Hello Stranger

Harry bites down on the edge of the pen that was sat in between his fingers. He twirled it around a bit, almost dropping it a couple of times before he decided to stop the twirling. The pen wasn't even his. The bloke who was studying had been kind enough to lend him a pen; though by his smile Harry could already tell that the bloke was mentally saying goodbye to the pen. He understood though. His never got his pens back from whoever he lent them to, either.

His hand hesitated above the line on the blank page of the journal, before he pursed his lips and shook his head.

What was one supposed to write in a situation like such? He wanted to write back, because the whole concept seemed kinda cool to him – to have a chat (over paper) with someone who would literally not know who the fuck he was. It didn't matter that he was the Harry Styles. To this person, probably a girl, or perhaps a homosexual male, he'd be just Harry, except for the fact that he would literally just be Harry and not grow up to defeat the Dark Lord.

·

hi hello.

how are fuck this is awkwar what am i supposed t

·

Harry huffed, bringing a hand to his forehead as he rubbed at it in frustration. He wanted to write back. He really did, but holy fuck he didn't expect it to be this hard to come up with a decent reply to the owner of the journal. Harry took in a breath, screwing his eyes shut as he shook his head once. Then he opened his eyes and with a single nod to himself, brought the pen back down onto the paper.

·

i really don't know how to start this. i've already messed up my reply because of how i cancelled those things up there, but you'll be able to let that go, right?

anyway. hi. and nothing really compelled me to pick this up, honestly. it was just... there. in between the books. it was a different material, so i got curious. then i wanted to return this journal back to whoever it belonged to – you, i guess – so i opened it up and... yeah. you should know the rest. you put this there, didn't you?

it's a smart move, actually. putting the journal between the books. someone was sure to pick it up sooner or later.

and your professor can take his/her "i told you so" and shove it up their ass, because hello. i'm here. IN YOUR FACE, PROFESSOR.

that was weird. sorry. not gonna cancel it out though, since you've mentioned that this is basically about us getting to know each other through our letters? so yeah. there's something about me that you can jot down, if you have to. you know... for your paper. i'm kinda weird.

i'm of the male species. i'm kinda tall and i have brown hair and green eyes and i feel like i'm writing up a profile for a dating website or something. is this what this is? a dating profile but in a more subtle way?

hah. i kid.

what else do i tell you? um... i've an older sister, she's in uni, too. well, she was. she's already graduated and i've never been a prouder baby brother, even if it does annoy me when she calls me that. she's all flirty and more than likely dating one of my close mates and we're the same age, for christ's sake.

it's December 5th 4th today, by the way. in case you only come back for this on the tenth, or 2014, or something.

i'm hoping this whole 'getting to know each other' thing is two-sided, otherwise it'd feel a little weird that i'm telling you random little things about myself and you're just... there...

oh and um, there's a park, right across the street. put this in the tree hollow so that this thing can be between you and i. i've never done something like this before. i've never heard of something like this even being done before but hey, there's a first time for everything, isn't there? :)

- stranger x

·

Harry takes in a breath as his eyes skim over what he just wrote. He tried to write his entry back with good grammar, because he liked good grammar, but there could've been some mistakes that he missed. He was only hoping that the person he was writing to wouldn't be a twat and make fun of his grammar mistakes.

There was a reason he didn't go to college and why he's in a boy band, okay?

That's a lie. He had plans to go to college, but then One Direction became big so he just threw all of those plans away. Besides, why would he give up doing something he loved in favour of studying till his brain hurt just to get a nine-to-five job that he would ultimately have to stick with till the day he dies?

He shuts the journal then, carefully doing up the leather binding over and over again, because he was nervous about putting the journal where he found it. He was paranoid that the bloke working the cashier would notice that the journal wasn't even his and then proceed to yell at him for writing in it. (Even if the person he was writing back to said that they knew the people who work in the shop, he was still paranoid.)

Once he was pleased with how the leather binding looked, he got to his feet. He approached the bloke who's pen he borrowed first, giving it back to him with a dimpled grin and thanking him for lending him the piece of stationery.

Harry makes his way over to the shelf where he'd gotten the journal from in the first place. He slides it in between two other books, blowing out a breath between his lips as he did so. He was nervous.

He was proper nervous about leaving a book in which he'd written in (and he was meant to write in it). The pop star. The bloke who sang in front of hundreds of thousands of people. He was nervous about a bloody book.

"You're being dumb," he mumbles under his breath to himself as he shakes his head. One hand finally reaching out for the book he'd come in for in the first place.

And though his eyes lingered back to the spine of the journal, he didn't reach out and take it home with him, just because. He left it there, hoping that the person would reply and he'd be able to have a "conversation" with them without them ever knowing who he really was. All he really needed was someone to talk to sometimes. Maybe this person could be his someone.