Charlie. (Larry Stylinson)

Tenor.

Princeton High Academy.

[Musical Room]

"I never took you for the musician type," Charlie says, eyes analyzing the several instruments in the room. He's never been there before and he's suddenly wondering why; something about the peacefulness of it, with the beautiful piano melody playing on the small radio Daniel turned on. And they're not supposed to be in there, prohibited to students who aren't under the supervision of their teacher; however, Daniel's charm and amiability has made his one of his teacher's favorites, allowing him to access the room twice a week, under the promise that he would keep it tidy and lock the doors when done. Charlie likes that - the exclusiveness of it all, knowing that he's the only one Daniel has ever bothered to bring in there, whether it be for quality time or no motive at all.

"Runs in my blood. My mother was a showgirl in her younger years, plays, musicals, broadway. My father played the sax in one of the musicals my mother played in; and well; that's how they met. Now, they're both owners of a theatre and teach courses," Daniel explained, hands gently gliding on the keys of the grand piano. "What about your parents? Are they as introverted and alluring as you are?"

"I have a dad who owns a bakery and another father who comforts me in spirit," Charlie replies. Daniel is taken aback, a small lump in his throat because he realizes what the green-eyed boy is talking about. A sympathetic apology is exchanged. "I keep him close to me," he says, setting Harry's journal atop the piano, carefully sliding it towards Daniel.

November 16, 1988.

I read an article today; had to do with equality and such. There was a line that caught my eye, about how people don't know how to separate facts from opinions; how in the instant of certain situations, people can make their beliefs appear as facts, ruling out the word 'opinion' entirely. It started to make me think about my preferences in life, whether it's something I've chosen or if it's naturally apart of my being; it made me think about how I may come across problems in my own life, how people may belittle me and make me appear as if I've done something wrong. I think, naturally for anyone, being pointed out of a crowd can make anyone a little afraid. I don't want to be afraid of who I am, of being Harry.

Niall received another letter from Zayn. He's coming to London for Christmas and will be staying with Niall and his family for two weeks. I'm excited to finally meet him - the man behind the poetic words and long, meaningful letters. I'm starting to see what Niall means about feeling love. I look at Louis and feel things as well - beautiful things.

PS. Thanksgiving is around the corner. I can smell my grandmother's ham already.

Charlie carefully retrieves the journal and doesn't miss the way Daniel's hand lingers on his when he hands it over.