AN: okay, this is the last singular update before the ending. the end should be coming to you all within a few days- if not tomorrow. I just wanted to publish one singular chapter one last time. I love you to the moon and back <3
~Alex
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Five days later and I've still yet to see Harry.
Which, in all aspects, I'm in the wrong for avoiding him... but I'm just so mad.
I'm mad at him for texting Niall behind my back and for even suggesting I should see him in the first place. It wasn't my choice and I was nowhere near ready to see him again. It was my decision as to whether or not I wanted to see Niall again.
Sure, I had eventually agreed, but I had lied. Which wasn't something I was proud of and I felt sick to my stomach doing it. But contacting my ex should be my choice and I shouldn't have felt pressured by Harry to do it.
So finding out that Harry texted Niall sent me over the edge and I didn't want to have anything to do with him at the moment, no matter how badly I missed him.
"Soooo you're just going to avoid him?" Louis scoffs as I decline Harry's call for the tenth time that night, placing my phone face down on the counter.
"Duh. I'm mad," I smile while taking another shot, tapping the glass for Liam to give me another. He rolls his eyes before complying, filling the tiny glass to the rim. "Thanks, babe."
I'm currently sitting in the kitchen of Liam and Louis' apartment, drinking my problems away and trying not to think about Harry or Niall. Which is a rather hard task do to considering Harry is Louis's best friend and Liam feels the need to bring up Niall every spare chance he gets. It also doesn't help Harry keeps calling me every five seconds, the sound of my ringtone penetrating my brain and only worsening the impending headache.
Louis lets out a breath, his eyes wandering around the kitchen, "I don't think avoiding him is the smartest idea, Rora."
"That's what I've been saying," Liam hums before filling my glass once more after I quickly toss the vodka down my throat, wincing slightly at the taste. "You know who else she's avoiding? Niall."
"Sounds smart to me," I grin, feeling the warmth of the alcohol coursing through my veins as I slightly sway in my seat. "Plus, I never wanted to see Niall in the first place, so why shouldn't I avoid him?"
"Mm, but it's not," Louis laughs before taking away my glass, causing a whine to fall from my lips. "You need to be somewhat sober for when you go see him. And as for Niall, I couldn't give two shits. It's Harry I'm worried about."
I let out a loud laugh and shake my head, "You're funny. That's funny because I'm not going to go see him. And I agree with you on the Niall part."
"Oh, but you are," he grins before taking his car keys from his coat pocket and waving them in front of my face. "And I'm taking you to go see him so you won't back out."
"Louis, no," My smile drops from my face as he stands from his seat, reaching his hand out to me.
Liam laughs softly and comes to stand behind me, nudging me out of my seat, "Stop avoiding him, Aurora. Go talk it out."
"I seriously don't want to."
"I seriously don't care," Louis smiles as he grabs my wrist and pulls me towards the door.
I plant my feet and pull my body backwards, preventing him from pulling me any further as I resist his tugging. He groans and pulls me harder while I plant my feet harder into the ground, clinging onto the counter with my other hand.
"Aurora, seriously?" He huffs and I hear Liam laugh from behind me.
"Yes, seriously. I don't want to see him," I say through gritted teeth as his strength starts getting the best of me, my feet now slipping along the floor.
He rolls his eyes and steps towards me, bending down before wrapping his arms around my legs and throwing me over his shoulder, "Oh my god, Louis! Put me down!" I gasp as I place my hands on his back, picking my head up to see Liam with his hands braced on his knees while he laughs.
"God, babe. Manhandle her why don't you?" Liam chuckles as he follows behind us. I glare at him while he shuts the door to their apartment behind him, following us as Louis carries me to the elevator.
"I hate you, Louis," I mumble once he sets me down in the elevator, looking at me with a smug grin on his face.
"Love you, too," he chuckles while pressing the button for the first floor.
I huff and cross my arms over my chest, tapping my foot as the feeling of anxiety starts to set in. The beeping of the elevator signaling as we go down each floor doesn't help the anxiety building up inside of me, a million possibilities of what might happen when I see Harry circling my brain.
The doors open and I take a deep breath, glaring at Liam and Louis one last time before walking forward. I think about making a break for it once we step outside but decide against it, knowing they're probably faster than me and would catch up in no time.
Anxiety builds up inside of me the entire car ride to Harry's apartment, my leg bouncing at a rapid pace while my hands begin to shake. I don't know if anything good is going to come out of this confrontation tonight and something deep inside of me is telling me there won't. But I force myself to focus on the good, hoping and praying this night will end with us curled up in his bed, arms and legs tangled together and smiles gracing our lips.
