AN: Thank you to all of you who have kept up with this story. I love every single one of you.
I realized that I messed up the numbers on my chapter so I fixed that lol...
I also relate to a lot of things in this chapter and maybe some of you do too. Just know that everyone is beautiful in their own way and means something to someone, even if you don't realize it.
~Alex
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"No you didn't," I gasp, feeling the wetness of the paint on my cheek. Amusement was dancing in Harry's eyes as he held the paintbrush in his hand after having just left a streak of purple paint on my face.
"What are you going to do about it?" Harry muses, biting his bottom lip as he smiles mischievously at me.
I grab my paintbrush and dip it into the purple paint, inching closer to him as he stares at me, "You're asking for it," I grin before quickly reaching out and leaving a stripe down his nose.
There was a whirl of paintbrushes and purple paint as we left streaks on each other's faces and clothes, chasing each other around the room.
The feelings that I was feeling right now was something I wanted to feel for the rest of my life. Harry made me happy. He made me feel like I was important not only to him but like I was important in this world. Like my life mattered.
Normally I never feel that. I've always felt like I was just another person put on this planet to live their life and then it be over with, never leaving a mark on anything or anyone. My life didn't have importance and it never really mattered if I was present or not. I was just another boring individual that would never amount to anything and spend their entire life hiding in the shadows. My name wouldn't be remembered forever and would be forgotten years after I'm no longer alive.
I wouldn't make an impact on the world like most celebrities and famous people would.
Now I was finally emerging from those shadows and feeling like my life had some importance. My life was important to someone and they cared if I was there or not. Someone saw me - actually saw me. They didn't see some girl just living out her dream in Italy and owning a flower shop. They saw me as a light in their life and someone they looked forward to seeing every day.
Even though I might not leave an impact on the world, I've made an impact on someone. I've made my mark on the world by meeting someone who thought of me as their world. I mattered. They cared if I was present or not and would forever remember my name.
Harry made life worth living for. He inspired me to make an impact on the world, even if that impact was a small one. It didn't matter if I became famous or not or if I went down in history. None of that stuff mattered when it came to living your life with someone you love.
"You're purple," Harry smiles from underneath me after I had just crawled on top of him.
We were now on the couch after I had just pushed him down, careful not to make any purple marks on the white material.
My legs were straddling his waist as my paintbrush continued to make long stripes of purple across his forehead and cheeks, our lips dangerously close, "So are you."
"Can we call a truce so I can kiss you?" He mumbles while placing his hands underneath my shirt on my waist, tracing small patterns with his thumbs on my skin.
"That all depends on you," I reply, placing my hands on either side of his face, "You have to admit that I won."
He laughs softly, the sound warming my heart as his eyes sparkle, "You won," he says with ease and I smile, my hair falling down into my face as I lean closer to him.
His hands brush my hair away as our lips connect in a soft and sweet kiss, the paint on our cheeks and noses rubbing off onto each other's skin. I couldn't seem to get close enough to him as I pressed my body into his, feeling his warmth radiating through the material of his shirt.
My heart was hammering against my chest and I knew that Harry could feel just how fast it was beating by the way he smiled slightly into the kiss, his cold rings causing me to shiver as they pressed into my skin. The heat between my legs was growing more and more unbearable with each touch of his lips and graze of his fingertips.
I place my hand on his chest and pull away from him. He let out a small whine from our lack of connection and opens his eyes that were glazed over with lust. "What's wrong?" He breathes as his chest rises and falls heavily.
"I need to be getting home. I told McKenna I'd be back tonight," I explain as I climb off of him.
At this point, I felt as if I was just leading him on now and I felt so guilty about it. It wasn't that I didn't want him. I did - I really did - and by the bulge in his pants I could tell he wanted me too. It was just the thought of letting another man see my body completely naked that was making me queasy and hesitant.
Granted, I had worn bikinis in front of him, but that was a whole different situation than when you were about to have sex.
Niall was the first man I ever let see me completely vulnerable right in front of him, and even then I felt insecure.
I think every woman - and man - in the world has insecurities about their body and it's because of the expectations set by men and women. I grew up being insecure about everything that dealt with my body, only to later realize that I didn't need to be insecure. Meeting those expectations was something I didn't need to focus on or worry about. I only needed to focus on myself and what I felt like was the perfect body.
Loving yourself takes time and a lot of patience. You don't just wake up one day and decide that you're okay with your body looking the way it does. That lingering thought of wondering if you look acceptable enough still haunts your mind and leads you right back down into the rabbit hole.
It took me many years to finally feel okay with how I looked and not feel the need to strive for what men found attractive. Even now I still felt insecure, but then I tell myself that I'm beautiful in my own unique way.
It also doesn't help that women put other women down for not looking a certain way. I saw too much body shaming going on in school and wished that it all would just end.
I remembered that Niall felt insecure as well for not having the fit body that every girl strives to find in a guy. I think that's what made me love him even more was knowing that he too had insecurities. I remember watching the way he tensed up when I first touched his stomach, my heart breaking at the thought of him feeling anything less than beautiful.
