Spotlight |h.s|

Seventy Seven

Harry Styles

My glasses stay perched on my nose as my head is angled downward, eyes slightly squinted in focus as I try to keep a steady hand while focusing on Aubrey's rested on my thigh, the light pink polish coating the brush in my hold being neatly spread across her fingernail.

I went from yelling at her for potentially staining the floor in the doorway to painting her nails for her on our couch like some lovesick idiot.

She let me pick out the colors from the stash I didn't know she had in one of the bags hidden in the cabinets on her side of the bathroom, placing my glasses on my face for me so I could accurately decide on what to use.

I picked a soft pink and light green shade, the color combination reminding me of strawberries.

She made the connection before I could even explain it, excitedly pulling me downstairs to the couch so I could paint them for her. I'm the one who came up with this idea to begin with after recalling her doing my eyeliner on Valentine's day, and she was extremely excited about it right away.

Now, a whole hand is done and coated with the alternating pink and green fingernails, her left hand being rested on my thigh as I continue painting. I'm actually not half bad at this, only having to pause a couple of times to clean up the edges with nail polish remover that's also been hidden away in our bathroom for who knows how long.

"Is Ruby feeling better today?" She asks while I work, really putting my multitasking skills to the test as my lips lightly tuck into my mouth in focus.

"Well, after puking her guts out in the plane bathroom, she crashed. Niall got her checked out, and she's gonna be okay. She lost a lot of fluid, but Niall's keeping her hydrated. Liam's helping, too. He was apparently super freaked out when they got off of the plane since she was all pale and sick." I explain.

Turns out she didn't know how much she could take, brushing off six entire edibles like it would just make her a bit giggly and nothing else. Niall said she was perfectly fine for the first half of the flight, just a bit more talkative and touchy. It got to the point where she was completely out of it, which worried him a bit. When she hurried and stood up to go to the bathroom, though, he knew that was the end of the calmness of it all.

She worried all of the flight attendants sick as Niall held her hair back for her and did everything he usually would in that position. He's used to handling sick people after his mom underwent chemo years ago, that position comforting someone hunched over the toilet bowl being something we both aren't unfamiliar with.

I feel terrible that I left those brownies out for her to eat, but she texted me today and said she was feeling better, so the guilt is starting to subside.

"I feel awful," she shakes her head, "Getting sick already sucks enough, and it's just downright embarrassing on a plane."

I pause and squint at her a bit as I take in her word choice, trying to figure her out before I say, "That sounds less like empathy and more like knowing from experience."

She gives me a soft look since I just easily read her, liking how I know her well enough to decipher things like that. What she used to find incredibly annoying for good reason is now something she enjoys. I used to use my ability to read her emotions against her and draw information out of her that I knew she didn't want to share with me, which I still hate myself for and always will. Now, I read her and only ask for more when I know she wants to share it.

"My backstory isn't fun like hers. I didn't have too much THC in my system or anything. I just had a panic attack." She shrugs, my heart aching like it does whenever I hear about how much she's struggled with mental health over the course of her life.