blue surrender [l.s.]

3. there's still a little bit of you laced with my doubt

hiiiiiii so even tho i didn't get 5 votes last chapter, im posting this anyway. also in case u can't tell, the chapter names are lyrics from different songs. would u like me to start putting the song names before or after each chapter? this one is cannonball, the cover by little mix. xx

***

His painting is done the night before the day it's due, and Harry's quite proud of it.

It's a sunset, but the sun fades into a midnight sky. The setting sun and rising moon clash perfectly, creating a ball of light. It has Harry calling the piece Lux Aeterna, after his favorite music piece. It means Light Eternal in Latin.

It's no surprise that Harry begins humming the song in the shower, the different language not fit for his voice, but he just hums the foreign words to himself.

"Lux aeterna..." he doesn't bother singing the rest because he knows he'll sound terrible. His mother and sister told him he had a lovely voice, but he never cared all that much. He just likes listening to Mozart and Tchaikovsky late at night, and he especially loves painting while doing so. Maybe he'll do that again soon.

He gets out of the shower and dresses himself, drying his hair haphazardly along the way. He goes to his Monday classes, listening to Mozart today.

Confidence overtakes him when he walks into Visual Arts and turns in his project, which of course, his professor praises him for. "Brilliant, Harry. What's the hidden emotion behind this?"

"Just that every day is the same for me. Every sunset turns into another morning sooner or later, and I live by it every day. By the sunset, that is, though we all do; we just don't know it," Harry rambles with pride.

"I don't know how you do it, Harry. Great work, but I wish you had have entered your last piece into the art show a couple nights ago. Zayn Malik was there!"

Harry just smirks to himself. He knows Zayn Malik was there. "I'll definitely think about it next show?"

"Yes! The next show is in a month, at the same place I told you. Lincoln Hall,"

"I got it. I'll let you know," Harry sits in his seat after parting with his professor.

"Class! We have a very, very special guest today. He has made two hundred eighty-three works and counting, he has worked with Zayn Malik," the professor grins widely, and Harry inwardly groans.

This better not be-

"Ladies and gentlemen, I am beyond honored to present to you, our guest speaker, Louis Tomlinson," the professor claps too loud, and the class joins him.

Well, fuck. Mozart in his car earlier today did not prepare him for this.

"Thank you, Professor Richards," Louis fucking Tomlinson comes in, shakes the professor's hand, and glances around the room. He looks a lot more pleasant in front of such a large group of people. "Hello, everyone, I'm Louis Tomlinson. I'm going to talk to you about, well, art," he chuckles, and the class laughs lowly. (Except Harry. Harry doesn't laugh. He doesn't like Louis or his beautiful face. Shit.) "So, any questions?"

A girl with fiery red hair raises her hand toward the front, and Harry immediately rolls his eyes. Fucking Tracy always has fucking questions. "Hi, Mr. Tomlinson, I'm a really big fan," like hell she is. "my question is just... how do you start a piece?"

"Hello, um," Louis starts, getting her name from her and continuing, "Tracy. Hi. Thank you. So, your question is how do I start a piece?" he asks her, and she nods, "great question. Well, I usually just think about the greater things in my life. Like, for example, when I made Heart of Hearts, I thought about my mother. She has always been my support system, and she has always loved me, no matter what I told her. So, just think of something that makes you happy, and create what you think best portrays that."