Colors//H.S

I can't run from something good.

Broken crayons, can still color
~from a picture on google

                                          ***

OAKLEY'S POV:

Pain.

Pain is the only thing I have felt. Physically and emotionally. When I moved back in with Harry, that didn't change. I didn't expect it to, but I guess I just wish it did.

My apartment officially isn't mine anymore. It's been about a week since it was put on the market though, and my bruises are still visible, but not bad. I haven't heard from Ian since then either. Which I am over the moon for.

I know I should tell the authorities, but that hasn't worked out in my favor in past.

'Well what were you wearing?'

'We can't do anything about that since you were basically asking for it.'

'Well, next time say no.'

As if saying no wasn't the first thing I did. What was I wearing?! If i was wearing sweatpants and havnt showers for a week, he would have still done what he did.

What I wear does not determine weather you get to touch me or not. No means no. No does not mean keep going. No does not mean maybe. And maybe does not mean yes.

Saying nothing, does not mean yes either.

Harry doesn't like my idea of being silent. Though he doesn't push me into it, I can tell it's eating him alive not getting justice for me. I appreciate it.

Harry has been so sweet. He's been affectionate, kind, he's been caring and understanding. But he's also been keeping his distance. He hasn't kissed me once. Which isn't entirely him, i've been a little distant to. And he understands that. I'm a little shaken up still, but he makes me feel safe.

I've been staying in the guest room though. I don't feel entirely ready to go to that next level of intimacy. I'm still shitting bricks over even being here with Harry, and wanting to kiss him and be with him. So, I need to take my time before i freak out and run.

I can't run from something good.

I haven't been painting either. But every day, I can hear Harry in his studio, singing with that heavenly voice of his.

My hands are itching to get some paintings done, but I can't bring myself to do them. I just sit in my room or the kitchen, or the living room, or outside by the pool and just...stare.

Looking at nothing like a robot. But having a million things swim around in my head.

Questions like 'why me' and anxiety over not getting any work done.

I've been getting emails ever since that day with the watermelon guy. I gave him my email and apparently he gave it to others. Saying how good I was.

So i've been needing to paint and ship those. But I can't. I physically can't, and my mind is screaming at me for it.

Harry had been trying his hardest to motivate me. But it's like trying to get a sack of potatoes to roll over.

I feel bad for him though. For trying to help me, and worrying about me instead of himself and his music.

Guilt is an incredible thing. Eats you alive until there's nothing left.

I've felt it for as long as I can remember.  All though I had no reason to in those circumstances.