Yellow || hs au

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—

  I'd slept at my apartment for the first time in two days last night and it was horrific. I tossed and turned all night, constantly feeling cold from the lack of warmth Harry's body naturally holds. And sleeping with him is like sleeping with a weighted blanket, he spends half the night on top of me so I've grown used to that feeling.

  But I had to actually go home because it's a new week of classes and I have to keep my focus streak going strong. Even my English professor commented about how well I'd picked myself up which was nice. And as much as I adore Harry, he is quite the distraction at times and I can't afford that, especially as the year comes to an end and soon I'll have to get ready for the exams.

  He fell behind in his classes again. Drastically. And I know it wasn't exactly his fault but now is not the time for that to happen. I've avoided bringing it up so soon because he's still getting back to his comfortable self and I don't want to pester him. But I know he'll get back on track.

  "Miss Anderson, a word before you leave." I glance up from my sketchbook at my history professor. He's an older man, pushing seventy but he's really adorable and has a lot to teach. He's in love with all things war and likes to tel us stories about his family and simple things about his life.

  When the clock strikes one, I gather my things and make my way down the few steps until I'm stood in front of my professors large desk where he sits, cleaning his glasses on his shirt before returning them to his face.

  "I've noticed you're an art major, yes?" He asks quietly, his Scottish accent always catching me off guard, causing me to nod my head, rolling my lips into my mouth, trying to ignore the vibrating of my phone in my back pocket.

  "I am, yes." I answer easily.

  "And I'm sure you know my father served in the Scotland war in 1926. . ." He trails off, his accent is thick but beginning to wear from his time spent living in NewYork. "Well I'd like to have something in his remembrance, and you seem like a very good person to go to for this." He continues, my heart warming as he shrugs innocently, pushing his glasses up his nose.

  "I'd love to put something together for you, Mr. Douglas. Do you have anything in mind?" I ask him, watching his face light up which only causes my heart to swell in my chest.

  "Oh. . . no maybe just something with red poppies?" He suggests. I nod my head, giving him a warm smile as he stares up at me through the lenses of his round glasses.

  "I can do that." I assure him. He smiles brightly and claps his hands together. "Is there a time you need it by?" I ask, adjusting my bag on my shoulder. Mr. Douglas shakes his head and waves me off.

  "Whenever you've got time, dear." He answers. I smile and nod my head, knowing I'll be working on it as soon as I get home tonight. He deserves a piece of work done with thought put in to it. I've learned a lot about him through his stories and he's a really strong man, that's for sure. A painting is the least I can do for him.

  "I'll certainly do my best." I state, Mr. Douglas wearing an overly grateful grin as he nods his head, thanking me over and over again. We dismiss the conversation with short goodbyes before I venture my way out of the building and into the misty outside air.

H: I got the
worst sleep of my life
last night.

H: Just so you know.