Fix You ✧ ((Harry Styles/Selena Gomez))

24. Pictures Of You

sorry this is short but made in the am kILLED ME (so does college but in different ways)
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Harry's POV: 

Come on...Come on princess, pick up...

When I'm greeted with the familiar sound of her voicemail, I sigh in frustration, hanging up once more. My eyes avert to the ripped envelope--I wanted her to be here with me but I couldn't get in contact with her. Her big brother guarding her home also limited my access to her beautiful self. I'm elated but I just don't feel complete, not without her sharing the joy with me. Drumming with my fingers, I manage to find the strength to get up to get my keys ready for the drive to school. My sight lands on the envelope once more before an idea strikes me. With newfound energy, I ruffle through its contents, taking everything out and placing it in my backpack.

Selena's POV: 

The minute my annoying alarm blares, I groan, not wanting to leave my sweet cocoon of blankets and warmth. Glancing at the date on the calendar briefly, I shut my eyes again. Today, letters of early acceptances begin sending out. Seeing my phone already have 5 missed calls just this morning, I knew who it was exactly. I want to comfort him if it were bad news and I want to congratulate him if it were good news, but I just can't get over my pride to hear from him and find out the results. I know it's selfish and a terrible reason to not reach out but I'm a cold person and I already knew the minute he demanded to be a presence in my life that it would be incredibly difficult for me to change into a normal compassionate person all of a sudden. Pulling my blankets over my head, I scream into the soft material, wondering why I'm such a complicated person. After lying here for a few extra minutes, I find all my willpower to push myself off the bed and change for school. Throwing on my usual black hoodie over a plain tee and jeans, I skateboard towards school. 

With a few minutes to spare, I wheel in, weaving through the crowd, leaning back and forth to maintain my balance. I halt at the front of my locker, foot pushing down to cause the board to jump up and into my right hand. Ignoring the stares of people, I slowly twist my locker combination, just about ready to slam my head against the metal out of frustration; however, to my surprise, I'm greeted by a million slips falling out. What the fuck? Bending down, I scramble to shuffle the items closer to my hands and pick them up. They're photographs. 

Of me.

There are multiple shots of me, all from different angles and different expressions--each one with a number on them and the date on the back. When I seem to pick up on the recurring pattern, I flip through the images, finding the first one. It's a picture of me sketching alone at the lunch table usually occupied by me from a distance. The second one is me looking completely disinterested at my locker, most likely about to ditch class. As I go through them numerically, I see happier and closer pictures. A part of me wants to glance around and see the culprit who I already have an inkling of yet another part of me is timid and much too cowardly--as much as I want to believe I'm anything but that. Deciding to embrace my inner fear, I keep my gaze focused on the locker in front of me, straightening the photos, moving the edges around my nimble hands until they are in a nice stack with no odd edges sticking out, all the height even. When I finish, I simply push them against the inside of my locker, about to pull out my textbook only to notice a tri-folded letter. 

Hesistantly, I reach for it and slowly open the paper up.

"Prompt: Capture the beauty of something for a hundred days and tell a story." 

Name: Harry Styles
Brief Summary Entry (100 words) Note: Your photos should do the story-telling but feel free to leave an explanation:  She was beautiful; she was beautiful not by looks (though she has a killer smile and heartfelt eyes that make my knees go weak) but by her thoughts, passion, and soul. Anything she consumed became a work of art. She can even make sadness and anger beautiful and as long as she was somewhere in the distance near me, I didn't mind tears or heartbreak--I admired it. I admired it like how I admire everything she does and everything she is. I saw pieces of her, her heart--where love resides--and what can be more beautiful than the story of this?

Before I can even process it all, two strong arms wrap around my waist, the familiarity warm and welcoming.

Harry's POV: 

I place another letter in her palm, keeping my tight grasp on her, afraid to let her go. She slowly unfolds the second piece of paper as I dip my chin to rest in the crook between her neck and shoulder. 

"You...got in," she breathes out softly, a tiny smile playing at the curve of her lip.

 "How could I not? My subject was stunning," I joke, knowing she's going to roll her eyes in 3..2..1..

There it goes. 

Oh, how I missed it. 

"I hate how you make me want things I never wanted before," she mutters. I smile. I don't exactly know what she means, as I never really do since she's vague and guarded, but her leaning into my touch tells me it's not a bad thing. 

Niall's POV: 

"You owe me five pounds, Nialler," Louis smirks while I frown. Liam and Zayn simply chuckles, not even going to bother helping me get out of this bet I lost. We're all watching the two be all cuddly and shit from afar, leaning against the wall and occasionally ducking behind when we sense them looking around their surroundings, though they seem too wrapped up in each other to care.

"No offense Niall, but you're an idiot if you didn't think they'd be on good terms again." 

"I took a chonce, okay?"