"Relax, Rora. The worst that can happen is you two get into an argument. You both can work around this. Just listen and try not to rip his head off," Liam says, meeting my eyes in the rearview mirror.
I hum and nod my head, looking away from him and fixating my eyes on the buildings passing by the window. Something seemed off in Liam's eyes but I brush it off and try to focus on the alcohol coursing through my veins, letting it soothe me and bring that calming buzz back into my mind.
My mind wanders to Niall, thinking about how we spent the rest of the day when I first saw him again catching up. It was pretty evident to him that I wasn't the one who texted him, my little spell of me throwing up when I first saw him giving everything away.
But being with him and spending time with him made me realize I'm not as in love with him as I thought I was. If anything, it's more of a friendly love rather than a romantic one.
"Did you at least enjoy seeing Niall?" Liam speaks once again and I laugh softly, meeting his eyes.
"No, not necessarily. Especially since it wasn't on my terms and I was doing just fine with it just being me and Harry."
He nods his head and shifts in his seat, his eyes never leaving mine, "You mean you, Harry, and Maria."
"Liam!" Louis gasps and swats at his shoulder.
"What? Am I wrong?"
"You're not wrong," I snap and look away from him while crossing my arms over my chest, "You're just an asshole."
"Aurora-"
"I'm done having this conversation," I cut him off while anger begins to rise inside of me.
While Liam isn't wrong, it still hurts to hear. It hurts to hear that Harry is still in love with Maria while I'm desperately in love with him. And at one point I thought I once was in love with Niall the way Harry is in love with Maria, but seeing him made me realize I'm not.
My love for Harry exceeds any love I've ever felt for someone else.
The love I feel for Harry is the type of love that takes your breath away, leaving you speechless and in complete awe. Nothing compares to the way his hands touch my skin or the way his soft lips feel against mine.
The hands of an artist truly make me feel alive in every way possible, always showing me something beautiful and new with each stroke of his fingers. And his eyes tell a story of their own with each glance sent my way.
I can't help but notice all of his little odds-and-ends. Like the way his tongue darts out to meet his food before his lips actually can. Or the way the tip of his nose moves with every word he speaks. The little mole resting just below the corner of his mouth and the thousands of other freckles scattered delicately amongst his skin.
Or the way the words 'I love you' flow so freely from his mouth, causing my heart to beat a thousand miles a minute and ignite that beautiful feeling inside of me that warms me from head-to-toe.
"Can I trust you to actually go up to his apartment or do I need to carry you again?" Louis turns around in his seat to look at me, my heart beginning to race now that he's parked outside of Harry's apartment.
I take a deep breath and shake my head, "No, I'll go. Thanks." My voice is shaky, sending them both a small smile before opening the door to the car and getting out.
His apartment building looms in front of me, acting more as a dreaded threshold rather than a safe place I can go to when I'm feeling down. The thought of looking him in the eyes sends a wave of nausea through me and my hands begin to shake with each step I take towards the door.
Nothing but pure panic and anxiety swells inside of me once my hands finally touch the cool metal of the door handle, pulling it open and clocking the elevators down the hall. My eyes dart towards the stairs and I quickly choose that path instead, counting each stair and forcing my breathing to remain calm.
"Breathe, Aurora," I mumble to myself once I feel my breathing begin to pick up, pausing to close my eyes and breathe in and out through my nose. An aggravated groan falls from my lips once I feel my chest begin to tighten, the silence of the stairwell pressing down on me. I crouch down and squeeze my eyes shut while trying to block out the ominous silence, my lungs constricting and refusing to let me breathe properly as I gasp for air.
It all feels like a balloon that will never pop, only growing and expanding with each bad thought that seeps into my mind and pushes me farther down that black hole. A heavy weight rests on my chest and I pull at my shirt once it feels like the material is too heavy. Black spots begin to fill my vision from the lack of oxygen and an overwhelming sense of panic.
Everything bad in my life decides to play over and over again in my head like a broken record, only pushing me further down the dark hole I've dug for myself while my brain keeps telling me things that aren't true. The silence takes over me and crushes me to the ground along with the imminent confrontation of seeing Harry for the first time in five days.
What's he going to say to me? What's his real reason for wanting me to contact Niall? Does he maybe love Maria more than he loves me?
All of these questions and more push me further into the ground, increasing the unbearable amount of pressure on my chest and shoulders.
Just as I feel like I'm on the brink of no return, the shrill ringing of my phone breaks the overwhelming silence and I take a deep breath, the balloon finally popping and the crushing weight lifting from my chest. I gasp for air as I scramble for my phone, looking at the caller ID flashing across the screen.
