Dear Brain, this is why we can’t have nice things, love Jessie.

While I might look fairly innocuous, you can bet that at any given time I am thinking the most fucked up shit. Disclaimer: I don’t fantasise about weird stuff like death or Justin Bieber proposing to me [WHAT THIS ISN’T WEIRD – Ed.], I don’t have a mental disorder, and I probably won’t murder you. In fact, according to a whole bunch of people on the internet, it’s completely normal to be a little paranoid – and everything on the internet is true.

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For Jack Vening who wrote this story in a dream of mine and now I’ve stolen it.

Liam Payne’s hair felt like fibreglass. He kept turning clockwise instead of anti-clockwise while practicing the last verse of ‘What Makes You Beautiful’. His pants, a kind of beige chino, matched Harry’s and Niall’s, but not Zayn’s or Louis’. He wondered if that meant something.

“Tonight is going to be off the hook” repeated Zayn, emphasizing the word ‘off’ harder and deeper than the rest of the twenty times he’d said the same thing.

“Man, performing with Justin Bieber. Our lives, huh. Bieber.”

Harry Styles reclined on a velvet couch and smirked at Zayn.

‘Isn’t he, I dunno, a bit passe? He’s probably grateful for a chance to perform with us. Be cool, Zayn.’

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