Hello Stranger

Harry is actually literally so excited to go back home, just because he wants to continue his "conversation" with the stranger with the journal. He's not dreading the three hour drive as much as he normally would, he's not as upset as he would be when he's to say goodbye to his family (up until he comes back to visit, or they pop by London) and he's just proper excited about getting back in touch with the stranger.

It's literally only been over the weekend, but he feels like something's missing. Which is far from odd, seeing as how they only started the whole thing literally two entries ago? Three entries, maybe? But he's become so attached so quickly, and he didn't even know the person he was writing to.

That was what made it all the more special, honestly.

Harry's always been the type of bloke that falls hard, and falls fast. He likes to think that he's not shallow but it's really only in his human nature to seek out the more attractive females first. And most of the time, they're nice at first and he falls – he falls so fast – only to realise that they're just using him for their five minutes of fame, or their shot at their furthering whatever career (in the entertainment industry) they desired. The contributing factor that he usually has a strong physical attraction to these women also play a part.

Physical attraction is an actual thing. People may try to guilt trip and/or shame you for not "giving someone a chance" but if a physical, mental or emotional attraction wasn't even there, the 'relationship' or whatever would've failed before it even begun.

The curly-haired lad is only leaving his flat once he's sure that there won't be cohorts of students walking home from school, because he really just wants to get the journal and head back into the flat. Curl up, read it, maybe write back, or maybe read a book first. Louis' gone to stay in Doncaster for the rest of their time off, and if he weren't in Doncaster, he'd be heading to Manchester because that's where Eleanor is.

Harry hasn't actually seen his other bandmates since their tour ended which was a strange thing for him. He's so used to having them around him constantly in a little bus that just not seeing them now was... Different. Good different, though. Best mates or not, they still needed a break from each other every once in a while.

Plus, he's going to see them when they perform at The X Factor USA's final. That's coming kind of soon, so it really wouldn't be that long till he's going to be reunited with the brothers that he never knew he wanted up until he had them.

The walk to the park is quiet and quick, because Harry's got a goal in mind – get to the tree, pick up the journal, head back. Maybe he'll even go to the bookstore instead of going back to the flat because he hasn't been there in a while and he actually misses it. The smell of books and coffee combined is something that would sound strange but was actually the most heavenly smell ever to him.

Harry picks up the journal exactly where he's left it, though it's clearly been moved since the little twigs and leaves he'd used to disguise it was moved and it just sat there – waiting for someone (Harry) to pick it up.

The bells hanging above the glass doors to the café jingle as he pushes open the door. There's two people at the cashier now; the bloke from before and a girl about the same age, both of them chatting softly. They looked up as the door opened and Harry almost cringed because he's afraid that the girl's a massive fan and was about to start squealing, but the both of them just smiled at him in acknowledgement before turning back to their hushed conversations – their palms lined up against each other as their fingers interlocked, mindlessly playing with the other's fingers as they talked. The sight made Harry bite back a smile. He always liked watching couples interact. Even if they weren't together, it was still nice to see. There's just something about being in love or simply observing two people in love. Makes him feel all warm and fuzzy inside – no matter how girly that makes him out to be.

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7/12/13

guilty pleasures... i don't know. i guess i don't really have them. it's like you said/wrote. why should i be guilty of liking something that i like? my mate that's into the same music that i am (the post-hardcore/rock/pop punk/bands that don't get radio play) gave me shit for having justin bieber in my phone. fuck him, though. justin bieber may be a pretty shit person (according to the things i've seen on the internet but i'm not judging because i don't know the full story and stuff) but he still makes good music.

i tend to put 'fall' on full blast and dance around my flat like i can actually dance, when i really, really can't.

but guilty pleasures though... i can only think of one thing. i reckon it's a pretty weird thing to like but idk. fan fictions. which is funny because most of the time i don't know which celebrity i'm even reading about because i just pretend they're all made up characters. there are so many brilliant and talented writers on the internet, writing the best stories with amazing plot lines and things, but they're in a fan fiction context. i mean, i guess the fans like it because it's involving their idols and most of the stories are in first person and stuff but i pretend they're normal teen fiction novels.

some of them are really good. like, proper good. i reckon they could get published if the names are changed and the little bits of info about the person they're writing about is changed to fit a non-fan fiction format type thing, you know? nah, you probably don't, because you've probably never heard of fan fiction.

