Woman ☆ Harry Styles AU

::four::

"Mr. Harry! Look! I done it all by myself!" A small child grabbed my hand to get my attention.

I looked down and saw Maria Belle, a beautiful little Hispanic girl who enjoyed art as much as I did. I crouched down and gently took the canvas panel from her. She painted a beautiful array of flowers in a green field, a nice colorful sunset behind it.

"This is lovely, doll! You've learned so much. I'm very proud."

She twirled in spot, her hospital gown flowing in the wind she's creating around herself. "Thank you. I'm going to give it to my Mommy. Think she'll like it?"

"Oh, I guarantee she will, love. Go sit it on the rack so it'll dry. Have you got your name on it?"

She turned it over to check, careful not to get the wet paint on her hands. "Yep!"

Once I saw she wrote her name on the back of the canvas, I nodded to her and pointed to the metal drying rack in the back of the room. She skipped over to it, sliding it onto a shelf she could easily reach. She was one of the few older kids I taught.

"Mr. Harry.." A soft whisper appeared by me. I looked over and saw Daniel standing quietly a few from me.

I gave him a warm smile, knowing his anxiety is really sensitive. I didn't want to overwhelm him. "Hi, dear. Do you need some help?"

He nodded and hesitantly looked over his shoulder towards his table. He turned that way and started the journey there. I stood up and followed him, dodging a few running children in the process - who I kindly asked to not run with pens in their hands. They listen to me, thankfully. The group of children I work with are always so kind and they listen well. I'm honored to teach them.

Daniel pointed to his paper plate covered in paint while sitting down. I kneeled by the shirt table and sighed as I saw what his issue was. He had over mixed a bunch of colors and now his paint was all muddy.

"I'm sorry." He whispered under his breath.

"You're fine, buddy. Nothing to apologize for. I do this all the time."

He nodded softly. "I was tryna make.. make orange.. I forgot how."

"Orange is made of red and yellow. Remember the poster over there?" I pointed across the room to the big poster showing which primary colors make the secondary ones.

"I.. I forgot."

"S'okay. I'll grab you a clean plate and some new paints." I gently patted his back before standing up with the dirty plate.

I walked over to my desk and dropped it into the trash bin. The stack of plates always rested on the corner of my desk, which was just a table honestly. I took a clean one off the top and reached into the storage box behind my personal area and grabbed a tube of red, yellow, blue, black, and white - respectively - paint. Just as I was taking the top off the red paint, my phone buzzed in my back pocket. I furrowed my brows, unsure of who would be messaging me. I shrugged off the thought and finished pouring new dollops of paint onto the plate. I snatched up a clean cup of water, I keep them stocked up on my desk during paint days - and headed back to the small boy waiting on me.

Working for the children's hospital is such an accomplishment for me. I run a well respected art program for the hospital. I've even gotten calls from other hospitals and child centers near by before in which I went and taught a few classes at. I enjoy it, really. Helping children express themselves artistically when they struggle to even consider themselves normal at times is why I like it. It's more than just the good paycheck. I adore these children and I'm ecstatic when we get to introduce a new patient to the class. I'm more confident around these children than I am when I'm alone.