“What happened in here?”
The three boys looked up from where they were lying on the paint splattered sheet that covered the floor as Anne questioned them.
“Paint fight,” it was Harry who replied. “It’s all Liam’s fault.”
“Come on,” Anne shooed them up. “The fumes are going to go to your heads if you stay in here, let’s go.” She pushed open a few windows as the boys shuffled out of the room. The door snapped shut behind her and the four of them were left in the hallway. “Shirts,” Anne chided and Niall watched as Harry and Liam obeyed immediately, pulling the paint covered clothing up and over their heads. He was staring, but he couldn’t help it. Harry had been hiding quite the body underneath his black tee-shirt. His torso was long and lean, defined by the tantalizing ridges of his abs, and ended in a subtly perfect V of his hips. His jeans were hanging low on his barely-there hips and Niall’s eyes hungrily took in the waistband of his Abercrombie and Fitch boxers.
“You too,” Anne held out a hand to Niall. “We don’t want anyone getting paint on any of these walls; that would be a disaster.”
Niall looked up at her with wide eyes, his fingers playing with the hem of his shirt but not making a move to take it off. “The paint is dry,” he finally murmured, eyes drifting down to land on his feet.
He could feel the curious gaze of Liam on the side of his face and he blushed lightly, wishing they would just drop it.
“Harry go get him a clean shirt,” Anne finally nudged her son. “Is that all right hun?”
Niall nodded as Harry slipped into a room down the hall and returned with a white Jack Wills shirt in his hand. He held it out to Niall silently and the other boy took it, turning his back before shedding his own shirt and pulling on Harry’s. He handed his shirt silently to Anne and she disappeared, leaving the three boys alone.
“What was that about?” Liam wasn’t trying to be mean, he was just curious. “We saw you completely naked yesterday.”
“That’s different,” Niall whispered as he twisted the edge of Harry’s shirt between his fingers. “That’s art.”
“See!” Harry’s outburst surprised Niall into looking up. The curly haired boy was pointing at Liam, his eyes dancing and a satisfied smirk on his face. “Liking something from an artistic standpoint is different than liking it cause you like it. I told you. Like the eyes.”
“I don’t think that’s what he meant Harry.”
But Harry was dying to get his point across, even if he didn’t quite know how to explain it. “No Liam, it is the same. Like when I told you I liked you lips. I liked them because I was looking at them as something to draw. If I was looking at them in an admiration sort of way, I wouldn’t have told you. Because that implies something else. But from an art way, it’s all right.” He turned to Niall, his hand flapping to indicate the other boy. “And when Niall is in the middle of the room naked and we’re all looking at him it’s fine because we aren’t looking at him as a person, but as something to draw. If he were to get naked right now, it would be weird. Because it’s not art anymore. It’s him and his body and us staring at him and judging him and that’s not the same.”
“If he was to get naked right now, here in the hallway, I know you would want to draw him Harry. You look at everything like it’s art. So don’t say it’s different.”
“It is different!” Harry insisted. “Because to Niall it’s not art anymore. To him it’s normal life. If we went into my room and I got out a sketchbook and asked him to take off his clothes it would be different, cause it would be like art again. But taking off his shirt to change isn’t art. It’s just him and his body and us watching,” Harry was getting frustrated. Why didn’t Liam understand?
The green eyed boy turned to Niall, desperate to prove his point. “When we were in the classroom and you were naked, what would you have done if I told you I thought you were really attractive?”
Niall shrugged, “Said thank you?”
“Would it have been weird?”
Niall shook his head, “No, cause I’m supposed to be attractive in some way to the artists, or they wouldn’t want to draw me.”
“Now if I were to tell you right now that I thought you were really attractive, would it be different?”
“Well yeah,” Niall blushed. “Cause if you did it now then I would think you liked me or something. Because I don’t need to be attractive to you anymore.”
Harry beamed, “See Liam? It’s different. It’s not art anymore. Now it’s just him.”
Harry suddenly seemed to remember something else, “Oh and yesterday after class I told him I liked his face. Today he asked me if I liked it from an artistic point of view or because I think he’s attractive. I said both.” Harry glanced at Niall for a second, “When I said it yesterday I meant it was interesting to draw and I was intrigued. But when he asked at Louis’ I said both because I had meant it in an artistic way the day before, but today I meant it in the other way. Because we weren’t doing art anymore.”
Liam’s gaze flickered between Niall and Harry. He understood what his friend was trying to say, but at the same time had no idea what the younger boy was talking about. He didn’t get why Niall taking off his shirt in front of them was such a big deal, when they had seen a whole lot more than just his chest yesterday. But Niall and Harry seemed to understand why it was different, so Liam just shrugged. “All right,” he figured agreeing would be more harmless than trying to get Harry to explain it to him again. Maybe you had to be an artist to get it. Liam only took art classes to humor Harry. But his answer seemed to satisfy his best friend, so Liam returned the smile the younger boy tossed his way.
“Liam love are you spending the night?” Anne’s voice broke them out of their argument.
Liam glanced at Harry, who nodded, and called back, “Yeah.”
“Is Niall?”
The other two boys turned to the blonde who shook his head. He didn’t want to intrude. “I should go back to Louis’ now.” He glanced down at the soft shirt that draped his body, “I’ll bring this back to you on Tuesday.”
Harry nodded and watched as Niall hurried towards the stairs, his hands in his pockets and some blue steaks still in his thick hair.
“Hey Niall?”
The boy turned at Harry’s voice, one foot poised at the top of the steps, “Yeah?”
Harry smiled slightly, his lips tugging up in the left corner and revealing the dimpled slices in his cheeks, “I think you’re really attractive.”
Then he grabbed Liam’s hand and pulled his friend away, in to one of the rooms down the hall, leaving Niall alone and blushing.
