From The Dining Table [H.S]

The Stories Behind His Letters

'Just let me know, I'll be out the door, out the door...' the music blared; my favourite part of the song. 'Just let me know I'll be on the floor, on the floor...' I project alongside Harry, not caring how my voice sounded. '...maybe we'll work it out.'

The sun perched just above my knee, glowing so effortlessly into the evening sky, unknowingly bringing light to the entire world. Sitting up, I bought my disposable camera from my bag to my eye, taking a few seconds to get the angle just right.

*click*

I'd bought this camera in a petrol station one day when I was driving home from Harry's. I admired the purity behind his voice as he explained to me why he used the camera - it's a small thing I've held close to my heart since hearing it in Jamacia.

"Do you always carry a camera around?" I question, while beginning to walk back to our seats. Harry follows, his face still sad.

"Yeah, yeah I do. I used to always take them with me on holidays as a kid, and it's just something I've bought into my adult life." He tells me, while positioning himself on his chair.

"It's nice to remember things."

I want to be more like him. He has the entire world in his hands: thousands of people taking images and documenting his every move. And yet, he still takes times to capture special moments and memories in a photograph. An image all to himself, that the world will never see. It's like my letters - nobody's seen them. Angel's seen a few but nothing compared to the hundreds I have under my coffee table. Harry doesn't know I have this camera, but I can only imagine the excitement in his voice when he sees me with it. One evening, we sat for hours scrolling through my camera roll, me explaining what happened in each photo, and him leaning on my arm in complete focus. He tells me to take more photos, because my camera roll is 'too small.' One thousand pictures isn't exactly a lot, but, that's why I bought this camera.

If Harry gets to write me letters, then I get to take photographs for him.

Harry's POV:
28th September
New York City

"Harry!" Jeff yelled from the other side of my dressing room. "We need you ready to go on stage in 20 minutes." He tells me.

I was sat on the sofa, my feet resting on the edge of the sofa, my knees up with my pad resting on them. Tonight, I was in New York - the big apple - performing in Radio City Music Hall. It always looked so beautiful at night: the luminescent lights from the iconic sign flooding onto the streets. Seeing my name written in those lights was always a dream of mine. It was such a surreal experience to drive past that earlier:

Tonight Harry Styles Live On Tour Sold Out

I had to pinch myself to make sure I wasn't dreaming. Nobody shared their excitement with me as much as they did everyone else. Jeffrey wasn't phased in the slightest, Mitch and Sarah were in awe together, and then there was just me. I've tried so hard over the last week to not let myself get upset about Primrose, and how she isn't here. And, I'd done quite well... up until then.

Watching Mitch and Sarah lock their arms together, both gazing up at the lights with the shared expression of excitement, reminded me that I could've also been doing that, with the girl I love. Primrose would've loved it here. I would've loved it if she was here.

"I'll be out in a minute." I shout back, looking up from my pad to the door.

My eyebrows furrowed as I gazed down onto the blank piece of paper, thinking about what to write Primrose. I haven't written here in a few days, mainly because I don't want to. If I write her every evening, by November I won't have anything left to say. Limits, Harry. Limits.