8:41
harry_styles: good morning, hope you'll have a great day:)
14:56
harry_styles: will you have 5 mins to talk before you go to sleep?
harry_styles: it would be nice to hear your voice again
20:14
harry_styles: it's okay, sleep well love
7:55
harry_styles: is everything okay?
harry_styles: I'm starting to get a bit worried
15:29
harry_styles: just text me pls
harry_styles: one word is enough
Harry checked his phone for the 70th time in the past ten minutes; ever since he's sent the message he's been acting like a rocket that got stuck in the starter barrel, struggling to free itself from suffering. He knew Louis didn't have much time, but he always replied eventually by the end of the day.
This silence was eating him up alive.
The birthday call awhile ago gave him such an energy rush, like no amount of sugar or caffeine could of ever done. It only had one big disadvantage: missing his other half became five times worse, sending him into an endless spiral of thoughts about his voice, face and handwriting. It was a mess, he was a mess.
...And now Louis disappeared like he's never been real, and only a photo on the nightstand and a crinkled letter proved his existence.
Okay, maybe that was a stretch.
He's been ignoring the messages for like 24 hours now, it wasn't like nobody remembered him as they did with The Beatles in that popular movie.
However, the young artist couldn't calm down his highly pounding heart - he felt like he had to do something. Anything to know his man was actually alright and his phone just died. Or got stolen. Along with him being kidnapped. And sold to an egyptian prince. For camels and gold.
Harry slowly climbed the stairs up to the main hall from the workshop, before limping to the sport and medical section of the university. He was getting better and better at walking with the plastic foot cast on, which made him feel a bit more powerful. If he was able to fight down the problems that came with a broken bone all alone, he might beat anything.
He knocked on the blurry glass door, then turned the knob and stepped in quite nervous.
"Hello, 'm sorry to bother you," he cleared his throat. "Can I talk to you for a second?"
"Of course, come i- what the heck" Dr Page blinked twice as she glimpsed at the cast on his leg. "How can someone get so badly injured while being a painter...?"
The curly headed one suppressed a smile, shaking his head. " 'm not just a painter, I like to think I'm an artist."
"Still, did you drop a freaking easel on your leg? A statue? Made of marble?"
"I fell down the stairs... I think," he clarified it finally while nervously sinking his hands in the pockets of his skinny jeans. "But 'm not here for that. I want to ask you about Louis."
"So you're telling me you have a broken feet, but you searched for a doctor not to check up on it, but to ask them about another patient who they certainly can not talk about?"
"No, I was searching for you," he highlighted the words, his features crinkling to a quite desperate expression. "I haven't heard from him since yesterday morning and I know you're obligated to visit them every week, so I thought you might know about something I don't..."
Her poker face was unshakeable. "He might just not get signal right now."
"Please Dr Page, I... I just need to know." Harry seemed extremely sad when he pronounced the begging words. He was well aware that a doctor couldn't mention these things, but he was hoping their story is different and means something for her as she already saved them once, going against all the rules back in october.
"Oh lord, both of you make me risk my job all the time," the woman took a deep breath and put her pen down the table. She fully turned to him in her chair and let her hands fall on her laps as she started speaking. "Two days ago Louis fell on the pitch and his shoulder got dislocated again. It's just something he has to live with from now on, the chances of the bone sliding out of its place are higher now that it happened once," she spoke like they were discussing the weather. "I was called in, but as I can only go on saturdays considering the partnership contract the program and the university made, the local doctors took care of him. As far as I know he's got some pretty strong pain killers and medications, because he needs to get back on the field as soon as he can, so I assume he was just sleeping all day and he'll get back to you when he's able to. You have nothing to worry about."
Nothing to worry about.
NoTHiNg tO wOrRY aBoUt.
Ma'am, are we having the same fucking conversation?
Harry's eyes widened and suddenly the door behind him came in handy as he could lean against it. He closed his eyes, tried to count till ten and focus on his surroundings to prevent himself from falling onto the frightening trap of a panic attack.
"He must be in so much pain." he whispered, feeling totally sick just from the thought.
Although the doctor wasn't the sweetest, most understanding mom type in the whole world, she sighed and tried to use a gentle tone. "Look, a footballer's life isn't easy. He'll always get hurt and you can't fall apart every time it happens, because that won't help any of you. He's fine, they're taking care of him. Also, he'll be back in a few weeks and you can cuddle him to death if you'd like to. Or at least that's what he's hoping for."
"...but I know how to massage his shoulder, when it hurts." the other glanced at her dispiritedly, getting a faint smile from her.
"I'm pretty sure those doctors with their silly little PhD's know it too."
