Harry entered my bedroom and draped his coat over the chair of my desk as I waited next to the entrance. He was about to sit down on my couch when I stopped him.
"Not there" I said, and he turned around.
I hesitated a bit before pointing at the bed. I'd changed the sheets and blanket a couple of hours before, to match the white of my couch.
He seemed to hesitate a bit before sitting down on it, a confused look on his face.
"I never redo drawings. The first one always looks better" I told him as I tentatively stepped forward. "You should take off your shoes."
He easily slipped them off, leaving them next to the bed as I neared him.
I stopped between his knees and put my hand on his shoulder, gently pushing him back. "Lie down" I said softly.
He moved to do as I said, and I took the white pillow, moving it on one side, a silent request for Harry to do the same. I'd never been gladder I had a small double sized bed.
Once he was rigidly lying down on one side I walked around the bed, taking what I needed to draw him before getting on the bed from the bottom to avoid having to hover over him, which seemed a really inappropriate thing to do.
I knelt next to him, fixing his hair to give it a messier vibe. "You should relax or something" I murmured, and he shot me a glance. "Doesn't exactly look natural" I added. I put one of his hands on the pillow and the other over his belly, trying to recreate the most natural vibe as possible. "Alright" I said once I was done, moving to sit with my back against the wall.
He turned to look at me as I started drawing. As usual I let my mind drift off, shooting him attentive glances often to try to recreate the picture in front of me in the best way I could. Despite having had the opportunity to draw him for a little over a month, it still felt weird that I had the possibility to look at him how much I wanted, without it being weird. Or else, without it being excessively weird. I wondered how it felt to be someone's model. Did it feel like baring yourself in front of somebody else, or was it way easier than that? I didn't think I would've liked to be someone's model, I didn't really like to be looked at that much. I wondered if Harry cared. I used to think nobody particularly likes being stared at, but then he'd come around, and acted as if it didn't faze him at all. Was it because he was just used to it? Because of his wondrous looks he often seemed to be looked at, he couldn't cross a room without turning heads. But he didn't seem particularly upset, or happy, about it. It looked like he didn't even notice it at all. But I knew it wasn't it. From some of the things he'd said while we spoke I could understand he was way more aware of his surroundings than he seemed to be.
I looked at him again just to discover that his eyes were closed, his dark eyelashes gently resting on his cheekbones. I slowly lowered the drawing on my knees before hesitantly poking him to elicit any reaction. He didn't move an inch, and I realised he'd fallen asleep. I glanced at my drawing before looking back at him. He seemed peaceful in his sleep. He'd finally relaxed, his chest rising and falling at an even pace. I resisted the urge to fix my sketch to look like the current picture, something telling me that Harry would've never forgiven me if I'd brought to school a drawing of him sleeping without him agreeing to it first.
I sat more comfortably, continuing my drawing. I felt calmer drawing him while he was sleeping. When he was awake I never knew what went on in his head, and that scared me. He often just stared at me or at the room, and I couldn't help but wonder if he thought positively of it, or me, or not. I felt judged and it paralysed me, in a way. But in that moment, with him sleeping, I was basically alone, free to draw him as I would've with a picture.
After a while he suddenly sat up, causing me to drop the charcoal on the white blanket, dirtying it. I hissed, retreating instinctively until my back was flush against the wall. I looked at him as he closed his eyes and took a deep breath before lying down again, resuming the same position as before, his eyes focused on the ceiling above him. I stared at him for a while, but he completely ignored me.
"Are you okay?" I carefully asked him, hoping he wouldn't lash out.
He didn't look at me. "I didn't mean to fall asleep" he said gently after a while.
"It's alright" I said faintly. I could feel there was more to it than what he'd said, but I didn't know how to deal with it. I took the charcoal, that had been left on the blanket, and quickly resumed my actions, glancing at him a little more often than was required.
He kept staring at the ceiling.
Something was wrong. We both knew it, but none of us said anything. I didn't because I was afraid of his possible reaction, and he didn't, because... he was Harry. And of course he wouldn't have commented on it.
I kept drawing in silence, going on for another half an hour or so before it became too heavy, even for me. I put the drawing on the side, the charcoal on in not to ruin my blanket further, and slid off the bed just as I'd first got on it. "Come on" I said, going against my common sense and offering him my hand to help him up.
He gave me a confused glance but took it anyway, standing up from the bed.
I walked to the other side of the room and took a pair of shoes, slipping them on fast as he mimicked my actions. I went downstairs, with him silently following me, took my coat and went out of the backdoor into the garden, sitting down in the middle of all the bushes of roses. He did the same hesitantly, seeming confused by my actions. I played with a blade of glass, not really knowing what to say.
All of sudden a gush of wind moved the plants in the garden and a branch of the bush behind Harry touched his shoulder. He turned around, noticing the pinkish-white flower behind him, and leant back a bit to smell it.
"Blush Noisette" I said. "It's a kind of rose" I specified when he gave me a weird look. "I don't know roses. My mother planted it recently. Just that" I added again once I realised how that sounded like.
"It's beautiful" he simply said, smelling it again.
I nodded, shifting closer to him. "It really is."
"Do you like it?" He asked, letting go of the stem.
I shrugged. "I like many pretty things."
"Is that an artist kinda thing?"
"Could be" I replied. "Beautiful things make me want to draw them like, a lot" I confessed. "But it could just be a me-thing."
He turned a bit so that he was facing me. "Do you ever draw flowers?"
"I used to. Not anymore now. It doesn't take long enough. I prefer when things take longer to draw. It's way more satisfying to get it right" I confessed, shutting up all of sudden when I realised I hadn't really told anyone that before.
"Show me" he said softly.
I widened my eyes, not expecting him to say something like that at all. "Really?" I asked, confused, but he didn't seem fazed.
I took a deep breath and took a pencil and the little notebook I always sketched things on out of the pocket of my coat, opening it to a white page. I didn't need to look around to decide which flower to draw, the roses behind Harry being an immediate choice. I sketched it fast, trying to recreate the way the petals were slowly wilting away, and shaded it in a little over five minutes, making sure I got all the details right, before turning the notebook around and showing it to him.
"That was fast" he said, the corners of his lips slightly turning up.
I put the notebook on my knee, carefully tearing the page away and giving it to him. "You can keep it, if you want."
He took it and folded it, putting it into the back pocket of his trousers.
I tried not to think of the fact that it would've probably ended up in a bin as soon as he would've left the house.
He looked in the direction of the door. "I should go" he said, but made no move to stand up.
"I finished the drawing, you can" I told him, watching as he got up and walked towards the backdoor. "By the way" I added, making him stop in his tracks. "I'm glad you saved me from having to go out with Aiden. But I'd rather you didn't ruin my drawing. I don't redraw things in the same way, so every single one is unique." I hesitated a bit before continuing. "It wasn't one I particularly liked or I'd spent a long time on though, so I'm not mad or anything. Just... for the future."
He nodded and went back inside.