so bad that Brooklyn no longer has a record player.
I know what I need to do...
She deserves it..

Notes

Sorry it's short, and un-edited. But I felt like I needed to update.
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