The Baker

Harry shut off his mobile and placed it in his lap. All the arrangements were made and once he got in Doncaster he would assume his new temporary identity. All he had to do for now was get through his flight unnoticed. And so far he had managed it.

Just thinking about being recognized made him nervous though, he tugged the beanie he was wearing further down on his head and shrunk down in his seat.

He almost jumped a mile out of his skin when the stewardess tapped him on the shoulder. “Anything I can get you, Mr. Twist?”

“A drink please. Strongest thing you’ve got.”

“Sure thing,” she said with a nod and twitched away.

Harry, as a general rule did not drink on planes, unless he had someone to take care of him. But his nerves were such a frazzled mess he made an exception. Plus it wasn’t like one drink was going to get him completely smashed. He just needed to relax is all.

The click click click of heals alerted the edgy singer that the stewardess was back so he wasn’t surprised when her tan arm jutted out in front of his face. He made sure to keep his green eyes down to lessen the chance of being recognized and took the glass from her.

“Anything else I can do for you, Mr. Twist?” the woman who appeared to be thirty asked.

“No, thanks. I’m set for the rest if the flight, it’s a short one,” Harry murmured in the voice that wasn’t quite his own.

“If you change your mind I’m just a call away,” she said and twitched off again.

Harry chanced a brief glance around and saw that there were three maybe four others in first class. He hadn’t paid much attention when he first got on, on account of being so dead set on flying under the radar he had pretended to be wrapped up on his mobile until the pilot signaled to turn them off. Although, he didn’t know who he expected to be on the plane at this hour. He had left the hotel at half one and it had been an hour or two since then.

Once he realized no one was the slightest bit interested in him, he nursed his drink. Which he found out was vodka heavy. It wasn’t bad, but it wasn’t as good as the drinks his band mate Niall made. The little Irish bugger knew how to drink, bless his heart. Harry and Zayn just couldn’t keep up, and Liam, well, he didn’t drink much at all so he was virtually zero competition.

When the effects of the drink slowly started kicking in Harry shifted from anxious to bored and started messing with the little screen meant for in flight films. He settled on a picture he wanted to see and even though the head phones hurt his ears and he couldn’t get the volume adjusted right, anything was better than just waiting two hours.

He only made it about half way through the picture before the screen went black and the pilot came over the speakers announcing that they were expecting to land soon. Harry removed the head phones and sat up a little in his seat, getting antsy to stretch his long legs. Even the plane was very posh and Harry had flown on a lot worse before One Direction, he was still uncomfortable.

Fortunately, Harry got a chance to be on his feet for quite a while, the queue to get a taxi was rather unreasonable. Harry was just happy he wasn’t trapped on the plane any more. If need be he could make a quick getaway and that proved to be quite difficult when one was 35,000 feet in the air. A taxi with Harry’s name on it showed up, finally, he threw his bags in and got in one long leg at time.

“Where to?” The driver asked impatiently, not even bothering to glance at Harry in the rear view mirror. He just focused on jetting out into traffic.

Harry had to repeat the address twice before the driver got it right and much to Harry’s relief it wouldn’t be a long ride. He merely had to occupy himself for a handful of minutes, so he took the opportunity to text his contact and tell him that he was on his way. Before the screen could even fade to black on his mobile a text rang in letting Harry know that he was ready for him whenever he arrived.

The driver took his time pulling in front of the address Harry gave and whirred around with his hand outstretched for his fee. Harry tugged his beanie even further down on his head and handed the man what he owed him. He gathered his things and before he could even thank the man or bid him a goodnight he was pulling off the curb leaving Harry behind staring after him. Throwing his duffle bag over his shoulder, and wheeling his case behind him, Harry quickly made his way around the back of the shop and let himself in the entrance that he was told to come in.

It was a small flat that sort of overlooked the town and it was very heavily decorated, Harry thought, for a couple of lads attending Uni living there. The place sort of fascinated the singer, in that he wasn’t used to something so simple anymore. He was used to extravagance not a cluttered flat with mismatching furniture and cinema posters, and memos, and art tacked up all over the walls. In some sort of a daze Harry dropped his bags and walked over to the walls to further inspect the almost collage-like things scattered about them.

“Ah, if it isn’t Harry Styles,” a voice said from behind Harry and with a yawn and a pop of some bones it continued, “I fell asleep waiting on you to get here, but I haven’t gotten my proper rest. I reckon that you haven’t either so how ‘bout we get things squared away in the morning? My flatmate is gone for the weekend so you don’t have to worry about being disturbed.”

Now that he had mentioned it, the star was more than a bit jet lagged. He could use a few hours rest. He nodded and replied, “Goodnight, and thanks again, Stan.”

Stan sleepily shook his head and padded back to his room. Harry took it that he was supposed to sleep on the sofa and he didn’t bother with his clothes, he just flopped down onto the comfy piece of furniture and before his head hit the arm rest he was asleep.

