The Time I Spent With Louis

ONE

Warm light flooded through the cracked window and folded into white rose petals that grew from ceramic vases. The studio was peaceful that day, a steady calmness lingering in the stuffy air. The atmosphere smelled rustic, a scent of nostalgia and longing, pitiful cries whispering sweet wants into the hushed atmosphere. The room was familiar, barley changing as the days went on, the room used to be much more exciting, Harry would haul in canvases and paint every little beautiful thing he saw, but now the room was bare, with only stains of paint on the wooden desk to remind him of a happier chapter in his life. Wire bird cages hung from the low ceiling, the doors ripped off, angry cuts were the metal used to attach. In the middle of the studio sat a lonely wooden tool. The wood was dark and cracked, chipped marks from many years of being used. Perched atop the stool was Harry, his brown hair coiled at the nape of his neck from the humidity the rain had created. Little droplets bounced off the window, a small puddle leaking onto the window seal. The grass outside whispered in the wind, twirling like dancers in a ballet, leaping and spinning, the dirt as their stage.

There hadn't been a storm like this for a rather long time which Harry found quite fascinating. He lived, and always had, in a town named Eltham, named after someone's great great grandfather who probably lost a limb in war or something, but at last even great grandpa Eltham with 1 leg would be ashamed of the town. The town was always dark, as if grey washed over everything leaving an unsaturated mess in its path. It often rained, especially in the morning, but it had been at least a month since it came down as hard as it was that particular afternoon. The town sat on an island, causing salty winds and fishy smells to swim in the air.

Eltham was small and boring meaning it didn't make it to most maps, the only use of the town was fishing, sometimes a tourist would stop by, in an attempt to take a break from England, only to never come back. There was something peculiar about Eltham that scared most people off, the only people that understood the island were the people that had lived there all their life. The people that knew the town inside and out.

Harry was lost in thought, staring at two raindrops racing down the window. (The right raindrop was winning by far at first, but then the left drop combined with a big cluster of drops and sped down into first place.) Harry knew it was quite silly and childish of him, having raindrop races, but he was so very bored so he shrugged it off, looking back to the window.

However Harry was so lost in the race he didn't see the rather tall man sulking across the muddy grass. His left shoe was untied making him trip every so slightly, he almost lost grip on the coat he had pulled over his head. The man had been walking back from the lake, something he did quite often, however he didn't expect to be caught in such a storm, his shoes were most definitely ruined, and they were a new pair! His legs grew tired and his stomach growled, he was still so far from home.

Somewhere how deep inside him a bad idea bloomed. Like a rose it looked fine at first, but as he thought more into it he started to see the thorns. He trudged onto Harry's doorstep, not quite sure what he was doing. You don't even know this person! He breathed in a shaky breath. They could be crazy! He pulled his trembling hand from his pocket. No no no this is a bad idea, walk away! He put his fist an inch from the door, squeezing his eyes shut. It's not too late to turn around! Knock. Run now they can't catch you if you go now! Knock. Nooo now it's too late, tell them you knocked by accident! No that's stupid! Knock. He swallowed deeply waiting for someone to come to the door, deep down hoping no one would.

Harry must have jumped 3 feet in the air when he heard someone knocking at his door. He froze for a moment, his feet like heavy anvils frozen in place. Deep inside him a voice chanted to lock the door and turn away, because you are certainly not supposed to let in strangers in the middle of rainstorms, but there was this pull in his heart. As if a puzzle piece had snapped into place, because Harry was so empty he didn't think he could ever be full again, because Harry was so lonely he'd imagine he was talking to his friends or his mom again, because even though Harry knew deep inside it was a bad idea, he stood up. He dragged his feet across the dark oak floor, reaching for the brass doorknob. For a moment he thought about letting go of the knob and turning away, it ran through his mind for only a second that this could possibly be a bad idea because to Harry it was a miracle. An angel sent from heaven to keep him from going completely off the walls. So he opened the door.