The Artist
I let the loud ringtone carry itself through the empty stairwell, filling the silence and pulling me from the dark hole I had fallen into. It carries up and down the stairs and eases the questions tumbling around in my mind. And while it ends just as quickly as it had started, it was enough to pull me from the floor and begin the rest of my journey up the stairs to his apartment, stopping right outside of his door.
I pace back and forth in front of his door, debating as to whether or not I actually want to knock on it and confront him. I'm not even sure what I want to say or what Harry's going to say.
The unknown scares the shit out of me.
"Shit, I can't do this," I mumble to myself, my eyes darting from his door to the door leading towards the staircase. Both will lead me towards another path that will forever change my future. The only question is, which path do I want to take?
To knock or not to knock.
To sit out here and hesitate all night, or to get this shit over with.
To leave or to see my Capolavoro.
"God, make up your damn mind," I groan while running my hands over my face, peeking at Harry's door from between my fingers. "Okay, okay. You can do this."
My feet step towards his door only for my mind to betray me, causing me to step backwards. I spin on my heel, my back facing the door as I roll my shoulders and bite my lip. "C'mon, Rora. You can do this."
I turn around and take a step towards his door, raising my fist to knock on the metal material, only to be stopped as it swings open and I'm met with green eyes filled with sadness and determination.
A jacket rests on one arm, his other just barely pushing through the second armhole as the keys to his car dangle from between his teeth. His hair is a complete mess, dried tears staining his cheeks and his shirt a wrinkled mess as if he'd just rolled out of bed. Grey sweatpants rest on his hips while worn-out slippers adorn his feet, his phone resting in his hand with the contact name Flower displayed across the screen, his thumb hovering over the call button.
He looks broken.
His mouth parts and his keys fall to the floor, my eyes following their descent, "Aurora."
I look up from his keys and meet his eyes, dropping my fist back down to my side, "Harry."
Before another word can escape my lips, his arms reach out to pull me into him, squeezing me so tightly all the air rushes from my lungs.
I hesitantly wrap my arms around him, feeling his grip tighten and a sigh of relief to leave his lips once my hands touch the material of his shirt.
"I know you're mad at me and the last thing you want to do is hug me, but please let me hold you for a few seconds," he whispers softly against the skin of my neck, the tip of his nose grazing my skin.
My hands slip underneath his shirt, letting him feel my touch and earning a small whimper to resonate throughout his body. I squeeze my eyes shut and listen to his ragged breathing, wincing slightly once I feel his tears hit my skin.
"Hi, Flower. I've missed you."
I take a deep breath and plant a kiss to his collarbone, "Hi, Capolavoro. I've missed you, too."
The tight grip he has around me lessens and I remove my hands from underneath his shirt, taking a step away from him and watching as he quickly wipes away his tears before his hands fall to his sides. I eye him up and down before bending down to pick up his keys, squeezing my eyes shut and breathing in and out through my nose before standing upright again.
"Here," I hand his keys back to him, dropping them into the palm of his outstretched hand.
Silence surrounds us as he looks up from his keys to meet my eyes again, clearing his throat before taking a step back, "Do you want to come inside?"
I nod my head and break the eye contact as I step into his apartment, making a beeline for his kitchen. The door closes softly behind me and I hear the shuffling of his feet as he takes off his slippers, glancing behind my shoulder to see him shrugging off his jacket and hanging up his keys.
"Do you mind if I make some tea?" I ask him quietly, observing him as he sits down at the kitchen island.
He shakes his head and rests his chin in the palm of his hand, emerald eyes watching my every move while I navigate around his kitchen. I shift nervously from foot to foot as I fill up the tea kettle, thinking over what I want to say to him in my mind.
"Why didn't you answer any of my calls?" He speaks as I place the kettle over the open flame on the stove.
I laugh sarcastically and turn around, crossing my arms over my chest and leaning against the counter, "Why do you think?"
"I get that you're mad-"
"I'm not mad, Harry. I'm fucking furious," I scoff, furrowing my eyebrows together. "Do you realize how stupid that was of you? How would you have liked it if I texted Maria behind your back pretending to be you?"
He runs his fingers over his lips that are pressed into a thin line, briefly tapping his fingertips against them, "I had a reason for doing it."
"Then please do tell." My arms come uncrossed from across my chest and I place my hands on either side of my body, drumming my fingers against the counter.
Right as he opens his mouth to speak, the kettle lets out a high whistle. I roll my eyes before turning my back to him and taking the kettle off of the flame, pouring the steaming hot water into two mugs.
I hear movement behind me and glance to my right to see Harry grabbing the milk from the refrigerator, my heart melting slightly at the sight. We both remain silent and I watch him as he adds just a dash of milk to my tea, biting down on my lip to prevent myself from smiling at the sweet action.
