Prologue
When I think of him, a spark ignites in my stomach, my smile grows wide while my eyes begin to twinkle.
His smile and dimples immediately erase my pain that gather together in the deep scars that I hold. His voice is one of a kind, along with his personality. I can tell you everything to know about him, but I don't exactly know him.
When I met him, I was ecstatic! I walked up and smiled, holding out my CD. He grabbed it, looked up with an irritated expression and said, " What's your name?" as if it were routined.
He didn't have an ounce of joy, that single sparkle of perfectnness I've seen in pictures and on interviews. Its like it was never there. I felt like I didn't know him at all. It felt like I was talking to a stranger.
" What's your name?" he asked again growing more irritated than before.
I came back to reality and looked at him. His eyebrows scrunched together, lips pursed, hair almost looking straight. You could automatically tell he didn't want to be here, he made the idea of signing cd's for fans was a problem. By the looks of it he could've been doing something more productive and entertaining than meeting the millions of people who helped him be where he is today. He wasn't appreciative for the things he had.
He wasn't the same person I watched through the computer or television screen. The great amount of excitement and lack of breath coming to me when I see him. Now, it was just. . . . Plain.
It was as if i was taking to a random stranger art a grocery store. Or the angry cashier guy across the street named Luke.
So, taking a last glance at him, how the irritated look on his face was so sad to look at, the heavy frown etched across his face, it was all crystal clear.
" Nevermind " I left the CD there on the table and in the hands of a stranger I once knew.
I've loved him for 3 years, and when I finally meet him he's in a crappy mood.
The thing was, I didn't even know who he was anymore, because there, sitting on that chair, was not the Harry Styles I fell in love with.
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