Hello Stranger

·
8/12/13

good on you – the whole 'fuck him' thing. you don't need people like that in your life. who's he to tell you what's wrong and right? (even if this is only referring to the music you're listening to) listen to the biebs all you want, dance to your heart's content even if you can't dance for shit. why should you deny yourself that simple action if it makes you happy – even if just by a little, you know?

anyway. fan fiction, eh?

can't say i've read any. i've heard of them. a close mate of mine stumbled across some when he was scrolling thru tumblr. don't think he read it tho. said it looks scary. the way you're illustrating it kind of makes me want to read one, but i'm kinda scared, not gonna lie hahaha

and my weekend away was good, thanks for asking. definitely a much needed weekend getaway. went to see my family back home. (i'm not born/bred in london, in case you haven't picked up on that) i went alone, though. haven't got a partner. survived a long drive by myself, singing obnoxiously to loud music and dancing in my seat whenever there was traffic. i reckon if anyone saw me, they'd put me in a mental institution.

have i ever been in love...... i don't even know.

i want to say yes but i think i'd be lying. i just... haven't found the right girl. my mum reckons i might be gay because of how tight my jeans are. (they look tighter than they are, promise, and they make my legs look good) (... i've just realised how that isn't convincing anyone that i'm not gay. i'm not gay, though. i like girls. very sure about that)

i've had girlfriends though and like i've said 'i love you' to them but i don't think i really ever meant it? like i only said it because they said it first? and i didn't want them to feel bad?

and if this makes you think i'm a prick then i should point out that they're the ones that broke up with me in the end so i didn't lead them on or whatever. bit sad, really, how i've been the dumped for most of my relationships. meh. hashtag life. you feel me?

my turnnnnnn. what's your favourite song? :)

– stranger x

·

Harry isn't even going to lie (even though there's no one to lie to except for himself) but his heart breaks every time he rereads the second entry she'd put in. He had a strong feeling that she was going to take the journal back, maybe an hour or two after she'd put it there. Meaning, if Harry hadn't come when he had, the paper would've most likely been torn out and he would've been wondering and wondering what the contents of that page was.

In a way, he was kind of happy that he had taken the journal before she did. It wasn't that he liked her pain, oh hell no. It was like... A proper friendship. Before, it kind of felt like a project (because that's what it was and still is) but now, she'd actually kind of opened up to him. She'd been exposed at her most vulnerable state and Harry was there – reading part of it. That couldn't have been all. He knew there was more, so much more, pent up inside her and dying to be let out – but she just didn't want to open up and tell them to anyone else.

And he wanted to ask about it in his entry back. He really did. It took almost everything in him to not ask about it. Ask if she was okay. Ask if they could actually meet up so that he could just pull her into his arms and cuddle her because sometimes that was all anyone ever really needed. Every kid's worst nightmare was being told that they needed to get professional help when all they really needed was a hug and for someone to tell them that eventually, things would be okay. Maybe that was why she was so closed off. With thoughts that she'd revealed in the second entry, it made sense to him that if she told anyone else, they might be worried that she was turning suicidal and send her to therapy.

But Harry kept his questions to himself. Kept his desperate want to meet up with her – not to find out what she looked like but to just make sure she was okay and that she would be okay and then give her a hug and protect her from everything. It was strange, honestly. The girl he was writing to and wanting to protect was literally a stranger. He knew next to nothing about her but he was already so attached that it proper freaked him out.

He shook his head, picking up the journal and stuffing it into his large coat pocket. With a nod towards the two still behind the counter – though they're both using their phones now – he leaves the café. Harry's about to walk across, to the park, to put the journal back in the tree hollow, but he's stopped by two teenage girls who were walking past the park just as he was about to walk to the tree. He immediately dismisses the thought of putting the journal in the tree hollow because he knows that someone will see him do that and then proceed to take the journal for their own selfish reasons.

Harry goes to greet the girls with charming grins then, asking them about their day and happily obliging to taking photos on their phones and signing things. Only, that leads to more people noticing who he is and then a small crowd has formed around him, all calling out his name as he struggles to keep his cool to sign and take pictures with as many fans as possible.

It's not that he doesn't love the fans – God, no. He loves them. Really. It's just a bit... Overwhelming. All he wanted to do was write back, put the journal back where his stranger could find it and then reply to it, and then they'd continue their thing. That obviously can't happen, unless he wants nosy paps and/or fans taking it. He definitely does not want that.

So he signs and he smiles and he makes polite conversation till his cheeks hurt and he knows that he's really got to get back home before one of his bodyguards is calling him up and scolding him for not calling one of them the moment the little crowd formed. With apologetic eyes and a dimpled grin, he tells them that he has to go and they all groan and whine and Harry almost wants to frown because this is his free time and he isn't even obligated to be signing their things and taking pictures but he still does because he knows that they'd be nowhere without the fans.

His facial expression remains with a smile as he finally gets away from the group of girls, one or two of which were polite enough to thank him for his time and apologise for taking up so much of his time. Fans like those were the ones that made everything worth it, because they realised that the One Direction boys were human beings.

It's literally two whole hours later that Harry realises he's lost his phone. He hadn't had a need to check it whilst he was on the way home, and then when he was home, he'd turned on the radio – so he wasn't using his phone's playlist. In the current moment, at half ten at night, he's shoving his hands down between the sofa cushions and lifting up magazines and newspapers, in hopes of finding his mobile.

"Fuck my life," Harry mutters to himself as he realises that there's only one place the phone could be.

