Paint Me A Story ➳ Larry & Zouis

project i.

He glanced back at Harry's definition, then around the classroom again, all eyes on him.  "Oh, look here.  One person out of thirty five understood the purpose of the assignment.  Good job, Harry."

All eyes turned towards him in the back, then quickly back to their professor as he began reading it.

"Harry wrote, 'a pencil is a translator between the thoughts in your mind and the physical world around you.'  I think this deserves five stars, don't you all agree?" Louis asked.

None of them said a word.

He continued, "The purpose of this assignment was to make you think of the purpose, potential, and emotional aspects of a pencil.  It's more than just a writing utensil.  It gives your thoughts meaning.  You all could learn a thing or two from Harry." 

Harry flushed and stared down at his feet, not enjoying the unneeded attention.

Abruptly, Louis placed the papers on his desk and turned around to face the chalk board that stretched across the messy paint-covered walls.  He grabbed a piece of chalk and quickly wrote across the green surface.  It was one word.  Memories.

Louis grinned softly at the sea of blank faced students in front of him.  "Your first project this semester is to sketch me a picture of your favorite memory, using either charcoal or pencil, hence why I made you think about it.  When you think of 'happiness', what do you think of?  When were you truly happiest in life?  What memory sticks in your brain that, whenever it comes to your mind, you can't help but smile?"

And as soon as Louis said those words, Harry knew exactly what he was sketching for his project.

~

The next day, Louis's students began their projects.  He watched them, pitifully, as they tried to sketch out an image of their memory onto paper.  Most of them ended up scrapped, tossed into the garbage.  Then they tried again, and so on and so forth.

He saw many depictions of the same things— birthday parties, graduations, weddings, vacations, holidays, etc.  You know, those big, momentous moments in your life.  Louis had expected as much.  But, still, it bothered him how none of them drew pictures of really special moments.  Something that connected with them on an emotional level.

Something inside of him was itching to see what Harry was up to.

Mr. Tomlinson had walked up behind him, glanced over his sketchpad, where his charcoal pencil was vigorously flicking across in a crisscross of horizontal and vertical lines.  He kept pushing his messy head of hair behind his ear, as pieces of it were falling out of his blue bandana. 

His picture was just lines, so far, and Louis knew it was just in the 'rough draft' process.  He smiled down at his student, who finally noticed his presence, lifting up his face from his paper.

"Hey Harry," Louis hummed.  "This is really nice so far."

He nodded as if to say 'thanks'.

"You seem to be the only one who takes this course seriously," the professor continued.  "I really appreciate it, you know.  Your dedication and work ethic."

Harry bit his lip in response, giving him another short nod.

So with that, Louis went back and sat down at his desk at the front of his classroom, propping his legs up as his students continued working.  He forced himself to peel his eyes off of Harry in the back corner.  He didn't want to seem like too much of a creep.

A moment later, Louis's mobile buzzed quietly.  He immediately glanced at the screen.  He had three new texts, one of which was from his fiancé, Zayn.  He sighed happily under his breath as he unlocked his phone and read it over.