Petal [h.s.]

Chapter 37

Violet.

It was around half past ten that evening that William stopped the car in front of Harry's brownstone. I had almost drifted off to sleep in the quiet, warm car, but managed to keep my heavy eyes open until I was actually in Harry's house.

William and I both nodded at Beau, Harry's security guard who was always at the front door or on the opposite side of the street, eyeing the building.

"Got a new security system?" William asked as he saw the new wires and camera's at the front door. I nodded, only now realizing how the other tenants in Harry's building didn't seem to mind about the new systems.

"Yeah, Harry installed something with a code for the door."

"Hmm." William nodded, eyes focussed on the touchpad where I was supposed to type in the code. "Bye. Thanks for driving me." I smiled, closing the car door behind me as I hurried up the few steps, typing in the code after William had driven off. I opened Harry's front door once I got to the fourth floor, being greeted by a dark and quiet apartment.

"Harry?" I called out while stifling a yawn, dropping my keys in the little bowl as I slipped out of my sneakers.

"In the studio." I heard him call back, voice slightly muffled behind the door. I padded to the closed door on my socks, knocking once to let him know I was here before opening it. The dim lights of the studio came from decorative lamps and candles, as Harry was sitting behind the easel, cigarette between his lips and paint brush in his hands.

I leaned against the doorpost, drinking in the vision before me.

His brow was furrowed in concentration as his eyes were trained on the white canvas, arm raised while the long, thin brush rested lazily between his fingers, brushing against the canvas and creating art. He wore a flannel shirt that was covered in black paint stains and even had some rips in them.

I couldn't help the small smile on my lips when I saw the tiny ponytail he had created by pushing his hair back that was much longer now than when I first met him. It stood spiky and in all directions at the top of his head, like a little sprout. It suited him.

"You're supposed to stare at the art, Vi." He teased as I got snapped out of my thoughts and blushed a bit. I walked over to him until I was behind him, peeking over his shoulder to see what he was working on.

"Wow." I breathed, seeing it was still the painting that he said was me, with the yellow in it. It seemed almost finished to me, but I clearly didn't have an equally artistic eye for these things like he had. It looked even more beautiful than it had done the first time, and I felt so flattered that he saw me like that. He was working on some of the shadowing around the curve of the shoulders now.

Harry the painter was something I had yet to get used to, but I felt so grateful he felt comfortable enough to share that secret with me, and to also do it in my presence. It felt nice to see him so passionate about something. I reached for the glass of red wine that was popped up on another stool next to the one he was sitting on, taking a few gulps and letting out a sigh.

"How was the rest of the evening? That guy hurt you some more?" Harry asked, eyes not leaving the painting as he tilted his head slightly, seeing it from a different angle. He seemed critical of his own work, letting his eyes dart over every little detail of it.

I breathily chuckled. "No, and that was an accident. But did get some bad news. There's a new kid coming in tomorrow. Well, new... Not really, he stayed at the RSP a few years ago. He's the absolute worst though." I sighed, already dreading the fact I had to go to work tomorrow and face Timothy.

"He's that bad?" Harry frowned and I nodded. "Oh yes. It's actually the only time I have ever really been scared of a resident. You know, the kids always talk a lot and they can shout or curse sometimes, but I have never felt physically in danger with any of them. They always respect us so much, and when they're angry they try to take it out on furniture instead. I've never been scared to receive a slap or a push from any of them, but Timothy..."