For Lovers Only - [A Zarry Stylik]©️

XXX- ZAYN'S BLOCK PARTY

Z,

Two days later

I held Jamie close to me as he slept in my arms. I had missed the sweet scent of his shampoo and the softness of his clothes. He slept peacefully without a care in the world, dreaming of pirate ships and adventures in a world far away. All I could do was hold him while he sailed. I closed my eyes with my arms wrapped around him, my nose in his hair and humming a soft lullaby.

With the help of the men, we spent the next two days, fixing the few last things that needed to be fixed around the house. The pool had been scraped clean, there was a fresh smell of cut grass in the air, and the deck was shiny and looked brand new with the new varnish coat. The paint on the outside of the house had dried, the windows changed and the doors too.

After that, we cleaned every trace of their presence: dust, old pieces of wood, glass, or stripes of paint. It went on until sunset. This old cottage by the sea was now something brand new. It smelled new too. I looked at it now as a new version of myself; as a new person, coming to light after everything that happened. This was going to be my house. Perhaps, this was going to be mine in Harry's house in the future.

I had put all my strength into this renovation; after all, it was the best exercise to just be focused on something else rather than Harry or Liam, and it had paid off very well. For two days, I spent most of the day outside working, not daring to come back into the bedroom where the bed still had our imprint. At night, I could still smell Harry on the pillow and the sheets. So intensely, I couldn't distinguish if he was there with me, or if I was just having wet dreams one right after the other. Let's just say I had a lot of fun by myself thinking of him.

When the renovation was officially done, the house was new; but quiet. I felt lonely. Calm, but lonely. I had gotten used to the movement and noises going around. Now, it was all quiet. Just me and my thoughts.

I looked around seeing the vivid memories of Harry and me around the house: eating together, cooking, reading side by side or cuddling.

"Tell me, did you stop painting altogether?"

He was facing the wall where my painting hung above the fireplace.

"Yes. I didn't have the inspiration, you know? It's easier for me to spot it in someone else, instead of myself."

"What inspires you?"

"It just comes. I don't force it. It can be quiet for months and then, like lightning, it happens."

"When was the last time you painted something?"

I squinted for a moment, searching my memory. The realisation hurt my soul.

"Before I got married."

The silence came between us with obvious presence. Harry stirred on top of me; I felt him wrap himself more into me.

"Well, have you tried looking for inspiration?"

"I have," I responded. "I didn't want to say anything, but since coming here, I had been having this...I don't know, itch, to create something. I just don't know what. I focused on working on the house, thinking it would be a good output, but the truth is I see something forming in my head. Colours. Lines. I see it, I just haven't translated it yet."

"Why not?"

My fingers caught a strand of Harry's hair, playing with it.

"I don't know."

"I think you should act on it, honey. If the inspiration strikes, you must take it."

I frowned slightly.