✓ lights /styles au/

1 Red

sometimes my insensitivity shows and i'm sorry because when we met, i couldn't help but feel your eyes and i just had to know what color they were.

Harry was standing in the middle of the art gallery he'd been going to for a while now. He kept his head down, eyes facing the floor because of how bright the lights around him were.

His doctor told him when he was thirteen years old that though he could only see shadows and lights and colors. That was fine and all considering the alternative was being completely blind. He was told that by the age of twenty five, he'd only see while he slept (until he'd forget all that he's seen). He didn't mind much because the lights he did see were always so blinding.

He'd always end up having to put his dark glasses on, but he'd decided to follow through on this specific day.

His white cane was folded and tucked into the pocket of his jumper, fingers of his right hand clutching onto it as his left one grazed the shoulders of the people around him, though his friend's arm was hooked around his neck so he didn't really have to guide himself around the large place.

He didn't have it in him to tell Niall to let him go. Instead, he allowed him to lead him around the art gallery. Niall had been a little sensitive toward him lately and Harry decided that he'd have to sit him down later that night to ask him why.

He didn't want Niall to waste his time driving him home and walking him to his door. He wanted him to drive off as soon as he stepped out of the car because that was what he always did.

Niall stopped walking and Harry rolled his eyes as he allowed him to turn his back so he was facing the wall where he assumed a painting was hanging. He squinted his eyes to rid the many glares. The lights were really bright and though he didn't know what color they were, he knew they were the brightest ones. They were bright and pure and reminded him of emptiness.

"Mmm, there's a really nice one right in front of you," Niall breathed. Harry winced as his breath fanned out against the side of his face.

"Told you to stop breathing on me all the time, Niall." Harry turned his head to the side and let out an exasperated sigh, eyes burning with the pressure of all the lights. He bowed his head and felt Niall nod his head beside him before disconnecting his arm from his neck. Harry licked his lips. "How close are we?"

"Not very. Don't you hear the girl talking? She's got a whole group around her. Think she's describing it or something."

"Then maybe we should listen."

"Nah," Niall laughed, tugging on his sleeve so they could both get a better listen. "Maybe you should listen. I can see it pretty well."

"The different shades of red clash so elegantly in each corner of the painting to symbolize anger and-" Harry heard the girl for just a split second before he felt his friend's elbow jab into his side, followed by a soft giggle that made Harry crack a smile.

"Different shades of red clash so elegantly," Niall mimicked. Harry turned toward him, though it wasn't really needed because he couldn't even pretend to know his expression.

He pushed his glasses atop his head so they were no longer falling down. His smile widened as he estimated exactly where Niall's eyes were and did his best imitation of looking into them. He'd gotten better at things like that; gotten better at lying and pretending. "It looks more like orange to me," Harry bit his lip to keep from smiling after the words left his mouth.