Aquarelle [h.s]

fifty-one

He went back to London with a lighter heart and some books from his parents' house, that found a new home on the bookshelves of his white apartment.

November turned up with the leftovers of Halloween, a pumpkin too many left in my kitchen and my dark red coat.

We found ourselves hiding into my studio once again, since it was starting to get too cold for our habitual escapades. We didn't mind though, because there was something that made us feel so happy in spending an afternoon holed up together in our little safe cocoon. And, even if the city outside had become grey, the bright colours certainly weren't missing in there, between fantastical paintings and otherwise painted paper sheets.

Harry resumed his habit of showing up during his lunch break at my workplace with a cappuccino and I mine of waiting for him to finish his workday in the cafe in front of the publishing house he worked at. It was a bit surprising to realise how quickly we'd fallen into a new routine, only made for us two.

December checked in with the tittle-tattles of our friends and fairy lights hanging from the windows.

We put up the Christmas decorations together, because what was the point in us living in two separate apartments if we couldn't make the Christmas tree twice? Harry was more of the opinion that making one in my flat was more than enough, but in the end I convinced him to get a small tree, barely a foot tall, to put next to his television, and while it didn't encompass the Christmas vibe I absolutely adored, it was one of the cutest things I'd ever seen.

In the end, we remedied the lack of a huge Christmas tree by putting golden fairy lights all over Harry's living room and bedroom - even though he'd established that they had to be turned off during the night since he preferred to sleep in the dark.

My birthday finally came around, and with it did the Christmas holidays.

That morning I woke up to an empty bed and a little box next to me over the duvet, accompanied by a piece of paper.

I sighed and rolled to lie on my stomach, picking up the paper sheet first and opening it, discovering that something was written inside it with that somewhat messy but at the same time elegant handwriting that I automatically recognised as Harry's.

I had to go to work early, so I left a little something for you on the bed. I'm truly sorry I couldn't be here. Happy Birthday, I'll see you in the afternoon. I love you xx

I smiled, putting the note aside and taking the box, carefully removing the blue wrapping paper to discover that I was holding something of so familiar but so odd at the same time.

It was an aquarelle pan, one I was way too familiar with. I carefully opened it, confirming my suspicions.

It was the same brand of the one of his mother, but it was a new one. It'd been out of production for years, how had he even found one of those?

I smiled a bit to myself, because of course he'd managed to surprise me once again. It didn't matter how much time we spent together, he always seemed to be able to do something I didn't expect, which was what made being with him so fresh.

I hadn't tried to use aquarelles in years, and he knew that. He knew I'd never felt comfortable painting with those, and yet they were what he'd chosen to give me. Whether it was because of the adoring comment I'd made about those when we'd come across then in his mother's studio or because he wanted me to push my limits and use them more often, I didn't know.

I rolled out of bed, shivering a bit when I left the warm safety of the blanket, immediately missing Harry a bit more than before. I knew he had to go to work because his boss had decided to have a meeting at eight sharp, he'd told me so the evening before, when he'd got the unpleasant news, so I definitely couldn't blame him for that, but I couldn't help but feel a bit sad that he couldn't be there on that morning specifically. It was the first birthday I had while we were together anyway, for the first time in so many years.