I Wished I Said It (Larry Stylinson)

Chapter 10

Sorry about the late update! I'm going through a bit of a writer's block and I can't even write Chapter 11 and 12 :( But I'm gonna try today. I need to finish this fic before school starts. That was goal for this year :p Enjoy!

Comment/Fan/Vote? Feedback is wanted!

*

Liam swiftly turned his brush to the side, smearing the red colour on top of his brilliant and bright yellow. The portrait was coming out wonderful. Warm paints splattered over the normal white.

New colours were made. A velvet red pinkish. A muddy yellow with a hint of orange. It was all a beautiful master piece.

The brown-eyed boy always comes to this place to relax. The enormous art museum that provided him classes to express his lingering feelings.

And right now, what he felt was pure anger towards the curly-haired boy who was stealing his love. He felt love for his Louis, the light delicate pink dots of his art showing it. He was feeling a bit of sad, the soft baby blue popping out on the edges of the board ever so elegantly.

It was just a way of showing his emotions without venting to someone who he didn’t know or had no idea what he was going through.

Liam was too busy humming lowly to himself that he didn’t notice the footsteps creeping by in the hallway and stopping at the doorway of his classroom.

*

Zayn was tired of hearing Harry’s grunting and groaning about this ‘mistake’. The boy just kept saying how stupid he was to commit such thing and was at Zayn’s for company.

But how in the world can Zayn help him if Harry won’t even tell him what this ‘mistake’ is about?!

So wanting to leave the man to his own personal thoughts, the boy with pitch black eyes left the flat, and walked to his favorite art museum.

As his black combat boots hit the concrete of the sidewalk on the cloudy day of usual London, Zayn thought about Harry’s situation.

What’s bothering him so much? What happened between him and Louis? Well…at least he thinks it’s Lou. He doesn’t even have a good idea anymore ever since Harry had blocked out him and Niall from his new arranged marriage life. It bothered him a lot every time Harry seemed in a intense thought that had him gripping his desk hard enough make his knuckles white. It also scared him shitless to see his best friend in that state.

Zayn has never seen him this troubled.

Well, not until this arranged marriage was formed by the Tomlinson’s and Styles’.

He was sure that both families weren’t even aware of the boys feelings at this point, both groups too worried about their financial living.

That was so shameless.

The boy with raven black hair sighed and walked up the steps to the brown museum. 

He had many wonderful memories here in this place. Like when he first came in here as a child with his mum. The playful tricks he played with the visitors here with his sister. The inspiring paintings that filled him with a new spirit to enjoy life to the fullest and others that kind of made him open his eyes.

It was great and it still is.

Zayn explored all the places and knew when the place was busy and when it wasn’t so it was a surprise when he heard soft humming from a usually empty room all the way in the back.

He walked slowly to through the corridor and stopped by the doorway, peering in to see a young man painting furiously, red and black being flicked on the board. But what amazed Zayn was the young man’s beautiful humming. So melodic and calm, the very opposite of his painting.