Until you came (Zarry) /English Version

57. My heart is beating faster than yours

I knock timidly, open the door and it takes my breath away.

It's not an office anymore I step into, it's a restaurant for two. Honestly. I've never seen anything like this before. If I were a woman, I would feel like a princess. I am really impressed. There is a smell of delicious food. For having breakfast time and an official meeting, Ben has made sure there is nothing missing. Wow.

In the middle of the room a stunning looking Ben Winston in a dark suit is standing and beaming at me.

"Harry." he breathes in my ear.

I'm so overwhelmed, I am lost for words. What should I do in case like that? Ben leaves no scope for my thoughts. Surprised by his welcoming, I blush and am still speechless.

"You can't imagine how much I've been looking forward to seeing you again.", he whispers into my ear and I smell an expensive cologne. He smells so good at all. "You say nothing at all. Don't you like it?" A slight disappointment is in his voice.

"Mr. Winston, uh Ben, I don't know what to say, to be honest," I admit.

"Oh, you don't have to, Harry. I thought I'd surprise you and...Oh, more about that later. Are you hungry?"

I nod gratefully, still totally impressed, that somebody puts in such a effort for me. "I'm starving."

"Well, take a seat, beautiful man." He adjusts my chair, takes a rose from the bouquet of flowers out of it and presents it to me with a promising smile.

Zayn

London is greeting me with rainy weather. Shortly after my arrival I get into a taxi which takes me to the hotel. While raindrops dripping off the window pane, I try to get some impressions of the metropolis. The weather is how I feel. It is bad, really bad even. 

In about two hours I have the appointment with Mr. Grimshaw and even look forward to it. He will cheer me up with his humor and I really need that. Harry hasn't contacted me and, frankly, I've given up making more calls. It's the way it is - fucked up.

The hotel is very close to the "Tate Gallery London" and I walk there. The air is brisk and clear and is blowing away all my gloomy thoughts. Grimshaw greets me friendly and invites me into his office. He is wearing a very British looking suit again, which brings a smile to my face.

"Malik, I'm glad you could make it. I hope you can stay a few days longer. The city is just right for you - youthful, exciting and interesting. It's full of potential art lovers and admirers of your paintings," he says, asking me to take a seat.

"The pleasure is all mine, Mr. Grimshaw. I'm curious to see if the Londoners will like my paintings."

"Oh, come on, Malik. People will fight to get them. Just your self-portrait in black and gold and the painting with the green eyes are worth spending the last money on it."

I flinch at his words and immediately reminded of the wonderful time with Harry. These two paintings are my sacred objects and not for sale. I would never give away Harry's portrait, not for all the money in the world. It is my last and only memory of him. I am attached to the work with all my heart.

"Did I say something wrong, Zayn?" Grimshaw looks at me and pats me compassionately on the shoulder. "Forgive me, Zayn. I didn't want to throw salt on the wound. These paintings mean a lot to you, don't they?"

"No, no... it's nothing," I answer and simply want to close this chapter of my life so that I no longer have to suffer.

"Well, that' a relief.  After all, you should have a good time here and not drown in grief. But let me introduce you to someone. He is, so to speak, responsible for your exhibition.  A very educated, committed young man. I hope you will get along very well with each other. At first glance, my colleague may seem a bit...well, unconventional, but he knows what he's doing, believe me."