the journal - h.s.

15

[harry’s pov]

Watching how the smoke escaped from my lips and into the air in front of me, I turned my attention back to Zayn. I kept the forced smile plastered on my face, as he finally told me he had to go get some water. He had been coughing the entire time while trying to get me to small talk - ending with offering me his smoke. But I hadn’t cared much for being social right now - at least not having the strength to give it a try.

And I, who hadn’t thought it could possibly get any worse this week - but no. Of course I had forgotten Jenny was throwing one of her tiny gatherings, which usually lasted till past four in the morning. Just fucking perfect.

I was leaning against the door frame to the living room watching Zayn get up from the couch. Jenny who had been sitting next to him flashed me a smile, “what’s up Styles.”

I liked Jenny. As a friend. She was one of those persons who knew when to talk to me - and when not to.

I shrugged longing to simply throw myself on my bed in the next room and forget about this crap week. It had literally been hell. Not only because of the constant stream of those interviews, photos even commercial all over the place with him. No of course a lot of other crap had to happen this exact week as well just to make it a fucking pinch more excruciating to go through. I seated on the arm of the couch throwing the finished cigarette in the ashtray. Merely the thought of him made my veins burn with a wicked form of anger. As I watched the spark from the cigarette slowly dying, I forced my thoughts to do the same - I pushed them to the back of my fucked up mind.

“So did you find it?” Jenny’s wild red hair was all over the place as she licked the edge of the shot glass. She wasn’t looking over at me. Her attention was on some guy at the window, so I stated a simple ‘no’.

“Crap. You know I was actually with one of them who had that following shift after mine last Monday. She taught me to make latte art! I swear to you I’m a fucking pro. Anyway I forgot to ask her - but actually she’s,” Jenny started her words coming out mumbled and hard to understand. God she was wasted. I interrupted her mid sentence, “it doesn’t matter. I’m going to bed.” There was no way I was going to stay here when I was deadly sober.

And with that I got up from my seat and left a smirking Jenny on the couch who was sticking her tongue at me. The others in there laughing softly at her childish action as she yelled, “sleep tight you miserable motherfucker!”

And I couldn’t help smiling into the dark as well - if there was one person who could manage to make me smile it was her. With her uncontrollable use of swear words and that hair color, which was almost painful to look at for too long.

I pushed the door open to my room and was for a moment totally stunned by the view that met me.

It was her standing in my room. With her chestnut colored shoulder length hair and slightly slanting bangs, which had obviously been badly cut. The girl with the numb green eyes and an attitude that shrieked that she didn’t give shit for anyone or anything. At least that had been my first impression. I clearly remembered how she had been sitting there in the ugly plastic seat - staring out into the darkness as if the small lights held endless whispered fairytales she could escape in.

It had taken almost a week of constant dreaming to see her again, and now I didn't even know how to react. What the fuck was she doing here? For a moment I was unsure whether I was actually drunk or finally just going insane. I blinked hard. She was still there. Standing innocently in my room - still unaware of my presence.

Then my eyes travelled to the object holding her interest and I felt an unexplainable feeling of dread build up inside me. Eyes widened. I felt like I was going to be sick. The brown leather cover looked the same, but I knew it was scarred with somebody else's fingerprints now. Hers. As she held my journal in her delicate fair hands. In this very moment she was looking in the most private part of my life. Reading every line. Every word.

My heartbeat escalated. This stranger thought she had the right to go through my property, read my thoughts - and not consider how I felt without the only thing keeping me sane? I was angry. Hell, I was furious. I wouldn't hurt her, no, but I wouldn't let her get away with it either.

 

[amber’s pov]

My mind too clouded, I didn’t even notice the door opening and the fact that someone entered. Not even that the person stood there watching me too surprised to speak for a minute or so. It was first, as a sharp statement escaped his lips that I finally noticed his presence and my head snapped up to stare at him in complete shock.

If I had believed my night couldn’t possibly contain any more surprises I was wrong. Endlessly wrong. As I took in the appearance of the guy standing in the room with me, I couldn’t utter a word. Couldn’t move. I was absolutely startled.

Harry.

"You do realize a journal is an extremely personal thing right?" His voice sounded raspy, low and threatening. The sound brought my body back to life and made me take a step back in panic as he continued, "so my only question is why the fuck are you standing with mine?"   

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a/n: dedicated to Alex because she helped me making this chapter as perfect as we could possibly make it. I hope it was good enough. Loads of love.