pages- harry styles (au)

seventeen

(I had a burst of encouragement from a friend today, so I am no longer deleting, and I am continuing with the story till the end)

The familiarity of the room when I woke up was comforting, unlike the couch that I had woken up on. The faint smell of Harry's cologne, which I had become very acquainted with, lingered on the blanket on top of me. He wasn't awake yet, as I could tell from the constant, unchanging pace of breath coming from the room behind me. I basked in the sounds of the early New York morning, horns honking, cars whisping by, shouts erupting from the streets below. It was all comforting.

I sat up, and walked over to the window, looking down. The window was my favorite part of Harry's apartment. It was like a seat, he had it all fitted with cushions and blankets and it made you want to cuddle up with a good book, a cup of coffee and read. I stared out the window a little longer, until I decided to go find a book.

Harrys book shelf wasn't very vast, but it was amazing. He once told me that he only kept the books that made him feel. I was confused as to what he meant by that, so I asked him.

"When Abby was taken, killed, whatever you want to say, I didn't feel anything. Sure, the emotion of it was there, but I was blank. I cried, but I cried with no feeling. Then one day, I read, just because there was a book sitting on my dresser that my mom bought me, and I felt, for the first time in a really long time. I had no idea why this stupid book made me feel something, but it did. Ever since then I only kept the books that made me feel, if they made me laugh, or cry, or smile, I kept them."

I scanned the small shelf for something worth reading, all the titles I had read before, and then I stopped. My eyes landed on a familiar book, leather bound with a small carving of a broken heart in it, and my heart stopped. I snached the book from the shelf, feeling as if I had found my lost child, and walked over to the window and opened it.

"January 12th, 2014

Dear Abby,

I'm terribly sorry I haven't written in almost a year, it's not my fault. My journal was stolen. I know I could've bought a new journal and written to you that way, but it just didn't feel the same. It was completely coincidental how I found your journal, or maybe it was fate, I don't know. Anyway, there was this girl sitting in the cafe I work at on campus, and she was reading it, just sitting there reading it. And so, I went up to her and just grabbed it from her, she hesitated a bit before reacting, and then she grabbed it back. It seemed as it recognition flashed across her face because she let me take it back, she nearly handed it to me. It was strange, as I walked away, I swore I heard her whisper my name. So now, here I am, finally writing to you after nearly a year. I think maybe I should start off with how I am. Well, I am fine, better I guess, not necessarily fine. I think about you often still, (I hope you didn't think I forgot about you), I'm doing well in class, the second semester just started, so I have a fresh start. Um, I still have the same job at the cafe, I've made a few friends, blah, blah blah. Really, there is nothing worth telling you. Oh, Charlotte got married, well, mom to you, I went to the wedding. It was a lovely wedding, there was a little memorial to you and yeah. Anyway, uh, bye until next time I guess.

Xoxo, Harry."

"February 3rd, 2014.

So, I had to make a quick trip home this week, Grandpa passed away (my grandpa silly), and mum insisted I fly all the way home to go to his funeral, it was a lovely trip. I visited your grave, you probably already know that though. Everyone seems to have forgotten about what happened to you, because everyone loved me again. When I got back home though, I was met with a great surprise. Remember that girl who "stole" my journal? Yeah, well she's in my writing class, and yesterday, we were paired together for a "biography" project, which basically means we will be spending a lot of time together, and I am not happy about it. She's so strange, (Oh her name is Emma by the way, how cliche) she stared at me all through class, and then at the end of the class I tripped her, not on purpose of course, but I pretended I did. It was so funny to see her face redden when she realized it was me who tripped her, she then yelled at me, practically begging for an apology, and I just walked off without helping her. She didn't seem to like that idea though, as she chased after me. She grabbed my arm and began telling me off, then she stopped, just stopped. I urged her to go on, but she just kept staring at me, probably noticing how beautiful I was or something. She asked why I tripped her, and I told her it was an accident, because it was. She didn't buy it though, so I had to tell her that I did it on purpose because I didn't like her. I mean I don't like her, I wasn't lying about that. She asked so many questions, my head started to hurt, she asked me why I didn't like her, wasn't it obvious? I mean she was pretty, but my initial impression of her was bad. I decided to play with her a little more, making her seem like a criminal for stealing my journal, she claimed it was given to her though, but It didn't seem right. Then I walked away, leaving her there with all her books still spilled on the floor. I know it's rude, but I don't like her.

Then today, I sat in the seat next to hers, which probably confused her even more, do you think it was mean to play with her like that? Anyway, sorry for talking so much about this girl and nothing else, I just thought you would like to know.

Xoxo, Harry"

"February 9th, 2014,

Dear Abby,

Emma came over today, basically we played twenty questions, it was so elementary. I feel so stupid though, I totally blew up at her. She asked me how old I was and I told her I was 21, and then she commented and said I was legal. I started freaking out, it sounded like she was saying it in a way that I underage drink, which reminded me of what happened to you, and I think I ruined everything. She rushed over to comfort me, and she apologized. We stayed silent for a while, then we continued on with our twenty questions. We then shared a pizza, and honestly, I felt like she's my first real friend here. I also feel completely idiotic for not liking her, because I do, I really like her. She told me exactly what happened, and how she came across the journal. I think it's fate. Anyway, I miss you a lot. I will write again as soon as something write-worthy comes along.

Xoxo, Daddy"

The familiar feelings that would strike me when I usually read the journal didn't hit me quite the same. I wasn't sad, I was relieved. Relieved that Harry didn't really hate me that whole time, relieved that he liked me, relieved that he kept writing.

"Emma, again, really?" Harry said groggily, walking over to me and staring at the journal in my hand. "What are you doing with this?"

He sounded irritated, probably because I was the biggest snoop in the world and he probably wanted to kick me out by now.

"I'm sorry, it was just there and I-I, I couldn't help it, I'm so attached to that journal, I had to finish it and re-"

Harry cut my rambling short by leaning down and pressing his plump lips on mine. It was crazy how natural it all happened, how our lips fit into two like a puzzle piece. Butterflies erupted in my stomach, as Harry pulled away. We were locked in a trance after that, just staring at each other.

This was exactly how I had pictured it. And it was perfect.

(three chapters left WTF)