I ended up telling Harry not to come to mine on Thursday, telling myself that we both needed some time apart to figure things out after the conversation we had on Wednesday, even though I was quite sure that the only one that needed it was me.
The next time our paths were set to cross again was on Monday, after almost a week apart that I spent trying to figure out if all the worry I was going through was worth it to simply have him as a model. Maybe I should've just put my future on hold for a while until I found someone else, because I couldn't help but feel like it would've inevitably been the end of me, and I wasn't even sure why.
I looked up quickly in the second I heard a knocking sound on the door of my studio and I stood up, taking a deep breath and reminding myself to act normally before walking towards the door and opening it.
Harry was waiting on the other side, checking his phone. I let my eyes travel over his body, from the brownish shade of the trousers he was wearing to the thin silvery chain of the necklace around his neck, suddenly realising what I was doing and scooting to the side to allow him to step in.
He sent me a little glance, but walked in anyway, locking his phone and putting it into the pocket of his usual black trench coat. "Hey" he said, the low tone he used making his voice sound deeper than usual, and I gave him a little nod.
"Hi" I replied quietly, closing the door and turning towards him, just in time to see him take off his coat and hang it next to mine. "So uh" I continued, trying my best to sound friendly but keep my distance at the same time, "I was thinking of doing something a bit different today."
He hummed, walking into the studio, and I followed him, carefully walking around him to reach my desk, going through the myriad of papers on there to find the drawing I'd just finished of him.
I didn't really know why I wanted to show it to him considering that his job simply consisted on posing for me, and not giving an opinion about my artworks, but I couldn't help myself. I'd always shown him my drawings of him, it just seemed fair to keep doing that. We both knew that he was so much more than just a model, a nameless canvas, to me, just like I was so much more than someone just randomly taking pictures of him to him.
I finally found the canvas, pressing my lips together when I discovered it was a bit smudged, a faint pencil shadow on the side, that I was quite sure I could've easily removed with an eraser. I put it over the papers I'd piled up on the side and looked up, stopping my actions when I saw what was going on in front of me.
While I was busy Harry had wandered off to the side of the studio, and was now looking at the signs on the wall, standing right in front of it. I studied his side profile, observing the mildly curious but confused look on his face, a faint pout on his lips.
I quietly rounded the desk and walked towards him, stopping at his side and looking up at the wall. "It's my colour palette" I simply said, staring at the squares of different shades on the whiteness of the wall, with little numbers at the bottom. "There's pencils, acrylics and watercolours. I don't really use those ones though, I don't feel really comfortable with them."
"Why on the wall?" He asked, confused, and I shrugged, glancing up at him. The look on his face was less puzzled than before, but it was quite clear that he still had no idea of what was going on, and if I had to be honest neither did I. I didn't really know why I'd decided to colour the wall, it'd just seemed like a good idea at the moment. To be fair, I still didn't regret it. It was nice to always have it there, without having to worry about losing it - as I often used to in the past.
I gave him a little shrug. "I don't really know" I said honestly, and he nodded slightly.
I'd thought it was a fun idea for the acrylics and watercolours, and then I'd just ended up doing the same with the pencils, too. I was aware that a painted wall had the potential to be one of the worst things to use a bunch of pencils on, but after all I only needed to see what colour they were, so I'd never really minded - not as much as I should've, at least.
"Anyway" I said, quickly looking away from him before I could make a habit out of it and walking back to the desk, "as I said, I was thinking of doing something different today. Do you have the change of clothes I asked you to bring?" I leaned back against the desk as I spoke, looking at him as he glanced at me curiously.
He nodded. "All white, correct?" He asked back, and I couldn't help but smile a little. I didn't know why, but it was kind of nice to know that I'd asked him to do something and he'd actually done it. It kind of made no sense, because that was the whole point of him being my model, but I didn't really mind. It reminded me of old times.
"Yeah" I said with a little nod. "I already asked you on the phone, but are you sure they can be stained?" I asked him. "Because I was thinking of having some fun with acrylics, and they could get messed up."
"Sure" he simply replied, and I couldn't help but give him another little nod in reply.
"Would you..." I started asking, but stopped right away, suddenly realising that my question had the potential to sound way more awkward than intended. I sighed, though, when I realised that there wasn't really another way to ask something like that. "Can you get changed now?" I asked him quickly. "The bathroom's on the right" I added just as fast, wanting to avoid the embarrassing situation that would've no doubt ensued if he'd done it right there, in the middle of the room where he was standing.
He didn't say anything, but walked to where he'd left his bag next to the entrance to the studio, taking some white fabric out of it before going out of the room.