Harry started staring at the ground, wondering how to do the most for his boyfriend from this insane distance. He couldn't massage him, make him tea, heat up one of those hot bottles or simply kiss it better. Outrageous.
"Can you tell me how he's doing when you meet him...? He'd only lie to me so I don't worry."
"What a healthy relationship you have going on there," she rolled her eyes, then also chuckled to show that she wasn't that serious. "Sure. But seriously Harry, take care of your broken leg first, and then worry about his shoulder."
"Oh about this..." he mumbled. "Please don't tell him about my accident on the stairs, okay? He'd just worry too much-"
"Get out of my office," she buried her face in her hands as she turned back to the desk, letting out a dramatic groan. "You two are exactly the same, I can't believe this..."
"Have a nice day, Dr Page!" the younger one hid his smile, before leaving her alone to pray she'll have girls if she ever decides to raise kids.
He started to limp back to the workshop to finish what he's been working on. It was lunch time, which meant only two things: a lot of people were coming and going across the whole area of the school, and his favourite underground workshop was absolutely empty. Perfect.
He checked his phone for the 71st time now to see if Louis texted him back, but this time he didn't feel sad about not getting any messages. At least he was aware of what was going on in Liverpool and his questions all got answered. It didn't mean he wasn't worried, of course he was, but being confused in the fog was way worse than knowing what danger surrounds him in the forest.
"Hey Harry," suddenly a tinkling voice startled him. "How are you doing?"
"Blake," he smiled at her while sinking his phone back to his pocket. " 's alright. Trying to focus on today, not how far february 25 is."
"That's a great technique," she pushed a blonde curl behind her ear. "You could also concentrate on the upcoming exhibition, hm? It's a pretty huge milestone, you should celebrate your career as well."
"I know," he agreed right away. "But as pathetic as it might sound, all I wanna paint now is my muse."
"Your muse..." she repeated the words with a bittersweet smile on her bright red lips. "I love how you're taking this word seriously... in the old greek mythology the nine muses were the goddesses of the arts and sciences, so every artist depended on them, on their mercy. The way you say it makes me feel like you truly bring back the origin of the word... you and your art both depend on him."
"Woah... I missed your interpretations," the other spoke in a genuine voice, however, he couldn't act like he didn't notice the glimpse of sadness on her face. "But how are you holding up...?"
"It gets better each day," she forced herself to keep the smile. "It's not like I cried my eyes out, watched every Legally Blonde movie in order to feel okay, but still count the days since the breakup."
"Totally not like that," Harry put an arm around her shoulders, giving her a side hug. " 'm sorry it ended in such an unfortunate way."
It was true. Blake didn't belong to Liam, but that didn't mean Harry didn't like her as a friend.
"It's fine," the girl sounded like she was trying to convince herself. "...Or more like it will be fine. It's been only 16 days anyway, I just need time."
"You'll get over him," he attempted to cheer her up with a weak joke. "He's not that cool, you'll find someone else to replace him soon. The bar isn't that high."
Harry succeeded: she let out a quiet laughter, showing him a real smile.
"Thanks," Blake still accompanied him when they reached the door of the workshop, then stopped there. "Who knows... maybe one day we'll become friends and I'll hang out with the group again."
"Would you do that?" he looked frankly surprised. "Even if he was... uhm... so Zayn..."
"I think so," she bit her lower lip, turning her head away to stare at a pillar at the entrance instead. "I'm not mad at him because he cheated on me with a man... I'm upset, because he used my love to hide that he's into one, on the first place."
Harry was still thinking about her wise, mature words hours later, while painting a greek mythology inspired work of art.
Not so long after the talk with Blake, the phone on the table next to a bunch of painty equipments buzzed, startling the young artist from the wild circle of his thoughts. He put down the palette, wiped his hands in a dirty towel, and still got paint in his brown locks when he fixed his hair to get them out of the way as he tilted his head forward to glance at the phone.
His heart slightly jumped.
He's never been this happy about seeing the instagram notification icon on the screen.
louist91: sorry babe, I'm here
louist91: the schedule's been pretty tight lately and I forgot to charge my phone, that's it
Ok, Dr Page might have been onto something with that comment about having a healthy, honest relationship.
