Carolina and The Fan Non-fiction | H.S

Twenty-Five

I couldn't sleep last night.

Jas and I spent hours figuring out how to filter through my private messages in Instagram until we discovered that we could set my account to only receive notifications from people I follow. Then I remembered to follow Harry back. On Twitter, I didn't really do much except that I learned I had already followed him there and that he had sent in a follow request. It was lost among thousands.

It was eleven when we decided to hit the sack. Only I couldn't. Sleep wasn't for me to decide in that hour. I ended up just writing a little bit by the window on my trusty brown Sillons planner which I had managed to earn after 18 stickers and had since converted into a journal. I didn't always write there the things I had to do, instead, often the things I had done or had felt.

It also became my moleskin notebook's worthy successor. With a little pocket attached to the inside of its front and back cover, I tucked in little papers in them that I categorized as important. Those and Harry and I's polaroids.

I did eventually doze off, never making it to the bed. I woke up early today, my head rested on my arms, and my arms rested on my study table. I didn't mind and was no longer surprised, this was something I had done many times before, whenever I'm pulling off an all-nighter.

What surprised me, on the other hand, is that I woke up to a message from Harry.

harrystyles ☑

Today 5:30 AM

Morning Viv! Thanks for following me back.

I don't know if you're up yet but it's album release day today

I'll be on BBC Radio 1 at 7 AM. x

These messages, in other circumstances, would sound mundane. Right now, however, the fact that a smile took over my face as an initial response tells me they're anything but. Never has an online good morning sincerely felt good until I've read this. And I'm not sure how I feel about feeling this way yet. It's amazing but beyond that, I'm quite reluctant about everything else.

Oh, my same old reluctance.

After minutes have passed with my overanalyzing, I answer him.

Morning Harry

I'll be sure to check that out

I'm excited to hear
your new songs.
I'm sure the album
will do great!

Then I lock my phone.

I look over to Jas who was probably busy in dreamland and avert my eyes to the clock. I know I hate how much time moves fast and steals details (The Kite Runner!), but I realized I didn't like the opposite as much. How slow it could get that it drags and lets you pay attention to too much detail. I always end up spending the seemingly prolonged seconds in a spiral of thoughts and questions.

Why am I talking to Harry again? Why did Harry talk to me again? Why are we acting like we didn't kiss and never talked again? Is this supposed to happen? Am I supposed to think this way? Should I just cook breakfast to get out of this spiral?

Breakfast, it is.

I stand from my chair, feeling the long hours of sitting show in the pain of stretching my knees and back. My body was apparently exhausted by the position I had chosen to sleep in but my mind was ready for the day. I feel scarily chirpy for someone who prefers to sleep in every weekend I could get and is therefore rarely chirpy in the morning.