I glanced around the room as I waited for him to come back, turning on all the right lights and taking a clean plastic sheet from the dresser on the side of my desk and putting it down on the floor, making sure that it didn't have any creases as I straightened it on the floor. When I was happy about it I walked to the easel on the opposite side of the desk and removed the canvas I'd been playing around with for the last couple of days, putting it on the side of the room before taking a blank one and carefully putting it on.
When I was done I looked up, just to discover that Harry was looking at my actions from the doorway, leaning against the frame of the door, the darkness of its wood contrasting the white of the clothes he was wearing.
I couldn't help but smile a little at the sight. I'd never seen him wearing only white, and now that I had seen him like that, dressed in a fabric so thin that for a second I couldn't help but wonder what a sight it would've been in the wind, I couldn't help but be amazed. He looked so pure in white, a true sight to behold, and I knew I was staring a bit too much, but I couldn't help it.
The way he was so effortlessly beautiful still shocked me to that day. I was like he didn't even need to try in order to look perfect, to the point that I felt like he managed to look even more stunning than usual with the slightest effort. Maybe it was just because I wasn't used to seeing him so often anymore and I wasn't as accustomed to his face as I used to be, but seeing him in such comfortable looks made me wonder how he could look as pretty as he did.
He was just one of those people that would've looked absolutely stunning in whatever they would've chosen to wear, and it was definitely proving true in that moment, because he was wearing a white t-shirt and baggy trousers he'd clearly found at the back of some wardrobe, considering that they seemed to be a bit old, the fabric just the tiniest bit yellowish but still smooth, and he was still managing to take my breath away.
"Come here" I told him, motioning to the plastic sheet, and he moved forward, stopping when he was standing right in the middle of it. "Take off your rings" I said, offering my hand to him, and he easily took them all off, piling them up in my hand. I gave him a little nod and quickly walked to my desk, carefully putting them down on it and turning around to look at him again.
He was standing in the middle of the room, in white standing on white with a white background, and I couldn't help but think that it had been a quite great idea, because he looked even more breathtaking than usual. It always managed to surprise him how he'd ended up looking even better that five years before, his features having refined with time more than I ever thought they could. There was a little uneasiness in his position, that I easily attributed to the faint awkwardness inevitably lingering in the background, or on the unusualness of the situation we were in.
"Alright" I started, not moving from the position I was in as I spoke, "I was thinking of doing something a bit different today. I'd like to take pictures of you painting." I paused, studying the look on his face, trying to determine how he felt about it, but he kept an impassive look, not letting through any of his thoughts about it. "Because you know, it's possible that the majority, if not all, of the artworks that will be chosen will feature you, so I think it would be nice to revert the roles. Basically, a muse becomes the artist kind of thing."
He still didn't say anything, but I didn't really need him to.
I walked past him and grabbed some cans of paint from the corner of the room, bringing them to the front of the desk. "Can I sprinkle you with paint? You can get cleaned up in the bathroom later" I told him, adding the second part quickly, wanting him to know that he wouldn't have had to go home looking like a mess if he'd agreed.
"Okay" he said, and I gave him a little nod before looking down at the colours I had and quickly making a decision.
The white of his clothes was a bit yellowish, so warmer colours would've surely looked way better on it. I thought about using both warm and cold shades, but I felt like the cold ones would've lessened the brightness of the warmer ones, so I quickly pushed the idea away. For a second I thought about using the primary colours, but I realised that the blue would've ended up ruining the autumnal shade the pictures could've easily ended up having otherwise, so I quickly put all the cool shades aside and picked the warmer ones, deciding to start with red.
I diluted the paint with some water and walked back to the dresser, rummaging through the drawers in search of a brush big enough to accomplish the task in a limited amount of time. Once I found it I got back to where I'd left the paint and picked it up, dipping the brush in the colour before picking it up and getting close enough to Harry, flicking the bristles with my fingers in order to sprinkle the paint on his clothes and arms, being careful not to get any on his face or hair, assuming that he wouldn't have appreciated it.
I repeated the same process with the other two shades of paint, yellow and orange, making sure that the final looks were exactly like I would've expected them to be before finally putting it all aside and sending him a little glance before taking the easel and putting it in front of him, deciding not to sprinkle paint on it considering nobody would've been able to see what was on it because of the angle.
I took one of the paintbrushes I usually used to paint with and he gave it a suspicious glance, but took it anyway. I asked him to pretend to be painting something, not worrying about the camera, before turning around and retrieving from where I'd left it on the desk earlier that day.
