Dear Harry (Harry Styles Fanfic)

Ch.10

Dear Harry,

Today, while I was cleaning out our closet, I spotted something that I hadn't seen in years. It was a box that I had kept since I was eight or nine, filled with dozens and dozens of artifacts- all representing a part of my life. As I sifted through it, I found a bunch of different things- photographs, movie ticket stubs, old report cards. But at the bottom of the box, there was something I had totally forgotten about, and just looking at them made memories come to the surface. The tens- maybe even hundreds- of crumpled pieces of paper brought a smile to my lips, happy recollections filling my mind.

In eleventh grade, when we were officially going out, everything was pretty much perfect. You stood outside my classes everyday, waiting until I was dismissed. I loved that you held my hand as we walked through the crowded hallways, not at all embarrassed that I was the one you were associated with. I loved that although there were so many beautiful girls that surrounded you, I was the only one you wanted to look at. I loved that you picked me up and dropped me off at each and every one of my classes, not caring that you would be late for yours. I loved that finally, after all these years of waiting, my dreams of having you came true.

Perhaps the thing I loved most was my math class- the only class we had together. We sat at the opposite sides of the room from each other, but I figured being in your presence was better than enough. When I was about to fall asleep due to the boring lesson about different algebraic functions, all I had to do was look across the room at you. You always had a big goofy smile on your face when I looked at you, happy that you could finally take your mind off of math. Instead, you would distort your face, trying to make me laugh. Admittedly, a lot of times it worked, and the entire class would turn and stare at the girl who randomly broke into giggles. I would always try to get back at you, mushing my features into the most unattractive face I could. Of course, other people would see and give us dirty looks, but I didn't care about them; you were the only one that mattered to me. 

Later in the year, we became desperate to find a better way of communication. You soon realized that my seat was right next to the tissue box and trash can by the side of the room- making me the perfect candidate to pass notes to. Multiple times a day, you would get up from your seat and walk over to me, subtly placing a folded note in my hands before grabbing a tissue and stalking back to your seat. You didn't care how silly you looked getting up to use a tissue six times in the span of fifteen minutes, you were determined to hand me the little note, and nothing could stop you. 

I saved the majority of the notes you gave me, and started a secret collection in the back of my closet. Reading them now, I realize that you didn't write anything twice. Each note was so different, and each note was so sincere. Whether it said something sweet like, "You look lovely today," or something flirtatiously stupid like, "Are you a parking ticket? Because you've got FINE written all over you," it could always make me smile. 

As the year past by, the note-passing became almost too obvious to the class. Each time you handed me the small slip of paper, my eyes would flick to our teacher, Mrs.Beasley, and sometimes she would be staring right back at me. I always cringed inside, scared that she would assume we were cheating and make a big fuss in the middle of class. What a wicked lady she was- so horrible that her students referred to her as The Beast- and yet, not once did she attempt to put an end to our exchanges. I have a strong suspicion that your charms and annoyingly good looks developed the soft spot she had for you. In fact, when she changed our seats in the middle of the year, she placed you and me right next to each other. Before then, I had hated her and every condescending molecule in her body, but after experiencing how great it was to sit next to my boyfriend for a fifty minute class period, I grew a strong liking for her.

Sitting next to you everyday was like heaven on earth. Instead of paying attention to the lesson, my mind was completely on you. We were always entertained, whether it be by the endless rounds of staring contests, or the short lived games of arm wrestling, which you won every single time, except the rare occasions when you let me beat you. Another favorite of mine was when you would relentlessly tickle me, trying to make me laugh, and ultimately make a fool out of myself. It seemed as if we were always pestering each other, always needing to have the attention of the other, because that's what was normal for us; that's what made us happy.

Despite all of the silly and immature things we did, there was another daily occurrence that was extremely special to me. Every day, when I'd least expect it, you would take my hand and connect it with yours. We made sure to keep our hands under the table so no one could see- we weren't embarrassed that we were holding hands, it was just so special that we wanted it to stay between us. I loved the feeling of your large fingers wrapped around my small ones; I felt so protected when I was with you, as if it we were in this together. Ella and Harry versus the world. 

I remember this one time when we had a math quiz, I finished before anyone else in the class. After handing in my paper, I sat back down, and looked at you, who was still working on the quiz. I began studying your features for quite a while, as if it wasn't the millionth time I had done so. I found it so endearing that when you were concentrated, you bit your bottom lip and knitted your two eyebrows together. After watching you for a good five minutes, your eyes suddenly glanced up at me, as if confirming that you knew what I was doing all along. My cheeks inflamed in embarrassment, and my gaze shifted to a different part of the room, and happened to land right on Mrs.Beasley. Before I looked away, I noticed she had this smug grin on her face, and she gave me the slightest nod, as if she knew that you and I weren't just some high school fling. She knew that we were much more. She knew that we were forever.

I could write about all of our memories for hours, but it is getting late and I should probably get some rest. I miss you so much, Harry, and I am thinking about you every second of the day. Be safe.

With so much love,

Ella Wella

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