The Artist

3.

"This one here, I got when I was seventeen." Harry said pointing at his stomach. There was a giant butterfly in black ink sketched into his skin. Louis stared at his flat tummy, almost tempted to trace the outline of the figure, but kept his hands grasping his knees.

"Wow," was all he could say.

Harry turned his side to Louis and pointed to the empty bird cage just below his armpit. The ship on his arm was drawn neatly and looked magnificent on his glowing skin. There was a heart and a screw just above that, and countless others all over his body. After he modeled all of his artwork for Louis, he plopped back on the sofa with a smug grin.

"Are you satisfied?" Harry joked as he saw Louis nearly drooling. Louis perked up and sat up straight. He was satisfied. He had barely known this exquisite man for only ten or so hours, and he felt he had known his from way back.

"You have very beautiful work, Harry. You should tell me the name of your artist. I'm looking to get some work done myself." Louis smiled. Harry's eyes brightened at his words. He started to laugh, but held in as much as he could.

"Well," he said, "truth is, I draw all of my own work. I just take it in to be placed and inked."

"You're kidding?" Louis cocked an eyebrow. "You're telling me that all of your tattoos are your handiwork?"

Harry nodded politely. "I can draw you anything you want. I mean, it's the least I can do since you saved my ass outside. And you're letting me stay the night."

He was? He hadn't remembered saying anything about letting Harry stay. All he had offered originally was some clean and dry clothes and a place to sit and talk for a while until Harry was situated. But he wasn't in any way going to throw him out now. It was too late and he was slightly excited that he'd be having company.

"You can sleep here on the couch, or you can have my bed for the night. It doesn't matter to me, really."

"Thank you." Harry whispered. "I'll just sleep on the couch. I know you've probably got work in the morning, so I don't want you to be uncomfortable when you get up."

Louis wanted to argue and tell him that he could have the bed. Harry wasn't being forced to stay on the couch. He didn't want to make Harry uncomfortable, but he would accept his decision. Louis sighed and hopped off the couch.

"I'll get you some blankets and pillows, if you'd like." He took off down the hall and went through his linen closet. Harry had followed.

"Do you want thick or thin?" Louis held up a fleece blanket and what looked like a sheer bed sheet. Harry looked back and forth between the two until his eyes finally rested on the sheet. Louis handed him the blanket and peeked around for an extra pillow.

"Louis, you don't have to go through all this trouble for me. It's not that big a deal."

"To me it is," Louis said flatly.

Harry slowly backed away with the pillow and sheet and into the living room again. Louis watched as Harry made himself a bed. He looked so helpless. "Harry, let me do it." He stormed through the hall and took the sheet from Harry's hands.

"Louis..."

Without another word, Louis fixed up a comfy space on the couch for Harry and left to the kitchen. Harry stood alone and bewildered. Louis' attitude and demeanor had completely changed, and he wasn't going to aggravate him even more.

He watched as Louis went through the cupboards and pulled out a teacup and a box of tea bags. Even though the kitchen was farther away, the heat from the boiling teapot was filling in the room. Harry pushed his hair back with his fingers and sat on his makeshift bed. Minutes later, Louis had brought him a cup of tea and left it on the coffee table.

"Goodnight, Harry. TV's there if you want to watch something. See you tomorrow." With a wave, Louis left and fell into the comfort of his own bed. The sheets were soft and thin, the pillows were at just the perfect fluffiness. He'd fall into a deep sleep sooner or later.

It was a quarter after three. Harry laid on his back staring up at the ceiling fan contemplating whether or not to get up and walk out the front door. He couldn't put his finger on it--what was Louis' deal? Becoming restless, he lifted himself up off the bed and shuffled into the hallway. He looked for the bathroom, but stumbled over his own tired legs and fell into Louis' room.

He'd made enough noise to make Louis jump up in his bed. "Harry, what the hell are you doing? Do you know how late it is?"

Harry stood up and apologized. "I was just trying to find the bathroom. I didn't mean to wake you." Louis waved Harry away, and rolled back into the covers. But Harry didn't move from his place, and Louis could hear his faint breathing.

"Harry, you know you don't have to wait for my permission to leave the room? The bathroom is down-"

"Louis, can I sleep in here with you?"

Louis' mouth was open. What? He looked at Harry in confusion and hesitated to answer. "Harry..."

"I'm not trying to complain or anything, I just don't especially like sleeping by myself. I promise I won't bother you." His face looked so sad and scared. Louis was ready to say no. "Please, Louis?"

"Ugh, fine." He moved to the opposite side of the bed to make room for Harry. Harry shuffled towards the bed and crawled up beside Louis.

Their backs were to one another, their ankles were almost entwined. Louis felt Harry's leg brush against his and shivers were sent through him. He wanted to wrap their legs together, but didn't want to make the sleeping arrangement even more awkward.

Instead of stressing out over touching limbs, Louis rested his head in his pillow and closed his eyes.