I turned it on and took a few pictures from different angles, looking at them when I was done to make sure they looked good, a little smile playing on my face when I took in the golden tint they seemed to have, thanks to the artificial light of the studio mixed with the warm light of the sunset coming from the still open window.
"Okay, you can get changed" I then said, surprising him, making me understand that he'd thought I would've made him pose for hours like usual like that, not knowing that I could've never asked him to do that while being literally covered in paint, because that was a bit too ridiculous, even for me.
I kept looking at the pictures as Harry quickly nodded and left the room, barely listening to the sound of the tap water running as it was turned on.
I liked them. There was something I couldn't define about them, and I found myself wondering if I should've drawn them at all, or found some way to use them directly as they were. I turned off the camera and put it down on the desk before moving to the centre of the room again, carefully taking my easel and putting it to the side before lifting the dirty plastic sheet up and folding it, putting it aside to be cleaned on another day.
I glanced around the studio to make sure that everything was where it was supposed to be and that I hadn't left anything lying around before going to sit at my desk, crossing my legs on the chair as I pushed all the papers to the side to have enough room to open my laptop. I should've probably tidied up my studio, but I never seemed to have enough time to do it, and I kind of liked it as it was. It felt homey, which wouldn't have happened if I'd given it a more aseptic look. It made it easier for me to concentrate on drawing before I felt comfortable in it, and I supposed it worked the same way for Harry, but with posing.
I turned on the laptop and I connected the camera to it, quickly saving the new pictures on it as well, wanting to make sure I wouldn't have risked to lose them. Just like I knew I could never redo the same drawing, I'd recently discovered I couldn't take the same pictures again, because they always ended up looking worse than the original ones. I probably just wasn't a very skilled photographer, if I had to be honest, but I had to find a way to work with what I had.
I looked at the pictures again on the screen of my laptop. Maybe I could've fixed the shade a bit, but I still didn't know how I could've used them. I surely didn't regret taking them, though. They were good pictures, and Harry looked amazing in them. I wondered if he would've liked a copy, but I also wondered if he would've liked to see himself like that at all, considering everything. I kind of wanted to hang them up on the wall of the studio. Maybe I would've, one day, when things would've become less awkward between me and Harry. But I honestly couldn't see it happening in the near future. Things were just awkward. I'd tried my very best not to make them be like that on that day, but I'd quickly realised that while I'd definitely made them harder with my behaviour, I hadn't been the one making them so awkward, and to be fair neither had Harry. They were just like that, it lingered in the air around us, no matter what we did or say. The only thing I was left to decide at that point was whether they were too awkward for that whole thing to work out, or not. I definitely would've liked to say they were and move on from anything regarding Harry, but the pictures I'd just taken definitely proved otherwise, and I simply couldn't deny it.
The truth was, Harry definitely was different from all my other models, but not for the reasons I'd given myself for all that time. He wasn't different because he could pose for longer and complained less, or because he was absolutely stunning, or even because he knew he was and so he was confident, dominating a room with ease. He was different, because there was a certain level of understanding between us that I'd never managed to build with any other of my models. An understanding built on the months we'd spent together almost daily, on the fact that in that period we'd learnt to grow together rather than to grow apart, and, even if I didn't want to admit it to myself just yet, on the way my body used to be lit on fire by his simple touch. We'd learnt to pick up on each other's signals, and it was kind of odd to sit there, in that moment, at my desk, and realise that not everything had been washed away by time. We were still doing it, for some weird reason.
Maybe it wasn't about us learning how to be in each other's space with time and effort, maybe it was just us. Even though I still couldn't tell how we'd managed to work so well together - professionally, that is - since the start. We'd always been so different, after all.
I looked back at the pictures, moving the mouse when I discovered that the screen had darkened while I was thinking. I observed every single one of them, smiling to myself when I noticed the concentrated look Harry seemed to have in one of them. It really did look like he was painting something, and I found myself wondering how he would've looked like, if I'd indeed taken a picture of him while he was painting. Would he have had the same look on his face he'd had that time I'd seen him on his laptop? Or would he have seemed more relaxed? I wondered what he would've painted. Probably nothing too complicated, considering that he'd told me multiple times that painting definitely wasn't one of his hobbies, but I was still curious. What would Harry Styles have painted, if he'd known how to paint?
I looked up from the screen quickly when Harry walked into the room, back into the same clothes I'd seen him wear when he'd first entered the studio. It was a quite different look from him, considering I'd got so used to seeing him wear skinny jeans, and those brown trousers surely were nothing like that, but I didn't really mind it. I'd been five years after all, it made sense for him to be dressed like a twenty-five year old instead of like someone that was barely out of his teens.