Although it didn't feel great to know he was lying to him, Harry couldn't be mad about it; he didn't tell him what happened during that night out with Zayn either, so let's say, they were equally trying to protect one another from worrying too much. He decided to go with the flow and act like he believed the excuse.
harry_styles: oh okay, sorry for overreacting
louist91: noo, it's fine, I have a few free minutes now anyway
louist91: how's the preparation for the exhibition going?
harry_styles: I'll finish the last piece this week, so five of my works will be displayed
louist91: so proud of you darling
harry_styles: thank you:)
louist91: when's the opening ceremony?
harry_styles: february 19
louist91: don't forget to stay away from all of the ronald-type of guys. Or start every conversation with them like
louist91: "hi, I'm taken Harry"
louist91: "hi, I'm Harry in a relationship Styles"
harry_styles: I want people to like me, I'd rather not embarrass myself:(
louist91: "hi, I'm Harry and I like your shirt... my BOYFRIEND has exactly the same"
harry_styles liked the message
harry_styles: :) I'll consider that one
The rest of the day went great; he almost finished the painting, Liam picked him up to bring him back to dorm, he did his homework there, and Niall showed up like an hour later, since he finished early at the record label. The blonde boy seemed mildly tense when he dropped his coat and scarf on the chair and literally threw himself on his bed with a tired groan.
"Did you have a rough day?" his room mate risked the question, whereupon another painful whimper into the pillow was an answer. "...I'll take that as a yes."
"It wasn't rough," Niall finally turned to him, looking like a little boy who broke his favourite robot. "It was mentally exhausting. Relationship problems suck, I don't even know how you guys deal with so much."
"This... this wasn't the compliment you thought it would be," the curly headed one frowned, then held back a quiet laughter when he saw his regretful face. "So you still haven't made it up with Ells?"
"No... although I thought makeup sex will help and save the situation."
"This was your first idea for solving this...?"
"Yes Harold, not all of us has the energy for thinking about some gigantic romantic gesture," he answered right away a bit offended. "And for your information: it worked pretty well! Until she saw me talking to Hailey two days later, so now we're back to the arguments."
"Why do you even talk to her?" Harry sighed.
"Because she's my girlfriend and I love her."
"...I meant Hailey."
"Oh," Niall sat up on his bed, leaning against the wall as he was deliberating whether he should share the secret with him or not. "...No, I'm sorry I can't tell you."
"Why not?"
"I'm planning something."
The younger boy shook his head in disbelief, before letting the unamused expression took over his features. He glanced at the other, as if he was the suspect of a crime and Harry's task was to decide about his future.
However, no matter how hard he tried, he couldn't read in his face.
" 'm not surprised she's angry with you," he spoke in the end. "I don't hate Hailey as much as she does and I'm also not as impatient as she is, but it's still annoying me that I don't know your plan."
"Don't start it please," he sighed dramatically. "I can't handle both of you being that curious and mad at me... especially when I can have makeup sex with only one of you."
The other burst into a laughter, which made the blonde one giggle as well. It truly was a small relief for both of them in these difficult times.
"How sad Ells will be, when she finds out I'm that one." he took the joke on the next level, getting a grin from Niall.
"I still believe in what I said after our first night out together, okay? We'd make a good couple."
Harry remembered at that conversation. It was literally their first night at the dorm, when they went to some crowded club with Liam as well, got wasted, then he woke up next to a shirtless Niall in his bed. None of them knew why he got shirtless through the night, but the blonde one's fun statement which he just quoted, vividly lived in his head for sure.
As time kept going, it became a little easier for the younger one to get through the days. The date of the exhibition was coming fast; the high tempo also meant a strong schedule which turned out to be his biggest help as it kept him focused on what was coming. He felt like sleeping wasn't even needed anymore, when the excitement made him perfectly awake and aware of everything.
Harry was waiting for the big day to come around, like he was getting married, and when they reached the magical date - the 19th day of february - he felt the weirdest mix of emotions.
He was excited, nervous, sick, and about to cry while smiling at the same time.
"I'd say take a deep breath, but you already used all of our oxygen in the car." the voice of Gemma brought him back to reality in a second.
Harry had to blink a few times to process everything once again, before turning right to send a pretty nervous smile in the direction of his sister. Her dyed blonde hair fell on her shoulders in beautiful waves that were screaming to be drawn by someone, while the dark eyeshadow and the light lip gloss formed the perfect contrast on her face. Harry was wondering if she knew how beautiful she was.
"I feel like fainting, to be honest." he admitted it after all, which was followed by a concerned look from his mother on Gemma's right side in the cab.
"Honey, do you need something? I brought your favourite vitamin water and the magnesium capsules as well."
"Thanks mom," he closed his eyes, tilting his head against the window of the car instead. "I'll be fine. 'm just nervous about the opening ceremony."
"Right, whoever had the idea of making you represent the young artists in a speech was insane," Gemma spoke without thinking, then realised how wrong it came out. "Ehm but you'll be great. Just read the cards! If you're talking fast enough you can get out of the spotlight within two minutes."
