larry- one shots

masterpiece

do you guys like when i leave short notes here and there? just askin :P

They say art was subjective and difficult to judge. Or shouldn't be judged. Either way, Harry was not well versed in judging the merit of artwork, paintings and all, so he would be the worst person to describe what the painting in front of him looked like. After all he hadn't taken Art History and wasn't art lover. Another thing was that he didn't like this form of art and if given a choice, he wouldn't come here to see this.

But if he was to say what he did think the painting was like, he'd say it looked like various geometric shapes had been in a car crash and were slowly merging into one. There was no other way he'd describe the artwork, and yet there were many choice words that could be used to describe the work. The painting, according to the 'authentic' art lovers around him, was a beautiful blend of muted and vibrant colours that created a serene atmosphere. The colours and emotions and how it made them feel was all they were saying and he couldn't even see all that. Then there was talk about the unique brushstroke and the blend and Harry had zoned out by that point, too tired to learn the pretentious definitions. Hence, geometric shapes in a car crash... It would be the perfect title indeed.

But then, he was standing on the outskirts of a group of middle-aged art lovers and young hipsters who were basically salivating over the work. He sighed, taking a step back and letting his eyes sweep over the length of the wall. There were more paintings with a similar geometric theme, abundance of colour and usually formed a bigger shape or picture. It would be pleasing to look at. Harry loved shapes. He would love to watch this one for a few more minutes too, but the problem was with the pretentious people who were after decoding what the picture 'said', what the 'colours denoted' and derived meanings when Harry just couldn't. That threw him off, made his lips settle into a frown as he remembered just why he wasn't the biggest fan of contemporary art. This was supposed to be minimalistic form of art, with major geometric themes from the multiple glances Harry had thrown around the room in general. Niall had called this exhibition one of the popular forms of art that was growing and inspiring many other artists. Harry would very much like to slap him. Not for the information, no, but for dragging him here and then abandoning him to fend for himself. He found himself utterly lost, hanging on to a group of people who were led by his friend. Niall was stood in the front of the same crowd actually, beside a thin, tall lady that was hanging to his every pretentious word. Harry couldn't hear what he did say but he could assume that was what he was talking about, as he was describing the painting to her and trying to sell it. Harry wanted to roll his eyes but then, Niall was doing his job and that included getting rich people to buy art. He was an art consultant and from what he had heard, was a good one at that. Harry had no clue what and how he did it. But he was the one who had taken art history, praised and studied it and now was recommending art too. It consisted of more, but like always, Harry tended to zone out when stuff got technical.

All right, he may be called a bad friend for not listening to his friend's hobbies and occupation, but then, Niall was clearly the worst friend between the two of of them.

In conclusion, Niall was the worst friend and would have to be demoted from his 'best friend' position.

It was on Monday that Niall had announced that he would be going someplace and Harry would have to tag along. There was no way out, he insisted. Harry had a history of sitting at home during weekends while binge watching Netflix and baking cookies. He was somewhat happy with that routine, even if Niall was displeased. Hence Niall, his best friend and flatmate, insisted to the point of being bothersome and Harry had to give in and wear his best clothes and leave his flat for once in the blue moon. He wasn't told where they were headed and naturally, Harry assumed it would be either some fancy party or the pub nearby. So as he rifled through his clothes, he decided to wear his less worn, third date outfit that hadn't been worn in the past five months. He stuck out like a sore thumb. He was wearing a blue blouse that he had read was pale turquoise in colour and was made of a slightly sparkly but sheer material, with an elaborate bow on the front. It didn't look sheer from afar, but under the right light, one could see Harry's tattoos and they could be seen now in a place that was not appropriate to be showing tattoos. He was also wearing cream trousers that fit just right around the bum, complete with his special rainbow bee Gucci shoes. Sure it was too fancy an outfit but it was his 'getting laid classily' outfit, so of course it was. It might be fancy enough to wear in this place, if his blouse wasn't sheer. So right now, he also looked a little slutty, eye catching and garnering disdain from most people. And unwanted appreciation as well. He was simply in the wrong place.