He knows that the café closes around ten, but he's hoping and praying that they're open late today. Don't know why they'd still be open, but he's really just trying to be optimistic because his phone is really important with tons of important information in there and he doesn't want to face a lecture about being irresponsible for losing it.

Harry rushes out of his flat and practically sprints towards the café. He's sprinting because one: he wants to get there while there might still be people in there and two: it's pouring rain and he, like the absolute genius he is, forgot to grab an umbrella in his haste. He reaches there in under five minutes, which is remarkable since it's a ten, maybe fifteen minute stroll away from his flat. But then again, he was sprinting.

He uses his hands to shield his eyes from the rain as he peers inside. The inside is dark and it's clearly closed, and he's almost about to head back to his complex when he notices a small light coming from the back of the café. He knocks on the glass doors then, harder than normal because whoever's in there would probably not hear him.

A shadow is seen before the figure is walking up to the door and he realises that it's the bloke from before. He raises a brow and Harry brings his hand to his ear, silently telling him through the glass that he's looking for his phone. The bloke's eyes widen in realisation before he's unlocking the doors and gesturing for him to come in.

"Thanks, mate," Harry grins as he runs his fingers through his wet hair. "Have you seen it, though? My mobile?"

"Yeah," the bloke nods. "We were hoping you'd come back tomorrow or something; but at least you noticed it was gone. Eventually."

"Eventually," he repeats with a laugh. The bloke hands him the iPhone and Harry is almost tempted to pull him into a hug but he holds himself back because it's probably not appropriate to do that. Especially while he's soaked from the rain. "Thanks, again."

"Hey, s'no problem," he responds with a friendly smile. "Um, you wanna hide out here till the rain subsides?" He offers, his eyes darting out to where the rain is still coming down strong.

Harry, too, directs his eyes to outside the window, but he shakes his head politely. "S'alright. I know you're closed. I just came for this," he gestures to the iPhone.

"At least take this, then," a girl speaks up then and Harry turns to see the girl from before, the one working with the bloke. She's holding an umbrella out to him, a teasing smile on her lips, "You can say that you like walking in the rain, or whatever, but the weather's too ridiculous for you to be walking back home or to the bus stop. The bus stop is not near, so you can't say that it is, either."

Harry laughs lightly, "Thanks." He says, taking the offered umbrella. "Um, thanks, again, for the phone. And the umbrella. I'll get it back to you tomorrow, or the day after."

"There's no rush," the bloke reassures him. "My parents own this place. We've got way more umbrellas than we need."

"He's not joking. They're a family of four but they've literally got seven umbrellas. Now. That's the eighth one," the girl nods over at the umbrella in his hands.

He laughs again, shaking his head in amusement. "I'll give it back," he promises. "Thanks, again."

"You've thanked us like ten times already, mate."

Harry chortles, "Right. I'd best be off then. Goodnight," he grins and the two grin back; the bloke following him to the door so that he can lock it afterwards. Harry offers them a wave with one hand before he's on his way – the umbrella protecting him from the rain this time.

It's just past two in the morning when Harry realises that he can't sleep because his mind won't shut up. He's overthinking everything, overanalysing everything and thinking about every little bad thing he's ever done. His thoughts are suffocating him and there's nothing he can do to stop it.

He throws off the duvet, the cool air hitting his nearly nude body as he swings his legs off the bed and let his feet hit the hardwood flooring. He uses his palms to rub at his eyes before he's heaving a sigh, wondering why he can't seem to stop thinking. He flicks on the bedside lamp and the first thing his eyes land on is the journal – sitting there, right beside his mobile. He picks it up, thumbing the leather binding before he decides, you know what? Writing might help.

·

i feel so alone, so lonely, but i know i'm not alone. i know i've got people that care for me. i know that i've got people who would be willing to stay up till late hours just to make sure i'm okay. i have friends. i have lots of friends. i have four best friends. brothers. but what messes me up the most is that i don't have that one friend that i can go to for everything. the one i can call up at three in the morning, knowing that they'd be awake because they're night owls, like i used to be. it's rare for me to be awake past one a.m. now, if i'm at home, because work's tiring and my body has adjusted to waking up really fucking early almost every day. seems like work's taken over my life and i hate it but i love it, but i hate it. is it possible to hate something as much as you love it? because that's how i'm feeling right now. i just feel so lonely and i feel so sorry for myself and i want to stop because i know that i'm well off and there's so many other people with so much more problems plaguing them but i can't stop feeling sorry for my shitty self and i don't know why. it's like i'm in a room and there's so many people, but i feel like i'm the only one in there. it's a tug at my heart, a pain in my chest, an endless throb in my brain.

life is loneliness. despite all the grins i can pull on, despite all the parties that i attend. i'll still feel alone till the day i find someone that can ease this loneliness inside of me. someone i can take care of, put their needs before my own, make them a cup of tea, worry about them. someone who'll fill this empty void inside of me that's making me feel like i'm the only person around. there is a loneliness in this world that is so great that you can see it in the slow movements of the hand on a clock.

"but even so – every now and then i feel a stab of loneliness. the very water i drink, the very air i breathe, would feel like long, sharp needles. the pages of a book in my hands would take on the threatening metallic gleam of razor heads. i can hear the roots of loneliness creeping through me when the world was hushed at four o'clock in the morning." – haruki murakami

tell me. someone please tell me. i don't want to feel so lonely anymore. i don't like this. i don't like it at all. HOW DO I STOP FEELING LIKE THIS

·