"Yes, 'm famous of talking fast," Harry whimpered. "Mom, I changed my mind, I could use some magnesium."
It didn't matter how long he's been waiting for this milestone to come around; the speaking part felt like climbing a mountain without a rope, carbine and air to breathe.
He wished his muse was with him, like he was at London's Newport Street Gallery.
Just to keep him together.
To feel his touch on his lower back as he whispered sweet nothings.
He forced himself to swallow the magnesium capsules and closed his eyes once again to focus on small details that helped him staying in reality. The fruity taste of the vitamin water, the material of his suit, the gentle voice of Gemma... all of them helped a bit, but it was far from the effect Louis would of had on him.
When they reached the gallery, his heart skipped a beat after taking one look at the sign above the door.
Jenny Saville: A Glimpse of the Future
Under the main title there was a pretty huge section, introducing the five featured artists of the younger generation and the line up started with a certain Harry Styles.
"I'm so proud of you darling... you made it." his mom caressed his shoulders as they stopped in front of the sign, however, the reaction wasn't something she expected.
"Thank you... now if you excuse me, I think 'm gonna go and throw up in the bathroom."
"C'mon Harry, get it together! You deserve this success, embrace it," Gems smiled at him, hooking on to his left arm. "You don't wanna be the artist who fainted at their first huge exhibition, do you? I mean, you'd sure get publicity-"
"I love you, but this isn't helping." the younger one mumbled, taking a deep breath as they entered the building.
The place looked astonishingly beautiful; the modern gallery had a minimalist style with a spice of futuristic taste, while the masterpieces in the main hall got that perfect amount of lighting that highlighted them in a classic, chic way. The tall tables were covered with different pastel drapes, each of them offering either champagne or appetizers. The small arrows on the walls showed the guests which room displayed which artists, and Harry had to fight down another wave of sickness when he glimpsed at his own name.
"Ah Harry, I'm so glad you got here safe! I heard there's a lot of traffic going on right now." Miss Saville walked up to him with a wide, excited smile on her face.
"Yes uh we're fine, thank you," he tried to calm down, although the amount of people in the gallery weren't on his side at all. "Let me introduce you my guests, uhm so this is my mom and-"
Harry fell out of reality as soon as he started talking. He was having a proper small talk with his supportive idol for a good few minutes, simply joining to the conversation Gemma, Anne and the woman had. It was like watching himself from a different point of view, like he stepped out of his body and let the default settings do the job instead of him.
"Oh by the way, I have a surprise for you."
The words dragged him out of the comfortable bubble of his thoughts, as if a magician said the right words to snap him out of the hypnosis.
Harry bit his lower lip and a whimper burst out of him without thinking. "Please don't make me do a second speech."
"No, nothing like that," Miss Saville chuckled. "You're gonna like this one, but you have to wait until the speech is over. Oh and I also want you to meet a few of my friends, the doors has been open for only half an hour now and they're already interested in your work."
"Th-thank you," he stuttered, then turned to his mom as soon as Jenny left them alone. "Talking to other famous artists...? I'll need champagne. A whole bottle. I can't do this."
"Yes you can, you won't panic, okay? We won't let you." she looked him in the eyes, talking in such a reassuring voice, he would of believed anything coming out of her mouth.
"Exactly," Gemma nodded straightway, then handed him over a glass of champagne. "...Still, have this. Just in case."
Harry took a sip of the bubbly drink; since he truly believed it would help, it really did and as soon as he finished the first glass, he felt much better. Almost ready to do the speech in front of that few people.
...Unfortunately "few" meant "at least fifty."
When the time has come, the host of the whole amazing exhibition, Miss Jenny Saville stepped to the main table in the hall, fixed the long wine-red drape that reached the floor and covered the whole stand, then tapped the microphone two times before getting the attention of everyone at the ceremony.
"Welcome to the Glimpse of the Future! My name is Jenny Saville and first of all I'd like to thank you for coming to my exhibition," she started talking about what this whole thing meant for her, but Harry had a hard time paying attention. He kept looking down at his small purple cards that he got from Gemma, who helped him prepare for the whole speech. Suddenly even reading seemed like a problem he couldn't solve. "And now let me introduce you one of the astonishingly talented featured artists, who I got the chance to know and present his works... Ladies and gentlemen, Mr. Harry Styles!"
Oh hell nah.
He stood up and headed to the stand to give her a kiss on the cheek, then carefully placed his cards on the wine-red material with slightly shaking hands. The clapping died down, so the young boy took a deep breath and opened his mouth to suffer through what was coming. He couldn't handle the attention when all of his friends were looking at him - how was he supposed to do this in front of so many important guests?