"Do you want to eat dinner with me before you go?" Harry asks, now sitting up with his hands resting on his knees.
I stifle a laugh as I look at his purple face and clothes, "How about we get cleaned up first and then we eat dinner."
"Okay," he smiles before getting up and taking my hand in his, leading me out of his studio and into his bedroom across the hall, "You can get cleaned up in the bathroom and I'll get you a clean shirt," he kisses my forehead before taking his hand out of mine.
I close the door to the bathroom behind me as I stare at myself in the mirror, smiling once I see how much paint was all over my face and neck. A bit was in my hair as well and I grab a washcloth, wetting it as I run water into the sink. It took a little bit of scrubbing and soap to get the paint completely off of my face and neck, my skin now red from where I rubbed it too harshly.
A knock on the door startles me and I open it to reveal Harry standing there with a pile of clothes in his hands, purple streaks still littering his face and clothes, "Do you mind getting the paint off of me?" He asks softly.
"Sit down," I smile, motioning towards the closed toilet seat and getting a new washcloth. I make sure the water is warm before sticking it underneath the running water, adding a few squirts of soap.
Trying to be as gentle as possible, I start wiping the purple paint off of his face, standing between his legs as I do so. He rests his hands on my hips as I stand in front of him, watching me intently, "Did you know that you furrow your eyebrows and bite the inside of your lip when you concentrate?" Harry asks me and I smile softly at him.
"No, I didn't know that," My hand pushes the hair away from his forehead as I wipe off the paint.
"And when you're reading, you mouth the words as your eyes dart back and forth across the page."
I raise my eyebrows at his words, smiling as he talks, "What else have you picked up on about me?"
"When you get nervous, you can't seem to be still and you start taking deep breaths," he explains, pulling me closer to him by the waistband of my jeans, "and when I touch you," he breathes as he runs his hands along the skin of my stomach, "You stop breathing altogether."
He was right. My breath remained in my throat as his warm fingers and cold rings ran over my skin, making my skin feel as if it were on fire.
I hum softly at his words, forcing myself to breathe as his hands traveled farther up my torso, the ends of his fingers grazing the bottom of my bra, "You're making it hard for me to concentrate again."
Yet he doesn't stop. He starts placing kisses to my stomach through the fabric of my shirt, my grip on the washcloth in my hand becoming tighter as I forced myself to breathe and focus on getting the rest of the paint off of his face.
"You need to change this shirt anyways," he mumbles as he starts lifting the shirt higher up my torso, my skin forming goosebumps from the mixture of his warm touch and the cold air hitting my skin.
"Be still and let me get this paint off of your face," I push his head away from me, lifting his chin up as I start cleaning off his neck.
His eyes looked mischievous as he stared at me, his hands still roaming across my skin, "Your pupils become dilated when you look at me. Why is that?"
"Maybe because you get on my nerves," I reply with a smile, almost completely finished with getting the paint off of him.
"I don't think it's that."
"Then what do you think it is?" I counter him, stopping what I was doing to look at him.
The soft, fluorescent light from the bathroom was washing over the left side of his face as he stared up at me through his long eyelashes, creating a milky white complexion for his skin. The curve of his top lip accented his bottom lip in a satisfying way that made him look almost too good to be true.
Everything about Harry was unreal - from the soft stubble lining his jawline, to the small beauty marks that dotted themselves across his skin like angel kisses.
A true miracle sent from Heaven.
"I'll tell you when I figure it out," he responds.
"Any other habits of mine that you want to bring to my attention?"
He bites the inside of his cheek as he thinks, "Well I wouldn't call this one a habit," he drawls, "but you always smell like flowers and honey."
"Well I do work at a flower shop," I reply, his words making my heart beat faster, "The honey part I can't explain."
"Even when you haven't been at work you smell like flowers. It's like that's just what you always smell like...flowers," Harry mumbles while one of his hands comes up to brush the hair away that had fallen into my eyes. "My Flower."
His flower. Harry's flower.
And yet I considered him to be art. My own personal walking masterpiece. If he was a painting, I like to think that I'd call it Bel Ragazzo.
Beautiful Boy.
God, even words couldn't do him justice. There were just so many countless things about him that were indescribably beautiful and perfect. Every feature seemed to be hand sculpted by God himself, having spent countless hours and days sculpting things just right to make such a beautiful being, breathing glorious life into him before setting him down on this cruel world to bring happiness and undying love.
"You're clean," I mumble, moving away from his addicting touch to rinse the washcloth out in the sink. The sound of clothes hitting the ground draws my attention away from the running water and my eyes widen at the sight in front of me, "Harry!" I squeak, blush breaking out across my face.
He was now just standing in his underwear after having just stripped himself free from his clothes. The black underwear was resting low on his hips, revealing the chiseled v-lines and muscular abdomen of his torso. What was even more noticeable was the large bulge underneath the material of his briefs, my throat becoming dry as I swallow rather harshly.
"I'm just changing," he says with his shit-eating grin, "Although I don't mind if you stare," I pry my eyes away from him as my face becomes redder - if even possible. I shift back and forth on my feet as I feel his gaze on me, feeling as if a weight was being pressed against my chest, "You're nervous."
