Two Roads ≫ l.s

7

Harry's POV

I could use a million words to describe him and it still wouldn't be enough. I nibbled the tip of my pen thoughtfully, my diary page illuminated by the moonlight which made the need of my flashlight particularly unnecessary.

I could write about the certain depth in his eyes that I find myself distractively consumed in mid-conversation. I could write about how he floods my thoughts every minute of every day. Which is kind of weird, seeing as I have only known him for two of these days. But in such a short space of time, admittedly I've been thinking about very little else.

I could write about how everything's supposed to 'fall into place' and I'll suddenly 'understand' why people lay awake at night thinking about that certain someone. But evidently, judging by the content of the rest of this diary, I lay awake at night anyway.

Is this special? Is it meant to be? I frowned. I don't... I gulped, my hand hesitating. It's not like I love him or anything... I guess he just... interests me. On a level I didn't even know was accessible. There are levels to Louis that I don't think anyone has access to other than himself. And I don't know if I'll ever get to discover them, or even acknowledge them.

I stared at the reflection of the moon on the lake, a white spotlight on the water's surface. He reminds me of the moon. Part of him is always hidden away.

With a sigh, I closed my diary, flicking the mess of scribbled pages on top of each other and pushing it aside on a patch of the surrounding grass I lay in.

The river bank seemed like the most suitable place to escape the snore-filled tent, which being the misophoniac I am, I had to attempt to make a quiet escape from, despite the drop in temperature that the night brought. I shivered through my absence of a jacket, starting to wish that I had remembered how cold the air could be in the early hours of the morning, although I was usually pretty resistant to the cold due to the regular midnight walks I'd take back home.

I shuffled around in the grass I was surrounded by, letting my gaze travel up to the clear stretch of night sky watching over me. The stars, with no darkness of cloud intruding their hazy shine, stared straight back at me, making me start to doubt the idea that they were multimillions of miles away from my eyes, instead of within touching distance.

I couldn't help a soft smile spread throughout my face as I fixated my gaze at the Pole star. The pole star, that had saved the lives of many travellers, from the Inuits of the North, to the Pilgrimage-makers in the region of Southern Asia. A pinpoint light in the sky had the power and ability to guide people back to safety. A pinpoint light that was therefore heavily relied on through countless generations due to its mere positioning in the sky.

It was incomprehensive how many lifetimes this star had shone over. How many loves it must have witnessed. How many lives, how many deaths, how many dream-led idiots lying in grass staring at it when they should have been sleeping like everyone else.

I wondered if the comparison of humans to stars could go as far as considering that every human had the equivalent to a Pole star for them. Someone who would guide them through their own pilgrimage-type tasks life threw at them. Someone who would see them through the happiest, and darkest of their days. A soulmate who would always be there regardless of the situation, or whether or not they're noticeable, just like the pole star in the day time, although overshadowed by the blueness of day, still there.

I guessed the only struggle in this, was the finding of their own metaphorical Pole star. More commonly referred to as "The One." by most others.

I often thought over how many possible human lives had been completely dedicated to finding "The One.".
Most never do. It's considered something "lucky." And, honestly speaking, I wasn't exactly known for my astounding luck with anything, let alone something as far-fetched as love. To love, I was a complete alien. I didn't know how to love, how to understand love, or even fully comprehend the entire concept of love.