Red String [h.s] (Completed)

Chapter 68

"I could make you happy
Make your dreams come true
Nothing that I wouldn't do
Go to the ends of the earth for you
To make you feel my love
To make you feel my love"

"It's nice to see you too," she chides him before putting her arms around him in a hug. He returns the hug before pulling back to look at her face.

"What are you doing here?" he repeats himself.

"Someone asked me for some help," she says, winking at him.

Harry looks at her quizzically, not understanding what she means.

"Come on," she instructs him, looping her arm in his. Anne pats his arm reassuringly. She is quite amused by the look of confusion on his face. He is always so in control of everything, that it's nice to take it away every now and again. He's been a provider for their family from such a young age and she is grateful for that but with all that responsibility comes anxious thoughts. Forever making sure he continues his success and earnings to provide the life he thinks his family deserves. She wishes he had more time to relax and enjoy life. She thinks the person he is about to see gives him that.

They walk out of the main exhibition and down a short hallway and stop at the entryway to another room.

"My beautiful boy. This last nine months something changed with you. Don't get me wrong, I thought you were pretty great before but it was like a switch flipped and you went from great to exceptional. In all areas of your life you started to excel. You became a better friend, a better brother, a better son, a better musician. And I think it all has to do with one person."

Harry is digesting his mom's kind words and she turns them towards the darkened room.

"Go on," she directs him, gesturing that he should walk in. The lights are off in the large room and he looks at his mum like she is crazy. Suddenly, the lights flicker on and Harry turns away from her and looks. He completely forgets that she is there in that moment as his mouth drops open at the sight he is seeing. She releases his arm and he steps into the room, as if he doesn't have control over his feet anymore. Like he is being pulled into the room by some invisible force.

The walls are full of photographs and paintings. There are dozens and dozens of them, ranging in size from large paintings nearly four feet tall to small framed sketches that are the size of a post-it. There are photographs that have been blown up on canvas that are two feet wide. The entire room is covered. Every wall is full and not arranged artfully but rather cluttered together because of the sheer volume. There's even Polaroids hanging from wire from the ceiling. And every single one has Harry's face on it. 

The emotions on his face are different in each one. There's one painting where he looks so sad and full of anguish. In another, he's never seen himself look more joyful. He sees photographs that he never realized she took. A photo from her Paris apartment of him cooking. Another, from their picnic, of him sleeping. He sees photographs from when him and Amy went walking in Paris. He can tell in the pictures which ones he knew she was taking and which ones are candids. In the ones he knew, he can see his eyes flirting with her. And in the ones he didn't, there's a relaxed state to his face. As if he was on day three of a really great vacation. He knows that's how Amy makes him feel: relaxed, calm, happy.

He hears heel clicks on the floor again and this time he knows they're not from his mum. He knows because the atmosphere in the room has shifted. He feels his skin tingle knowing she is near. His heart starts beating harder and he's positive she's able to hear it. He turns his body to face her and takes in the most exquisite sight he has seen in five months.