GOLDEN (harry styles)

vas-tu te souvenir de moi?

(9/12/17)- 12:56am

I've been on this plane for just under 40 minutes, and I'm already bored out of my mind. The window displays a clear black sky. There isn't any stars to admire, or any clouds to search for shapes in. It's just plain.

I guess that's kind of how I'm feeling. Of course I'm excited to see my family and Griffin, Christmas is wonderful, and New Years is brilliant. But it doesn't feel right not having Harry by my side.

Isn't it weird how one person that you've known for just three months can change your life as if it's been years?

In the airport I saw a little stationery shop, of which sold a countless array of stickers and embroidered patches. There were airplanes, landmarks of Tokyo, different national foods, and a few emojis. My favourite one was a mini microphone that was hidden away behind Mount Fuji, it's delicate threading making it a wonderful find. Plus it symbolises the adventure I've had.

I don't think it has quite sunk in yet that it's over. My heart feels numb, instead of sad or wishful, and I keep pushing the niggling worries to the back of my thoughts in fear of facing them.

I miss Harry. So, so much. I didn't even think it was possible to miss someone this much unless they were dead. The promise that we made still lingers at the end of every worrying 'what if' as a kind of resolution to the non-existing problem. It's probably not healthy, but it'll do until I see him again.

I don't know when that will be. Sure, there's facetime and messaging and writing letters, but that's not seeing him. It's watching him, if anything.

I don't know what I would put in a letter. The simple an boring 'how are you' seems so completely tiring to have to read over and over again.

I sigh quietly in order of not waking up the sleeping, snoring woman slouched way too close to me, and silently rustle around in my backpack for my journal and pen. The warm summertime yellow of it's cover appears very bright on the dull plane, shining through the hundreds of doodles and sketches that litter it.

Harry drew some of those.

He had run out of space on his journal, and saw that mine was already impacted by a few designs of pen ink, and decided that he would decorate it some more. Images of places he's been, places he desperately wants to go, and things Harry loves so dearly are scattered all over, blending in with a few random mismatching stars I've drawn across the years.

With my pen in hand, wrapped inside my fingers, I stare down at the blank new page I've opened up to, ignoring Tyler's name in the last letter I wrote. My breathing sharpens, and I exhale.

Dear Harry,

I'm on the plane now. There is a woman sitting next to me who can't keep her head off my shoulder for the life of her, and I think she just drooled a bit, which is kind of gross. Considering that I hugged you when you were sweaty, you can understand how truly gross this must be.

I did what you said to do. When the plane lifted off the ground, I listened to Sweet Creature by your lovely self, despite the sneaky self promo you got away with somehow. I listened to it's beautiful rhythm, and imagined that you were singing it to me. When I see you again, can you sing it to me? Please?

It's definitely my favourite song now. My favourite used to be Kiwi, but now it's Sweet Creature. But don't tell Mitch or Sarah that, because I know that Kiwi is their favourite and I don't want to offend them.

I miss them all so much. I know that Charlotte will probably be looking over your shoulder as you read this, munching on the chips I accidentally left in her bag (which I regret, by the way. I'm hungry now) and smirking every time I compliment you. That's why I'm saving it until later.