"Good evening, and thank you for the heartwarming introduction. My name is Harry Styles and I'm 20 years old," good, it sounds like you're at an anonym alcoholics meeting. "I'm studying Studio Arts at the Norwich University and I was lucky enough to meet one of my idols, Miss Jenny Saville at the Newport Street Gallery."
Okay, next card, before you tell them your whole life story.
"When someone announces they would like to do art for a living, people around them often come to the conclusion that it has no sane reason to be the center of that person's life. They find it hard to believe that it is seriously someone's real raison d'étre," he pronounced the famous french term in a gentle way. "Us - the young artists of this modern world - have to face with the same problem every single day: getting over the existential crisis and expressing ourselves with a drop of hope that this world will accept it someday."
The silence in the room felt heavy, so Harry glanced up from his cards to take a look at the crowd. The mostly impressed faces gave him a new rush of energy to keep going, but before he would of turned back to his cards, he glimpsed at something that was surely an evil trick of his brain.
His mouth went dry within a second, his voice was suddenly gone as he kept staring in the direction of the entrance. For a moment he felt like everyone disappeared in the room and all he could see was the result of his hallucination at the door, showing him the proudest, most beautiful sunshine smile he's ever seen.
He squinted his eyes, blinked to make this painful dream disappear, but no matter what he did, it stayed.
The reason of it was actually pretty simple: it wasn't an evil trick of his mind.
Louis was standing at the entrance of the main hall in a black suit and he's never looked happier in his entire life.
Harry gasped, tears already burning his eyes and throat from withholding them. Although thoughts were crossing his head constantly, questions popping up fighting for attention and to be pronounced out loud, he couldn't say a single word. He swore, even his heart didn't dare to beat for a good three seconds, before it kept pounding faster than ever.
"Harry... continue the speech!" Miss Saville whispered from the table next to the stand, making him realise he's been standing there in silence without moving for who knows how long. In the middle of the speech.
The thin cards slipped out of his hand, slowly falling on the top of the elegant drape. The younger boy felt like time has stopped and the cheeky smile of Louis was the only reason he finally found his voice again.
"We shouldn't care about what they say. Some people will always envy what we have, because art is like true love... it lifts you up, holds you like you weigh a feather and encircles you with warm hands for the rest of your life," he spoke in the microphone without breaking the eye contact. The green pair of eyes got lost in the blue ones... he didn't need the cards anymore, he knew exactly what to say. "It leads you to places only you could discover... it's a moment of piece in the rushing world around us. When you finally understand your purpose in life, the reason you were born and you're able to express it through a painting, a sculpture, a poem or a song... 's truly a gift you have to celebrate every day. No matter how many people will question you along the journey."
The smile of Louis became even wider as he nodded, like he was trying to say exactly love, keep going.
"Today we're also here to celebrate the young generation of artists who dared to be brave enough to stick by their decisions and create a moment of piece for all of us to witness," he swallowed hard, but the knot didn't disappear in his throat. "Thank you for taking a moment to interpret our feelings and thoughts through art, which the rest of the world might not understand yet... Thank you for appreciating this glimpse of the future."
The guests started clapping and cheering as the speech was over, but it didn't reach his mind at all - the noises became faint, blunt and unimportant.
Harry headed in the direction of their table on the side, and in the meantime Louis did the same. His heart almost jumped out of his chest, but he just kept going, careful enough to always see where the other was in the crowd of people.
And all of a sudden here he was, his voice sounding like it could make a rainy day the most beautiful one they've ever had.
"Haz- oHMYFUCKINGGOD WHAT IS THAT"
Harry couldn't care about how funny his mood switch was when he saw the plastic cast on his leg; all he could think about was that his one and only footballer was standing in front of him after more than five weeks of being away.
"You're here." he blurted it out, still in the sweetest shock ever.
"Yeah, but what the fuck is that, did you break your leg? Jesus Harry, why wou-"
The older boy couldn't finish the offended monologue, because in the next moment Harry stepped forward, softly grabbed his suit and pressed his lips against his. Louis froze for a brief second, then melted into the kiss right away, gently placing his hand on his jawline. Feeling his lips and touch after such a long time brought him back to life; it was the rain in the desert, the air above the surface and the piece of bread for the hungry.
"You're here." the younger one repeated it again, only pulling back a few centimeters to breathe the words as tears filled his eyes.
"I am," Louis whispered it back, placing another soft kiss on his lips. "I couldn't miss your big day."
True. Life-saver. Unrepeatable.
The following kiss had it all.
•••
A/N: surprise bitches!! This is probably my fav scene I've ever written :>
love you all, dee <3