Only His Journal Knows // h.s.

Only His Journal Knows (A Harry Styles Fanfiction)

Chapter One: Katy's Point of View

I don't know what force drove me to the Times Square park that morning, but if I would have known how it would've ended, I might not have gone.

It was a Thursday. The 23rd of November. The day before my 20th birthday. I remember my alarm clock ringing obnoxiously loud through my silent apartment.

I turned my alarm off and sat up in bed. The first thing I thought was that my teeth were hurting.

I stood up and shuffled over to the kitchen area, where I got a glass of water and grabbed the 3 pills I needed to take. I had gotten my wisdom teeth out yesterday and my mouth was swollen and in pain. Last night the bleeding had finally stopped so I didn't have to put any gauze in it anymore, which had me feeling relieved.

After taking my pills and checking the sheet of paper the surgeons had given me, I saw that I could have smoothies as a healthy and tasty food. I decided I would go out and get a smoothie from the little shop up the block.

I tied my messy curly hair up in a ponytail and put on a pair of jeans and a comfortable t-shirt. I applied mascara and then slipped on some shoes and a warm jacket. Quickly I made sure I had money in my wallet before I got the keys to my apartment and left it in to sit in its normal silent state.

Normally I would hum a tune as I went down the hall and down the elevator, but considering that my whole mouth felt like it had been thrown in a washing machine and then set on fire, I decided against it.

Twenty minutes later I was paying for my strawberry-mango smoothie and pocketing the change. Instead of staying in the shop and eating, my feet carried me out the door and down the bustling street.

Ahead of me a few blocks was Times Square park and as I scooped a spoonful of smoothie into my mouth I led myself there.

Walking through the trees a bit, I sat down on a bench and got to work on my smoothie. It tasted amazing in my still swollen mouth. Finally the pain meds were kicking in and I was feeling better. The throbbing at the back of mouth was finally going away.

I paused and tiredly rubbed my eyes, probably smearing my mascara. I carelessly shrugged to myself and that's when I saw it: a brown vintage-looking journal. The outside had been written and doodled on with black permanent marker.

It was just sitting there. I looked around to try and identify an owner of it. Hardly anyone was around, which was surprising. Just a few joggers and homeless people.

My curiosity got the best of me, and I pulled it into my hands. I removed the strap that held it shut and opened the journal.

This journal belongs to:

I squinted at the words below but it was scribbled out. There were some side notes that I eagerly read:

The owner of this journal's name (my name) is not stated because I have decided the things written in here are too personal to be shared with my name labeled on it.

Well this just got interesting.

I carry this book with me wherever I go. People constantly ask what the contents are, even my best mates. I just tell everyone it's song lyrics: some stuff I have heard, some stuff I have wrote. Some people care enough to ask if they can read it. I always say no. If this book got into the wrong hands my life would be ruined.So if this book as been lost, and you are reading this now, I ask of you to please, please, not share this with anyone. Especially if you find out who I am.

Okay, that escalated quickly. This was very mysterious and interesting. My kind of thing. Usually I read those murder mystery books that were very predictable. This, on the other hand, didn't seem very predictable.