trust me, mate, i was really fucking confused when i first stumbled across it. thought they were true stories at first – like fans recalling what happened when they met their idols. was a bit confused as to why these things were literally chapters long but i figured it out in the end. they're all massively talented writers, really. the smut between the gay fics that i might read, though, that i can do without.

and if you don't know what smut is do not look it up.

trust me. unless you've got a good imagination and can get off from just reading gay porn scenes (because that's basically what smut is??) then... be my guest and look it up?

changing the subject bc this is starting to get weird... how was your trip to wherever you went to? was it a well-needed weekend getaway? with a partner? ;) jesus i wonder how you'd explain this thing if they saw you writing in it and leaving it in a tree hollow in a random park. might think you're proper insane. thanks for doing this, though. the fact that you're actually 'committing' to it makes me feel all warm and fuzzy inside. i'd put the emoji of the little monkey here – the one where its covering its eyes – but this isn't text talk so...

so out of curiosity (and we're also supposed to be making friends and friends are sort of entitled to ask these sort of things) (maybe not) (it's kind of a weird question to ask a mate)

have you ever been in love?

– stranger x

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Harry feels his lips curl up at the edges as he reads through the entry. It's almost as if she's actually right there and talking to him, only the voice in his head is his own because he can't pick a random girl's voice and place it to this person's. Then he realises that he's in a public place and he must've looked properly insane to be smiling (almost chuckling) at a book – let alone a journal – so he bites down on his bottom lip; eyes darting up self-consciously, to make sure that no one's staring at him like he's gone mental and also to make sure that there's no paparazzi ready to attack him at one of the few places he feels completely comfortable and at home at.

He picks up the pen he brought from home – yeah, he was prepared this time – and nibbles on the top of it as he ponders over her question. Has he ever been in love? He thinks it's kind of sad but he's nineteen, almost twenty, and he hasn't been in love. Deep infatuation, yeah. Love? He didn't even know what love was.

He loves his mum, his dad, his sister, his step-dad, his mates, his pets. He loves the fans. He loves many things, but he's not in love with anyone and he reckons he never has been properly in love before. He has probably said it to a girlfriend before, but that was more than likely just because she said it first and he thought he was in love.

He was a kid. He still is.

Bit sad, now that he thinks about it. He hasn't ever been in love. Properly in love. But one can't really blame him, in all honesty. He's in a world famous boy band that's gone touring for nine months out of the twelve in a year. It's hard enough to get a girlfriend but add in the fact that he's well-known and gone basically all the time? It's near impossible. To him, at least, since he'd never been good at getting girls in the first place.

Harry blows out a breath between his lips – top vibrating against the bottom as he does so – before he's positioning the top of his pen above the page as he turns it. Instead of seeing a blank page, he sees another entry.

·

it feels as though i've come to a place that i never thought i'd have to come to. and i don't know how i got here. it's a strange place and i'm scared. i'm so scared. it's a place where a little harmless dreaming and sleepy, early-morning talk has led me into considerations of death and annihilations. it's a place where my thoughts, no matter what, would come back to how i'm a shit person and i'll never amount to anything. how probably nothing would change if i died right then. i think about death far too often. people think about death, too, but i think about it far too often for it to be considered normal. i don't think about killing myself, because what good would that come to? they're just thoughts... like... what if, while i'm on the roof, i jump? what if i cross the road at the exact moment a massive truck is driving down? what if i drink a little too much? what if, what if, what if.

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The thing that's got Harry freezing isn't how the girl who has written the entry basically had a mental breakdown and broke down by writing. No, the thing that's got him freezing is the fact that he can still see the faint marks of wet spots on the paper, crease marks from how her hand was probably shaking as she wrote, the bottom corner of the page lined with blood, as were there very faint bits of blood on the paper – like she'd gotten a paper cut from being so frustrated that she hadn't even noticed the cut or the stain on the paper it was leaving.

It's almost as if she wrote it and then placed it into the tree hollow, maybe only minutes before Harry came to collect it. It's like she's calling for help, but she doesn't want to physically do so. Talk to someone. Cry to someone. Instead keeps her emotions bottled up, telling everyone she's fine when really she's anything but.

Maybe... Maybe Harry isn't the only one who has become attached to this letter exchanging, journal writing thing. Maybe this is as much of an escape from reality to her, as it is for him.