we literally knew 0% shit about xander. there was 0% reason to ever like him. stop placing white male nobodies on pedestals.

You know what’s sad? Teenage boys who think they can come up to you in the middle of an interesting class making sexual noises and gestures and think it’s perfectly funny. What’s sadder is that when you tell them to stop they glare at you and tell you you’re a bitch. Not wanting to be sexually harassed at school and speaking up in an uncomfortable situation does NOT make me a bitch.

Journals and Adidas Jumpers

Originally posted by lahving

“Do you remember being here for the first time?” You ask, twirling a tendril of your boyfriend’s hair.

“ 'Course I do, ’s where I saw you.” 

You and Harry lie under one of the grand trees that surround Washington Square Park. A picnic basket sits next to you, along with a blanket underneath the both of you. 

“I think I should tell you,” You whisper softly. Harry hums, keeping his eyes shut in serenity.

“that day, I saw you as well. With your journal, and with Liam.”

Harry peeks his eyes at you, arching his eyebrows forward. 

“I never really told you because.. well I don’t know. But I guess it’s a bit of a fun fact now, right?” He nods, protruding his lips out so that he can kiss the side of your head.

“Hm, what else happened that day?”


University student Harry sits timidly in under the same Sycamore tree of Washington Square Park. He messes around with the leather of his journal, unsure of what else to write. 

So far, there has been art upon art, all different forms. An abundance of doodles surrounded pages that have words heaved across in the tan coloured sheets. Some are of what he’s seen in his journey, most are of what he imagines. The words come to play as lyrics or his thoughts, sometimes both.

He’ll be in need of a new one soon, with only a couple of pages left which he intends to fill with whatever besets him in his current surroundings. 

It’s fitting actually, a new journal for a new city. 

In front of Harry is a plethora of scenes, all varying in their structure. Thousands of faceless people he’ll never see again. Millions of differing thoughts and emotions he isn’t quite sure how to capture on a page. It’s a bit much for a small town boy to take in.  

But that’s it really, there’s a bit too much in front of him that he cannot set his thoughts on one. 

That is, until you appear.

You pose under the lamppost with your friend, discussing God knows what. Pressed against your chest is a smash book of your own, only not leather bound but a simple canvas instead.

Harry studies your stature, captivated by your smile. It comes to light when you laugh, and he wishes to know more. 

You aren’t too far from him either, a mere ten meters (34 feet) away.

But Harry can’t find himself the courage to be on his way. He’s a bit frozen actually, seeing you puts a face of admiration on him. If only you’d turn to see him as well. 

On your end, you’re strolling through the park to meet your friend, who blubbers on about how “New York is our campus”. You’re a bit overwhelmed by the idea of it as well but decide to take it day by day so that it isn’t too daunting.
You scan your surroundings and realise just how many people are in Manhattan. The college students roam in either a companionship or by themselves. Some with a group. On top of that families of both children and dogs are littered across the greenery. 

Your eyes land on a man lying under a tree, with a journal in hand just like your own. You clutch it harder, remembering that it’s still with you. 

“Damn, who do you think that is?” Your friend stops mid-sentence to notice a tall, brown haired man walking towards the curly under the Sycamore.

I’m not sure.. but his friend under the tree is quite handsome as well.” You notice, blinking at them a few times. 

You turn your attention away after realising you’ve been staring, pulling your friend as well. 

“Is Lou on his way?” You ask, and she nods. 

“I still don’t understand why he had us meet him at the park instead of the shop then not even show up on time.” You tsk. 

“He’s odd, we both know that.” She sighs. 

Louis arrives minutes later, casually strolling along as if he wasn’t late twenty minutes.

“Where have you been?!” You shout through the hug he gives you.

He shrugs, “Got places to be, people want to see me Y/N.”

You roll your eyes as he jokes on, “I’m in very high demand ladies. You should be lucky I even showed up.”

“Think Coffee then?” Your friend suggests. You nod, taking one more look at the strangers under the tree before heading off. You’re left to wonder about the curly haired man and if you’d see him again. 

“And what innocent stranger has the pleasure of being stalked by you today?” A brunette pokes Harry, bending down next to him. He basks in the shade of the tree, not being able to stand the blaring sunlight.

Harry rolls his eyes, “I don’t stalk people, Liam.”

“I sometimes study the movement of others and retrieve inspiration by imagining their life stories.”

“So stalking but with a fancier definition and occasional imagining.” Liam notes. Harry rolls his eyes again. 

Adidas, Harry writes. You’re Adidas clad with the logo on your black sweater. Harry believes it’s still a bit too warm for you to be wearing a sweater, but he can’t picture you in anything lovelier at the moment.

Adidas is clinging to her body but still keeps a loose distance. 

Liam won’t admit it but he’s watching your friend happily as well, all aware of what creeps they might be. It’s worth it anyways. 

In his eyes, disappointment arrives when Louis does, wanting him to be the one to leave with you. 

“Don’t say you’re writing a song about those girls mate, you don’t even know them.” Liam scolds.

Harry shakes his head, attention not leaving the page.

“No, just a bit of admiration.”


In class, Harry sits middle-row seat, apprehensive about his future. The statistics for a student of music theory are not very high in that of promising a successful career. However after several discussions with both his family and the ladies of W. Mandeville Bakery, there is no shame in giving his dream a go.

