Canyon Moon | H.S.

Come Alive (47)

"What's going on in your brain, hey, Angel?" I hear Harry's voice from the doorway to the studio and I spin around to face him.

"How long have you been standing there?" I ask, making him chuckle.

"At least five minutes." He says, running a hand through his hair. He's dressed super casually in joggers and a graphic t-shirt, and he looks utterly adorable. "You've been staring at a blank canvas the entire time."

I glance at his face, frowning slightly at the bags under his eyes. He's been rehearsing almost non-stop since we got back from London, preparing to go on tour in February. He's doing another five months, touring across the world, and I get to go with him. 

I've been buzzing ever since he asked me to come. He didn't need to, the answer was always going to be yes, but seeing how happy he got when I got excited, made me even happier. It was a very hyper day to say the least.

"You look tired, babe," I say, going over and brushing the hair out his face, "you need to go and rest."

"Not until you tell me why you're staring at a blank canvas." He grabs my arms and wraps them around his waist, placing a kiss to my forehead.

"I think I've come up with an idea." I say into his chest.

"You think?"

"Yeah... but I don't know if it's ridiculous or not." I shrug slightly, trying to downplay it. In reality, this idea struck me and I can't stop thinking about it, but it's social media based, and I'm awful at knowing whether things like that are actually feasible.

"Well, I can't help you unless you tell me." I pull away from him and look back at my blank canvas.

"I keep seeing comments on twitter and stuff..." I begin, my chest tightening as my brain whirls with the same thoughts I've been having for days now, "young girls mainly, but boys too, putting themselves down with, like, backhanded compliments. They don't realise they're doing it, but they'll comment things like "you're so pretty, I wish I didn't have horrible acne" and stuff like that, and it honestly breaks my heart."

Some of the girls especially can't be more than twelve years old, and yet they're already finding flaws with themselves. Self-love is a painful and complicated journey, I know it takes time to really learn how to love yourself, but my eyes sting every time I read a comment like that.

"I want to do something, and I know that's a pretty sweeping statement, but I started thinking, you know, what can I actually do?"

My first answer was, not much, to be honest, but then I started ignoring the nasty voice in the back of my head and started thinking more clearly. I'm selling portraits fairly regularly now on my website. Obviously it takes a while to do them and get them shipped out, but everyone who's bought one has been really lovely and it's been a really positive experience overall.

"I was thinking, what if I did a whole series of portraits, paintings that show people's insecurities. Things like acne or stretch marks, or people with large noses or jiggly tummies. Cellulite and scars and all the things that make people human but the media and photoshop and stuff tells them it's a flaw. I want to paint these portraits, showing how beautiful and real these things are."

I want people to see their insecurities represented. To be celebrated.

"Maybe then my portraits can be scanned and made digital, and prints and copies and stuff can be made and sold, and some of the proceeds, if it does well, I guess, but some of the proceeds can go to charities and communities and to supporting people that need it. Like the charity that sends sanitary products to girls in Africa who have nothing for their periods. That's another one! Periods. The bloating that comes with it, showing that blood is not dirty or something to be ashamed of, that women should be celebrated and loved for what they go through every month. Pregnant women, who feel insecure about their stomachs and their breasts after literally giving birth to another human life."

I'm pacing up and down by now, my voice pretty loud. I realise what I'm doing and stop, trying to calm myself down. Harry hasn't said anything in a while, not that I've given him a chance to. I look over at him and his eyes are swimming.

"What?"

"You're so beautiful." He says softly. Did I hear him wrong? He walks over to me. "When you're passionate, you're so beautiful. You're literally glowing, your eyes- they're so bright." I smile slightly at his words and the touch of his hands on my shoulders.

"Thank you darling, but that's not very helpful to me." I say slightly sarcastically, making him chuckle softly.

"It's a brilliant idea, Natalie, genuinely. You're going to help a lot of people with this." My breath catches.

"Really?"

"Yes really! I'm going to chat to Jeff and see if he can get someone to head this up for you, the business side of things anyway. We'll get together a group of people and you can tell them all exactly what you've told me. We'll get you someone in charge of the website, promoting it, the digitising and production side of things, and I'll back you all the way, with money, promotion, motivation, moral support - whatever it is you need. We're gonna make your dream a reality."

I blink back the stinging feeling in my eyes and jump into his arms, wrapping myself into the biggest hug.

"What did I do to deserve you?" I mumble into his shoulder.

"Oh Angel, the world doesn't deserve you."

It takes me a while to calm down, getting worked up again as I start brainstorming ideas while Harry takes a nap.

"Are you excited for tour?" I ask over dinner.

"I am, yeah. A little bit nervous cause we're introducing some new stuff, but mostly excited."

"You don't need to be nervous," I say between bites, "everybody is going to love the new songs." He chuckles softly.

"Just because you like them doesn't mean everyone will, babe." I furrow my brow.

"It doesn't? Huh." He gives me a small smile.

"Are you excited?" He asks, and that's all it takes for the biggest smile to stretch across my face.

"Are you kidding? I'm so excited! You've literally described to me the perfect way to spend the next five months. A day of exploring a city, watching you be absolutely phenomenal, have hot and sweaty hotel room sex, and then sleep the whole following day while travelling."

He blushes slightly at my words, but I can't stop grinning.

"I'm really glad you're coming with me." He says, pinching his bottom lip between his fingers. "Every now and again on my first tour I'd spot someone in the audience who looked a bit like you, and my stomach dropped every time. I'm excited to have you actually in the audience."

I reach across the table and squeeze his hand.

"You'll be sick of me soon enough. I'll be screaming the loudest and shouting along to every word, dancing like crazy."

"Babe, you've just described every person at a concert." I place my hand on my chest.

"Are you saying I'm not special?"

"That's absolutely what I'm saying." He says, rolling his eyes. "Because being the one person in the audience who knows the songs I sing are actually about her, and getting to come backstage and kiss me while I'm all sweaty and jittery from adrenaline makes you not special at all."

"You say you're going to be sweaty? Babe, if you so much as glance at me when you sing Medicine, I'm going to be indecent."

He throws his head back and laughs at my remark, but I stay deadly serious.

"I'm not kidding."

"Oh, I know you aren't, Angel, but that only makes me want to do it more." My eyes widen in shock.

"Harry Styles you dirty bugger. Talking about getting me hot and bothered in public, unbelievable."

He rolls his eyes.

"Need I remind you who sucked me off in the bathroom of my managers house?" He asks with a cocky smile on his face.

"That was for the greater good," I say, my face getting hot, "we would have been murdered by your friends if you'd gone downstairs in the state you were."

"Touché mademoiselle. Touché."