Harry Styles imagines

22 - Exam stress

I tug at the roots of my hair, my eyes scanning the mass amounts of textbooks and notes scattered around me. I can't do this. I hate exams, I mean, is there even anyone who actually likes them?

If I don't already have enough piled on my shoulders, it doesn't help having teachers nag down my ears how badly I'm doing when really, I'm trying my absolute best. Not everyone is a natural at dividing x by 72! I hate school, it'll be over soon but I'd rather be back in cringy old year 7. Things were so much more simpler.

I don't know how Harry copes. He's already had two exams and I've been skipping school so that I can study, and I mean actually studying. It's like Harry is a robot, getting 92 percent whilst I'm stuck barely able to get above 50. It's horrible, why do examiners let such young people go though such horrible times?

After breathing in and out heavily, trying to calm myself for the day that is approaching tomorrow, I give up. I pick up my text book, throwing it angrily across the room with a scream. I rip up a piece of paper I began making notes on, tearing it to shreds on my bedroom floor. I don't go any further, knowing that I'll just end up regretting it in ten minutes time.

"Y/N?" Mum calls in from her bedroom. I lift my head, starring at my closed bedroom door. "Everything okay?" She asks, concern in her voice.

"I'm great mum, just fucking great." I mumble under my breath so only I can hear. She doesn't understand, I feel like nobody does. Even the people such as Harry who will be sitting the exact same examination papers I feel doesn't understand. He doesn't get it because he's smart, he knows how to do the work we've spent years practicing.

Being told you're stupid is nothing compared to telling yourself that you're stupid. I can't do the things I've been taught! I listened, made notes, so how am I still failing? How have I not yet passed? All of these questions I was too afraid to ask six months ago when the teachers told us we could. Of course I never took that opportunity to speak up.

Now, I'm a mess who's actually considering not turning up at 9am tomorrow morning.

I pick up my phone, locking my door so that mum doesn't walk in to see me looking like such a mess. I dial Harry's number, knowing he won't be studying because he already has the knowledge he needs to pass. Sometimes I wish I could just copy the things he knows and paste them into my own brain. That'd be so much easier, and a lot less worrying.

"Y/N?" Harry speaks into the phone, his raspy voice sounding like he's just woken up. That's how prepared he is. He even has time to nap in the afternoon whilst I'm cramming as much knowledge into my brain as possible, even if it isn't going in!

I inhale, calming myself before even beginning to become worked up. I don't want to worry Harry, only talk to him and possibly ask him to come over. "Hi Harry," I say timidly into the phone.

"Everything alright?" He questions, a small chuckle ringing in my ear.

I close my eyes, taking another deep breath before breathing out heavily again. "Yeah. Could you just...could you come over for a bit?" I ask, trying not to sound too pleading for his comfort and presence.

"Uh...sure." He says as if checking something. "I'll be round in five, are you sure everything is okay though?"

"Yes! Promise." I smile even though he can't see me.

"Alright Y/N, I'll be over soon." And with that, Harry ends the call.

I bring the phone slowly away from my ear, admiring silently how amazing Harry is as my boyfriend. I don't even need a reason and he happily agrees to come over. He could've just continued with his nap, assuming everything is okay with me. I stare down at the phone for a few moments sitting in my shaking hands, feeling the tears building and building up.