Dear Iris [h.s]

chapter forty four.

*i accidentally posted the unedited version of this chapter and wattpad won't let me change it...so please just ignore every mistake you see. I'm warning you now, this is a mess and I apologise.

Harry Styles

I'm so happy.

I never thought I'd say that and mean it, but at this moment in time, I genuinely am really happy. Iris is sitting in my lap, my hands around her waist whilst she finished the painting I kind of fucked up. She did try to help me fix it, made me hold the paintbrush and put her hand over mines to guide me, but eventually realised I'll never have her talent no matter how many times she tells me to 'just blend it'

There's something so captivating about her sitting there, her hair thrown back messily with her pencil tucked behind her ear, painting away with all the concentration in the world. I've never been more in awe of somebody in my life.

Iris really did do all of the work, despite the fact I asked her if she'd teach me how to paint. I never understood just how difficult it was until now, and suddenly the respect I already had for her has doubled. Her family should come down here and try to paint one of her pictures, then they'd realise just how much work and time she puts into it.

The butterfly was finished and she pulled back with a satisfied smile on her face, and somehow, painted all over her wrist and hands, because apparently she doesn't care about getting it everywhere, which I've kind of gotten used to by now.

"See?" She said, placing her hands over mine after disregarding her paintbrush into the pot of water, "You didn't ruin it."

"Iris," I chuckled, my head resting on her shoulder. "You had to fix everything I did and that was just three blue splodges. Do not give me any credit for that."

"Those three blue splodges were great base colours." Iris told me in the most uplifting way possible.

I hadn't really meant to say it out loud when I told her that the fact she sees the good in everything is my favourite thing about her, but that was no word of a lie. I think it's so sweet and the fact she's been through what she has, to still look at life with the most positive mindset just goes to show how big a heart she has.

Her happiness rubs off on me, it really does. We've spent a good amount of time together recently and I keep catching myself thinking about things in the way that Iris would. Being in her company makes me feel so much happier and it's just nice to be in the company of somebody who doesn't make me feel like an absolute fool.

She kissed me on the cheek and shot up to make herself a cup of tea, I didn't want one to start with, however Iris felt bad making one for herself and nobody else, so changed my mind and decided that I'd have a cup of tea too.

Iris makes the best cup of tea, she makes the best jam, the best paintings and to be honest, I don't really know if this woman even has any flaws. Her jam really is the best thing ever, I mean, how does somebody make it taste better than the stuff you buy in shops?

For a while we sat and spoke about rubbish, the sky outside fell into darkness as Iris tidied some of her stuff away, attempted to anyway. I like the clutter in her studio, i think it fits the fact she's an artist and it isn't messy clutter. I had a book with me, so I sat on her couch reading that, or pretending to. I couldn't really stop looking at her and if it wasn't for the fact that the book I was reading is for an article I'd have tossed it aside in a minute.

It's strange that being able to sit here and read, as she does all her little toying up jobs, makes me feel a sense of joy. It's hard to explain, maybe it's just the fact that it feels as though we're on the same page about having eachothers company. I could sit here for hours without actually talking to Iris, I just like being in her company because it makes me feel comfortable.