"I did it because I wanted you to see if you're still in love with him," he says, keeping his eyes trained on my cup. "I knew you wouldn't do it, so I did it for you." Before I can open my mouth to reply, he takes a deep breath, "I know I shouldn't have done it. You're right... it was stupid of me, but I just needed you to know for sure or not."
"Why?"
He closes his eyes, putting the lid back on the milk before returning it to the refrigerator. I watch him with anxiety pooling inside of my stomach, my hands beginning to shake as he comes to stand in front of me. I don't dare to move or even breathe, shivers running down my spine as he grazes his fingertips down the length of my arm.
His eyes follow the movement of his fingers, trailing from my wrist all the way to my jawline before he finally meets my eyes. "Can I show you something?"
"Harry-"
"Just... let me show you this," he breathes out.
My bottom lip slips between my teeth as I nod my head, the anxiety inside of me only worsening as he takes my hand and leads me out of his kitchen. I take the moment to observe his hand in mine, noticing the soft hues of blue and purple paint littered amongst his skin, trailing all the way up to his elbow.
He leads me into his studio and I spot a small canvas sitting on an easel, covered up with a piece of white fabric.
"I worked on this the five days you weren't talking to me... and I knew you'd probably appreciate it," he murmurs softly before stepping away from me, his hands gripping onto the fabric and slowly sliding it off of the small canvas.
My hand instantly flies up to my mouth and I feel tears spring to my eyes, looking away from the painting and into Harry's eyes, "Harry..."
On the canvas is an exact replica of my grandmother's garden. Every single thing is as exactly as I remember- from the small patch of yellow roses she planted just for me, to the bridge that crosses over the small creek running through her garden. It almost feels like I'm there and she's right beside me holding my hand, teaching me how to take care of each and every flower, saying every single flower has a soul.
I'm sent back to one of the last days I spent with her, closing my eyes as I picture everything perfectly in my mind.
•••
"Flowers are like human beings, Aurora," Grandmother smiles at me. "They thrive on sunshine, water, and a little bit of kindness."
I smile gently at her and run my fingertips over the petals of a yellow rose, looking up to find her staring at me with warmth in her eyes, "I think any flower that has bloomed in your garden has been treated with all three of those."
She laughs softly and nods her head, "That's just because I'm an old lady with nothing better to do other than run her mouth about flowers."
"Well," I sigh, standing up from my crouching position, "I guess that makes me an old lady, too. Seeing as how all I ever do is run my mouth about flowers."
"That's because you have a passion for beautiful things, my beauty. Don't ever let people get in the way of that," she says while placing her hand on my cheek.
I place my hand over hers, unable to keep my mind from thinking about how my days with her are coming to an end. Tears form in my eyes and she quickly notices, clicking her teeth and tugging me over to our bench, "Don't cry about me, Aurora. I don't want you to cry over me."
"I'm just going to miss you," I sniffle, wiping away the tears that had fallen from my eyes.
"Why?" She tilts her head slightly to the side, a small smile gracing her lips. "I'm always going to be with you. Every time you see a yellow rose or any yellow flower, just know that I'm right there with you."
Her eyes leave my face and she turns to pluck a yellow dahlia from the patch growing beside the bench, placing it in my hand, "Remember that yellow dahlias symbolize beauty, elegance, and strength. You are all of those things and more, Aurora. So every time you see one, it's me telling you that you're going to be alright."
I nod my head and bring the petals to my nose, inhaling the sweet aroma, "I love you, Grandmother."
"I love you, too, Flower."
•••
"Your brothers showed me a picture of it and I've been meaning to paint it sooner. I've just never had the time," Harry explains. "Do you like it?"
I swallow thickly and nod my head, stepping forward to run my fingers along the paint, "I love it," I look up into his eyes, melting as he lifts his hand up to brush away a stray tear that had fallen down my cheek. "Thank you, Harry."
He sends me a small smile, leaning forward to press a kiss to my forehead, "I'm going to go take a shower. Please stay here and I promise we'll talk once I'm done. Okay?"
"Okay," I nod my head, catching his hand as he starts walking by me. He turns to look at me, his eyes glazed over with tears, "This is the sweetest and most beautiful thing anyone has ever done for me, Harry. Seriously. Thank you."
"You're welcome, Flower," he smiles shakily at me and squeezes my hand before disappearing from his studio.
Flower.
A nickname I've been given by the ones I love and by those who love me.
My eyes look back at the paint-covered canvas, spotting Harry's signature resting in the bottom right corner. A smile graces my lips as I run my fingers along the letters, a sense of undying love swelling in my chest at the name embedded permanently into the canvas.
Capolavoro.