The Sculpture and The Sculptured (l.s)

twenty-five

Harry is living in an isolated town miles from home and Port City. No one knows his name, nor does anyone know where he came from, and so his nights have been peaceful yet lonely. With his own garden for vegetables and a successful bakery, Harry finds himself cooking more than usual. The problem, however, is that the former prodigy is a terrible cook and lazy cleaner.

The artist is fine with it, seeing that the reason for his lack of motivation is his distracted mind that focuses on his lost love. He still, however, commissions for his art, molding small figurines for children and holding classes on the weekend for them so they can learn. One child, Juliet, has taken a strong liking to him in particular. Left orphaned due to the recent plague, Juliet is a child raised by the town. Multiple women feed her and sew clothes for her, but Harry is the only man giving her fatherly attention. While he spends time with her in the open, so not to cause trouble for himself, she comes to his home the most to spend time with him.

"Excuse me." Harry says as a woman opens her door, and she smiles as Harry holds out a sculpture of a cat. "I hope it makes Joseph feels better about losing Grayson."

"Thank you so much." She says as she takes it, and Harry bows before taking his walk home. When he gets inside, he makes himself comfortable at the kitchen table and stares at the letters scattering the table. His love letters from Louis are mixed with updates from Niall, who recently wrote to him last week. The new letter is still sealed, and it's simply because the sadness and ache has crawled back into Harry's heart. His hands have never healed right after what Mr. Tomlinson did, making his sculpting not nearly as beautiful as before, and his face is slightly scarred as well.

He's absolutely convinced Louis has found a wife, possibly invested in raising children, and may be too traumatized to even attempt finding Harry. As the artist sits in a cold home on a hot day, he curls his knees towards his chest, and wipes his eyes as a few tears fall.

"Mr. Styles!" Harry looks up from his clay, smiling when a group of young children race towards him. "What're you making this time?"

"Good morning to you, too." He greets them as they sit around him. Passing people smile at the scene, and some single women whisper and fawn along their way. Ignoring them, Harry turns his model around. "I think you scared away my muse, but it's a good thing I've seen her before."

The children 'oh' at the clay bunny in his hands, eyes wide, and some reach out to touch it gently as if it would run away. While the detailing isn't done, making it rough and bare of life, it's shape is clear and that's enough to impress any child. "Mr. Styles, can I make a bunny?"

"I would love to see you make a bunny," Harry starts as the little boy sticks a finger in his mouth, "but I really like beetles. Can you make me a beetle?"

The boy nods, and Harry hands him some clay from this morning's batch, knowing it doesn't take much shaping and skill to make such a simple insect therefore avoiding the hopeless feeling the boy would get from not being able to make a bunny. He spends time with the children before washing his hands in the bucket of water not far from his molding area. The children stay with his clay, knowing that the artist doesn't mind them playing with his things while he's gone.

"I'm off to the bakery, now. Follow me if you want breakfast!" Harry says, and the children drop everything. With a laugh, the sculptor leads the children down the roads to his little bakery where a young man is already finishing a hand full of batches.

"Mr. Styles," he looks at the oldest girl in the group whose eyes are on his hands, "are you not married?"

Harry stalls for a moment.  "No," he answers as he hides his sadness of Louis, "I'm not married. I don't think I will ever be."