He fiddles around with his fingers, occasionally using them to run through his hair which was freshly cut as forced by his mother to. He bears a flannel faded blue and green, a new favourite which he purchased before arriving at University. He was a mess deciding what to wear and figured if he was to go into a new environment, why not a new piece of clothing as well?

More people begin to file into the room, but none unfortunately sitting next to Harry. He shrinks down for a moment, wondering if anyone would bother too. 

Does he smell alright? He’s sure to, he showered not too long ago.  

Is there something in his teeth or on his face? He pulls out his phone to check, still the same features without any intruders. 

Class is to start in three minutes. Others occupy spaces in front of, behind or a few seats away but not right next to him. It’s a bit peculiar to hope someone sits right next to you, but Harry’s in search of a new friend by the end of the day. It’s become his goal.

“H-Hi, is someone sitting here?” A gentle voice inquires. Harry strikes his head up to view the stranger, his heart warming once he sees her.

It’s Adidas jumper girl, the one he found adorable the day before.

Harry swallows, you’re still fresh on his mind. 

He was shy, so very shy. He still is about it. He wanted to approach you but couldn’t find the courage to. But when he finally did, he saw you turn to hug another guy with disheveled brown hair who he knows he’s taller than. 

He was discouraged, simply living it up to fate to bring him to you if it could.

It now has.

“Uh-erm, yeah! Wait, I mean, no you can sit there, yeah someone’s taken it, wait, no not that. I mean no one’s sitting here, you can take the seat if you’d like.” He rambles, now very flustered at the memory of you.

You giggle, sliding into the metal seat. 

“I’m Y/N.”

“I’m Harry.” He sticks his hand out to shake by force of habit. You take the larger hand into yours, giving it a firm squeeze. 

“S-Sorry, about what I said earlier.”  Harry rubs the back of his neck, slightly mortified at how nervous he is. 

“ ’s alright, I think I would’ve done that as well if I were in your position.” 

“Why’s that?” He asks, watching you unpack your things.

“I dunno.. I’ve done it before so a repeat of history isn’t uncommon.” You tell him, though there is a different reason why you’ve said what you did. 

You saw him too yesterday, admiring his lanky figure in concentration. The tousled curls got you just a bit and you wished to see him again. 

But you wouldn’t tell him that, as that is a story for a different time.

“Oh.” Harry nods. He returns his gaze to the pen in front of him, twisting it around in his grip.

The tension between you two becomes a bit much but you’re both too stubborn to talk. But at least you’re next to him, there’s a start.  

“So where are you-”

“Where are you-”

“You go first.” Harry says, cheeks tinted pink. 

“So where are you from?” You ask, admiring his voice. 

“Erm, Holmes Chapel, i-it’s this small town near Manchester, if you know anything about England.”

You hum, knowing your cities from Louis.

“I have a friend that’s from Doncaster, actually. You might like him, he’s quite the character.”

Harry’s eyes widen for a moment, maybe that’s a guy you were with yesterday. He’s just a friend, maybe.

But why is he even caring? He hardly knows you! You’ve just met, he can’t go wondering, he won’t allow himself to. 

“What were you going to ask?” You bring up the earlier question. However before Harry is able to answer, the professor stalks in hurriedly. 

“First day and I’m already late, but if I’m a performer and you guys are my audience, it’s okay to make you wait, right?” The man teaching laughs. The class quiets down, everyone’s attention on him. 

The class bores, mostly just the cool professor going over the basic’s of the class and what’s expect for the semester. It’s intimidating, putting fear in both you and Harry as you think of all that you’re supposed to accomplish. 

He ends up dismissing class half an hour early for reasons unknown, so you have time to kill.

Harry sees you packing up your things when a brilliant idea pops into his head. He decides to just blurt it out before he talks himself out of it.

“Y/N, d-do you uhm, do ya wanna get some coffee with me? Like right now? S-Since we can leave early, and stuff.” He rubs the back of his neck awkwardly. He’s completely nervous. 

“Yeah,“ You smile. “I’d love to.”

And coffee resulted in another cup, followed by dinner, and loads more exciting things after that, leading you to where you are right now, cuddled up next to the stuttering man whom you first admired under the same tree. 

Harry feels around the blanket for his journal, one of many. He pets the material, the same leather as the day he caught sight of you. The same nerves still rise every time he sees you. You take his breath away, but frankly he’s glad to have it gone. 

“Can you imagine if I said no to coffee with you?” You poke his chest. 

He laughs, “I think you would’ve ruined my self-esteem, and my hopes of ever talking to you in that class.”

“Well aren’t you glad I said yes then?” You peck his nose. He crinkles, “Just a bit.”

But of course he’s completely glad. 

Your eyes slowly shut against his chest whilst Harry’s remain on the lamppost just ten meters away from him.  

Sometimes Harry isn’t so sure got to be so blessed, but he thanks his stars everyday that he got to be with his Adidas sweater girl.

It’s a bit different from my usual, I know. This was just something I was in the mood for, after inspiration from old writing by my babe, Caro. She’s sleepymerlot and quite lovely. But also a bit bleh. I say that out of love. Sort of.

Let me know if you like this one! I don’t go to NYU so I wouldn’t know how things work, but please send me a message if you can! I’d love to hear from you all, feedback is, well, needed at some points. 

Love to you all if you’re reading this,

Iz xx


My cover of “Ever Since New York” by Harry Styles.