Artwork [h.s]

twenty-four

"Oh yeah that's awful" he mused, giving me a somewhat playful glance from where he was sitting against the headboard.

I looked down to escape his glance, my hands over my crossed legs. Because of how we were sitting, my knees were grazing his thigh, not close enough to touch it, but close enough for me to feel the warmth radiating from his body. "I should continue my drawing" I breathed, a faint defeat in my voice as I took the paper from where I'd left it lying next to me when Harry had first spoken. I pushed myself harder against the wall to create some distance between us, looking down to avoid his gaze that I was so sure he was trying to make eye contact with.

He moved forward and lay down as he'd done the day before, staring at the ceiling as the sound of scratching on paper resumed.

I spied him between my eyelashes, biting my lower lip to keep a smile from showing on my face. I shook my head, trying to keep any distracting thoughts out of my mind. I could've thought about what had happened later when I was alone, because I knew that if I'd done it while he was still around, my brain would've turned to mush and my judgement would've been biased.

I took a deep breath and took another paper, trying to mix colours together in hopes of getting the exact shade of blue of the shirt he was wearing. I sighed when the tint seemed to be way too light, so I added a little black, hoping to get the perfect colour. I mixed it and looked at his shirt, before looking back at it with a frown. There was something that wasn't quite right about it, but I couldn't tell what it was. Maybe I should've added some purple? Or some more black. What about a little bit of a lighter shade of blue?

I was that concentrated on what I was doing what I didn't even notice the way the bed moved slightly as Harry propped himself up on his elbows.

"It needs some white."

I looked up all of sudden at the deep sound of his voice. "What?"

"That" he said, motioning at the sheet with a finger, "needs some white."

I furrowed my eyebrows. "No it doesn't." I would've seen it if it needed white, I'd been doing that kind of thing for years.

He didn't say anything, opting to just stare at me instead.

I sighed, already knowing that I couldn't have kept myself from giving in. "Alright. But if it gets ruined it's your fault" I murmured, taking just a little white, not more than the tip of a pencil, and putting it into the mix, mixing it and looking at the final result, my mouth falling open when I realised that the colour was exactly the same one of the shirt he was wearing. "How did you do that?" I asked, looking up at him with a frown on my face.

He shrugged. "My mum was a painter, I used to hang out in her studio when I was younger" he said, a hint of something I couldn't recognise in his voice.

"Was? She isn't anymore?" I asked him, unable to mask the curiosity in my voice. With that new piece of information, I wondered if he'd ever noticed something wrong in the way I drew, without pointing it out.

"Something like that." He lay down again right after, making me understand that any continuation of that conversation would've been unwanted.

I sighed, going back to minding my business.

I kept drawing for about another half an hour with no interruptions, wondering about what Harry had said. I just couldn't understand why he had to be so mysterious about everything. Every time he opened his mouth to share something I was left wondering even more than before. It wasn't fair.

I put the drawing on the side, his shirt half coloured and half still white, staring at the white couch on the other side of the room. I felt as if I was going crazy. Way too many things had happened that day, and I felt as if I couldn't keep up with them all.