Sun crept in through the drawn shades, Harry tossed and turned this way and that trying to keep the light from his eyes, but it was no use he couldn’t really escape it fully. He gave up and sat up stretching his arms high over his head and when his back popped satisfyingly he scratched his unruly curls and let out a deep yawn. He could get on with little sleep usually, but it seemed like he had only been out for a couple hours and that would simply not do. But he would have to make up for them later because just then pans clattered to the floor and Stan shot up from behind the kitchen counter and swore loudly.

“Sorry, mate, I tried letting you sleep until I made breakfast, but I guess my flatmate is right. I can’t be quite to save my life,” he said to the bed headed rock star.

Harry heaved himself up off the slightly worn out sofa and walked over and sat on one of the bar stools up against the counter. “It’s alright I was awake anyways. I feel like I just laid down, I guess I was more knackered than I realized.”

“Bolting from everything you know in the middle of the night does that to a person,” Stan said with a cheeky grin placing the cookware he needed on the stove top and shoving the rest of it in the cabinet.

Harry swiped a large hand across his face, which he noted had imprints of the sofa, and groaned. “I know it sounds like I’m a mad man, but you just wouldn’t get it unless you were in my situation. Sure it’s great having millions of fans that and adore you, but there’s also the press and paps that are on your every move. Harry’s seeming a little queer these days only hanging out with men, and so management surrounds me with women and then it’s Harry the huge womanizer will he ever pick a nice girl and settle down with. And so then management finds me a very popular well liked girl and she’s nice and all but I can’t stand her and the fans send her death threats and she isn’t even fazed she shows them to me laughing about it. And then the other lads get jealous of the attention I’m getting, but I can’t help it. How was I supposed to know I would be the most controversial member of this Godforsaken group?”

Stan cracked a few eggs and swirled the goo around in the pan before saying anything. “Stardom isn’t exactly what it’s all cracked up to be, who would have thought it,” he said more to himself than to Harry and laughed at his own pun.

Harry only let out an exasperated sigh. “I’m sorry, it probably all seems so petty to you. I mean you are probably struggling with finals and passing your courses and affording it all without your parents help. I just need a break and then I’ll go back and deal with it all. I know I sound ungrateful, but it’s so much strain, it really is.”

Stan arched a brow and added cheese to the eggs, which intrigued Harry. “Look, Haz, I’m not minimizing your problems in the least. I just can’t identify. But nonetheless I did promise to help you go off the radar until you can get your head together and that’s what I’m going to do. I can’t play therapist though, that’s not what I’m going to school for, sorry mate.”

“Right and I don’t expect you to. I just wanted you to know where I’m coming from. I know you probably think I’m an arse, but if you want to fill in be my guest,” the star paused and Stan shook his head. “I didn’t think so. I really appreciate your help Stan, I really do. My offer still stands for me helping pay off your loans if you change your mind.”

Stan cracked a grin and dumped cheesy scrambled eggs on the plate in front of Harry. “It depends on how much of a hassle you are, Haz. I might have you pay them off completely.”

Harry laughed and started scooping eggs off the plate. “That will have to wait until I go back home. I only brought enough for the trip and what you asked me to.”

“Just as well, the debt will still be there until you come out of hiding,” Stan chided with a laugh and made himself a plate of eggs.

The two sat in silence for a while devouring their breakfast looking similar to what starving wolves would look. And after seconds Harry collected the dishes and ran water to wash them up. It was the least he could do since Stan had agreed to help him.

Stan shook his head, but knew better than to argue with the stubborn lad. Instead he decided to get down to business. “So how attached to those curls are you?” he asked stroking his chin imagining Harry curl-less, it was a strange image.

Harry reached up instinctively and grabbed a few strands. He whimpered, “Pretty attached, but if I have to..”

“I think if we just took an inch off and maybe you didn’t put so much product in your hair they would be fine. Also how do you feel about contacts?”

Harry held back a terrified gasp at the thought of not shaping his hair the way he always did, and confusion swept over his features. “But I don’t need contacts.”

“Not regular contacts, Harry, coloured contacts. No one would look twice at curl-less brown eyed lad named Marcel,” Stan explained with excitement colouring his expression. He had put some thought in what he’d do to hide Harry’s very trademark features.

* * *

Harry had worked a bakery job before so he was quite familiar, but he still couldn't help from feeling so bloody nervous. He thought that it was partly because he was sporting a new short, almost curl-less, quiff under his beanie. Which he did in hopes of concealing himself.

He wasn't sure a haircut, change of wardrobe, glasses, and brown contacts would actually do the trick, but then again this is Doncaster. There was no good reason for Harry to be working in a bakery there, sure a few people might think he resembles the international star, but he could just smile and shake his head and imitate the local dialect, telling them they were mistaken and he didn't see the resemblance in the slightest.

If they were "his type" he would flirt with them and send them on their way. He couldn't flirt with the type he really wanted to in case he was found out they would realize he was off having gay escapades while they were losing buckets of money every hour he was gone. But if he accidentally sold a cup of coffee with an order of pastries and left his burner number on the cup of a cute lad's then there wouldn't be any harm.