He sat down in front of me as by then we'd both got used to, and for some seconds we just stared at each other in silence.
"I was thinking" I then said, "what do you think you'd paint?"
He gave me a bit surprised, and a bit confused, look at my question. It was clear that not only he hadn't thought about that, but also hadn't expected me to think about that. "I don't know" he replied honestly, and I gave him a little nod, watching him as he put on his rings again.
"I guess I'm just trying to find a storyline" I admitted, "because to me these pictures look like they have one, and I suppose it would be quite cool if I could come up with one. It'd probably help me to figure out what to do with them" I said honestly. "Do you want to see them?" I asked, suddenly realising that I'd been ranting about pictures that he'd never even seen, quickly turning the screen towards him even before I could finish my question.
"I still don't know how to paint" he replied, and I chuckled.
"It does look like you're painting here, though" I said, tilting the screen a bit so that I could look at them again.
He hummed. "I'm probably painting an ocean, then" he said, the slightest hint of humour in his voice, and I let out a little laugh.
"Would you believe me if I told you I still can't paint those?" I asked him before I could stop myself. I'd promised myself multiple times to never cross that line, but it was just so hard not to. It didn't matter how much I tried to ignore it, we did have a past, and it was just normal for us to have things in common that we could both laugh about. It was a nice change of pace anyway, and it did manage to melt some of the awkwardness that was lingering over us, for me at least.
He slightly puckered his lips before replying. "Honestly? Yes."
I couldn't help but laugh at that, smiling a bit more when he joined me as well with a little chuckle. Of course he'd find a way to make fun of my close to nonexistent ocean painting skills, but I quickly discovered that I didn't mind it. I would've probably got a bit offended if Louis had made the same joke, so I couldn't really tell why I simply found it funny when Harry did it.
All of sudden I heard a door open, and I automatically closed the laptop even before I could realise what was going on. I turned to look towards the door, suddenly feeling like I'd just been caught doing something I wasn't supposed to when Nicholas walked in.
"Hey love, just got off work and I thought I'd come by to say hi and see what you're up to" he nonchalantly said as he walked towards the desk, and I just knew that visit would've turned into a disaster. After all, it was my current boyfriend and my first boyfriend in the same room. That was universally considered a recipe for disaster.
"Oh hi" I replied, smiling at him from where I was sitting. There was a moment of silence, and then I realised that introductions were long overdue. "Nicholas, this is Harry, my model" I said, sighing. "Harry, this is Nicholas, my boyfriend."
"It's great to finally meet you" Nicholas said, offering his hand, the faint hint of something in his voice telling me that that probably wasn't the truth, and that he was just saying it out of politeness than anything else.
Harry looked at his hand, but didn't take it. "It's nice to meet you" he simply said, his voice low, and at that point I was sure that that meeting wouldn't have turned out well.
Nicholas raised an eyebrow, glaring down at him while he comfortably sat on the chair, nothing in his pose or the way he was looking at my boyfriend suggesting that he was feeling overpowered in the slightest. "So you're the one that fucked her and then left her?" He said all of sudden, and I widened my eyes in the second my brain registered those words.
"Nicholas, don't-" I started saying, wanting to tell him that that wasn't exactly how the whole thing had happened, finding it a bit demeaning towards me, or Harry as well. It was ridiculous of him to suggest I'd been conned into sleeping with someone, just as it was ridiculous to suggest that Harry had got with me just so that he could get a quick fuck, because that surely wasn't true.
"No, Sierra" Nicholas said, quickly interrupting me. "That's fucked up, someone has to say it. That's really fucked up, Harry."
I quickly stood up and rounded the desk at that. "Nicholas, why don't you go home? I'll just finish up here and then we'll talk about it" I told him quickly and quietly, walking him to the front door, feeling as if I only was able to breathe again in the second the door was closed after him. I walked back into the studio, just to find Harry standing up. "You don't have to go" I said, but he shook his head.
"I do have to" he replied fast, turning around to look at me, a stormy look in his eyes. "I have things to do."
I stared at him for some seconds, perfectly knowing that he didn't, but also understanding his need to get away in that moment. "Sure" I replied, and he gave me a little nod, quickly walking towards the doorway and taking his bag in the second I allowed him to. I walked to the entrance of the studio, looking at him as he quickly put on his coat before lifting up the bag of his laptop again. "Will you come on Wednesday?"
He stopped with his hand on the metallic handle of the door and turned his head to look at me. "Of course" he simply said, before opening the door and disappearing out of it just as Nicholas had less than five minutes before.
I can't believe Aquarelle is already at 155k! Thank you so much, and I hope you enjoyed this chapter. x
Miki