h a r r y

Art galleries were always my favourite place to visit as a child. The variety of art inspired me even with my innocent eyes and young heart, my mother and sister would always stare at a painting for merely a few seconds – but not me. I'd vast in the glory of the paintbrush strokes, the technique used within the canvas and the character the artist poured into each stroke of their brush. But, it wasn't until I saw a painting called 'Arabella'; by an unknown artist, that I truly got inspired. The painting had a horizon of suns around a naked woman with charming blue eyes, long dark hair and perfect full lips, the image captivated me in a way I couldn't quite understand. Her lips were said to be inspired by rose petals, her eyes sucking in the soul of the ocean and her hair wild with the wind. The painting encouraged me to start portraits of soulful girls, I started with nothing too raw until I came across similar blue eyes in my first year of high school. Lola was my muse and inspired me to be the painter I am today, my technique growing everyday from her galaxy touching my small star.

"I like this one," Soft lips speak next to me, a gentle smile on her face. "It's very pretty."

I had taken Lola to an art gallery the next day after school, something I did when I was also stressed. I had guessed she was mentally strained that day, of course after she left the principals office yesterday in a tense manner I assumed she wouldn't be much brighter the next day. She was faded and seemed to be in sync with the grey, cloudy sky, her bruise was covered heavily with make up and her eyes stayed on her feet as she walked to her classes, so I kept my mouth shut and simply asked her to join me to get her mind off the stares and whispers, hopefully gaining more of a connection; hopefully.

"Yeah, I like it." I comment back, giving Lola a soft smile. "Does it inspire you?"

She giggles. "I think so," She pushes back her dark hair, the strands framed her face today in perfect curls. "Why do I need to get inspired so much?"

I almost laugh out loud at that question, I guess she didn't see how amazing it was when you become so inspired you begin to create a world with just a glimpse of soft lips or bright eyes. "I-It's just how I do things I guess, I can't create anything without being inspired first."

"I think I know what I want to paint now anyway, I was going to start on it tonight actually."

"That's great." I say, growing dim suddenly. "So you don't need my assistance any more?" I question warily.

She smiles widely. "Don't be silly, I obviously still need help."

"Oh, right." I feel my body relax.

We stare at the painting in front of us some more, the gallery quiet around us. The artist had created a beautifully enchanting image of a mountain, surrounded with fog and pink skies that illuminated the whole painting wonderfully.

It wasn't until we were walking back to Lola's home that I brought up Louis, having been on guard by her off behaviour the past day I stayed silent until the right moment. I kicked a stone with my shoe, a sound emits as it skids across the pavement, echoing around us after I asked how they were both doing. She sighed, long and tired.

"We're okay." Is all she replies.

"Has the um... the-"

"Yes everyone has shut up and left me alone." She says bluntly. "For now."

I give her a sympathetic look. "If you ever need someone to talk to, don't hesitate to come to me."

The look on her face almost shocks me enough to stop my legs from moving, the winter air rushing around my skin wasn't what formed these goosebumps, it was her longing eyes and raw soul that made my heart skip a little faster. She lets out a breath and smiles a toothy grin, she smiles and all I can think is 'oh shit'.

"Thanks Harry," My name slides off her lips like honey. "That's really sweet."

We arrive to her house just as the sun is weakening behind the clouds, a orange glow casts over us and I'm left speechless as Lola smiles at me and leans against her white gate, messy flower gardens in the background. It was a moment you wish you had a camera to capture the raw moment and forever stare at its beauty. Obviously I wasn't strange enough to randomly ask to take a photo of her, but I was dying to. She was utterly beautiful with her round bright eyes, ruby lips and slightly crooked smile that glowed under the sun-setting.

"Well thanks for the little adventure, I had fun." She express' with sweetness.

I smile. "You're very welcome," I scratch the back of my curls as I take a step forward, the gesture makes her smile fade a little. "D-Did you want my number, you know... so you can easily get a hold of me in case of like, an emergency or y-you need to talk or-"

"That'd be great, Harry." She chuckles.

I sigh out of annoyance, stupid rambling.

I take a pen out of my bag and rip some paper from a blank page in my art book, writing my number and signing the paper before handing it to her. She gestures a wide grin and thanks me, suddenly pecking my cheek with her soft lips before saying a quick goodbye. I'm left with a thumping heart and clammy hands as she closes the red door behind her with one last smile, disappearing and leaving me with nothing but a jumbled mind and sweetness on my cheek.

***

"Hi, Mrs. Robinson." I struggled with the canvas in my arms, causing my teacher to look eager as she glances up in her black rimmed glasses.

"Yes, Harry?"

"I-Is that show piece still open?"

"It is."

"How do I enter something in? Do I just go there and enter a piece?" I ask nervously.

Mrs. Robinson smiles at me with excitement, a teacher that always treated me better than I deserved. "I can enter it for you this afternoon, a few students are waiting for me to submit their entries as well, actually."

"Oh that would be great, I have it right here actually." I struggle with the canvas as I settle it down, she gives me a look before gazing upon my creation with a wide mouth.

Sometimes I thought Mrs. Robinson had a thing for me, her eyes would always flutter when I laughed with her and she always took extra interest in my art, but she was a 46 year old woman with four kids so maybe she was just nice. Mrs. Robinson takes a second look towards me before landing on the painting again, I felt pretty proud as she gazed at the painting with admiration.

"That is very, very beautiful Harry."

"Thank you." I grin foolishly.

Mrs. Robinson gives me a look. "You really are a romantic, aren't you Harry?"

I nervously chuckle, scratching my curls as she admires the painting some more. "I guess so."

Mrs. Robinson stands and grabs the canvas, looking at the picture lovingly. "I'll enter this with the rest of the paintings this afternoon Harry, I'll let you know when winners are announced."

"Okay, thank you."

I quickly leave the classroom and enter the cold winter air again, grabbing my beanie from my coat pocket and wrapping the soft, cotton warmth around my head to escape the icy breeze. I walk to my next class with my head down, noticing the silence as classes had already began twenty minutes ago. I sigh out a tired breath, thinking of Lola as I now gaze at the blue sky, the clouds forming into grey clusters telling us rain was ready to visit.

It's when my feet are taken out from under me that my mind comes to a stop, landing on the hard ground with a grunt. Anger pulses through me as the deliberate act left me with grazes up my arm and forehead, pouncing up and ready to face the person with a full brunt of wrath. My brows furrow as blue eyes come into view, a smug grin on his lips and inked arms tucked into the pockets of his black coat.

Louis.

"Hi, Harry." He pulls a cigarette from his pocket, placing it between his grinning lips as I stand with anger dripping from me. "We need to talk."

***

ooo more drama with mister tomlinson ;) hope you guys enjoy this chapter! votes and comments are really, appreciated. ty guys.

-A