Avery and Harry are platonic soulmates
These are the moments in their friendship they will never forget as they go through the highs and lows of life together. Experiencing love, fun and even grief. Finding out who they are and embracing it, making...
I walk tiredly down the stairs, following the voices of Harry and August.
They lead me to the downstairs bedroom, one of the guest rooms that we changed to become August's art studio. I open the door and find the boys at an easel each, focusing intensely on their canvases. I walk up to Gus and hug him from behind, causing him to jump slightly and breaking his concentration.
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"Morning." He says laughing and turning around to me, "Thought I would get up early to teach young Harry here how to paint."
"Young? I'm older than you!" Harry says sarcastically from the other of the room but not turning around.
"Only by like 4 months" August laughs back at him.
"Good morning, H." I say , laughing at their banter.
"Morning, Ave." Harry says quietly, still not turning away from his artwork.
I let go of August and move around to see what he is painting. A stage, with an unfinished silhouette of a musician holding a guitar. They stand behind a microphone, lights shining onto them from every angle. It's beautiful... as always. Not only does August know a lot about art, he is an incredibly talented Artist, with works featuring in shows all over the world. I'm undeniably proud of him. My best friend and my husband are both talented and artistic... just in different forms.
I turn to Harry's canvas and he's trying his best to paint someone in front of an easel holding a paint palette surrounded by other works of art. Then I realize, holy shit they painted each other. Matilda gets up from across the room and sits at my feet and I rub her head and quietly watch August paint while I sit on the chair sipping coffee.
"August" Harry says breaking the silence, "can I have some help please?"
"Sure." August walks over to Harry and I stand up and follow him. They talk for a while about different brush strokes and color blending. I watch curiously as August carefully takes the brush out of Harry's hand, noticing another thing.
"August, did you paint your nails?" I ask, with a small smile.
August looks down at his dark blue nails, his hands are covered in paint and holding a brush.
"Yeah, did it last night with Harry when you went to bed." He says casually.
"Fuck yeah! Next thing you know you will be wearing rings and get a hand tattoo as well!" I laugh.
"Nothing wrong with that!" Harry laughs, pretending to look offended. He glances down at his ironclad hands that are coated in even more paint than August's. He sighs softly, trying to pick off the white paint that had settled itself in the crevices of a ring. He eventually gives up, shoving them into his hoodie pocket so they don't get any dirtier.