His words from earlier replay in my mind as I notice I was doing exactly what he described, "You're making me nervous."
"Why?" I feel his breath on my neck as he comes to stand behind me. He moves the hair away from my neck as he attaches his lips onto my skin, nipping, and leaving wet kisses. His chest presses into my back along with the - what seemed to be - growing bulge, "Is it because you like what you see?" He says against my skin, his lips ghosting themselves along my neck.
I only whine in response as my eyes flutter closed, reaching out to turn off the water still running into the sink.
The sensational feeling he was making me feel seemed to be coursing itself throughout my body, attaching itself onto every nerve. One of his hands rested on the center of my back while the other snaked its way around my waist, his fingers fumbling with the button of my jeans.
"Mm," I finally snap out of it, removing his hand away from my now unclasped button, "We need to eat dinner, and then I need to go home."
"Fuck, Aurora," Harry groans, moving away from me while harshly grabbing his sweatpants up from the floor, "Do you just enjoy leading me on or something?"
My eyes widen at his harsh tone and I take a step back from him once I see how dark his eyes have gotten, "No, Harry. I-"
"Really? Because you've done it twice today now and then twice yesterday," he snaps, angrily throwing his shirt on over his head.
"I'm not meaning to, Harry. I'm sorry if you feel that way I just-"
"You just what, Aurora? You just don't want me in that way or you just don't-"
"Let me finish!" I yell, squeezing my eyes shut as I clench my hands into fists by my sides. Tears were starting to form in my eyes as I felt myself starting to get worked up.
God, I hate it when I cry when it comes to arguments.
Harry becomes eerily quiet as he stares at me, his chest heaving up and down as his nostrils flare angrily.
"I do want you, Harry. I want you more than I've ever wanted anything or anyone ever before," I pause, collecting myself before I completely break down, "You're used to seeing beautiful things. Beautiful women. Beautiful bodies. Beautiful faces," My voice cracks as a tear slips from my eye and trails down my cheek. I watch as his eyes become lighter in color, his face softening, "I'm just afraid that you're not going to find me beautiful. I'm afraid that once you see my body - actually see my body - you're going to see all of the little imperfections that don't make me beautiful anymore and you're not going to like what you see."
Tears were now streaming silently down my face and I mentally scold myself for letting him see me cry. I scold myself for letting myself lead him on so many times, just to walk away from him and leave him hanging. I scold myself for feeling this way about my body instead of loving me for me. I scold myself for making Harry upset and causing him to snap.
All of this scolding and putting myself down never leads to any good, but I find myself doing it anyway, hoping that maybe someday these thoughts won't cross my mind anymore and I'll finally learn from my mistakes.
"So I'm sorry for leading you on and making you feel like I don't want you. I'm sorry for upsetting you and making you feel this way," My heart hurts as I take a deep breath, "I'm sorry for everything. I'm so incredibly sorry."
My stomach felt like it was in my throat as my head started a constant throbbing, not seeming to be able to meet his eyes in fear of completely falling apart in front of him.
I hear him come closer to me as I look at the marbled floor, two of his fingers coming to rest underneath my chin as he lifts my head up. Instead of looking at him, I close my eyes, more tears falling over the rims of my eyes and sliding down my cheeks, leaving a cool wet line of salty tears.
Harry softly wipes away my tears with the palms of his hands, his thumbs gently wiping underneath my eyes, tickling my eyelashes. "Look at me, Flower," his warm and sweet minty breath fans across my face as he caresses my cheeks softly in his hands, "Please, my darling."
I reluctantly open my eyes only to have more tears form as I look into the loving warmth of his green irises.
"I never want to hear you put yourself down ever again. Do you hear me, Aurora? Never, ever, ever again," he says and I notice the small pool of tears threatening to spill from his eyes, "and never apologize for something you can't control. I decide how I feel and how to handle it. It's never your fault. Never."
A small sob leaves my lips as his words touch my heart in a way that makes the world stop spinning. He wipes away the tears that fall from my eyes, leaning forward to kiss my cheeks softly.
"You are beautiful, Aurora. Okay? Beautiful. I don't care what anyone else says or tells you. I'm telling you right here and right now that you are stunningly beautiful and always will be in my eyes. There's no possible way that I will ever see you as anything less than beautiful. Imperfections are just things that make you unique, not imperfect. Once I see your body - actually see your body - there's no way in hell that I'm going to find you imperfect. Everyone has what they consider to be imperfections and that makes them insecure when really it should make them feel confident in knowing that they're not like the rest. Imperfections are perfect. Nothing more, nothing less."
Harry pauses, kissing my lips and sending butterflies straight to my stomach.
"I can wait until you're comfortable enough to show me your body. I waited two months to finally taste your honey-like lips, so I can wait for forever if that's how long you need. Just know that once you finally are comfortable enough, I'm going to make sure you know exactly how beautiful you truly are and how much you mean to me. I'm going to make sure that any doubts in your mind about whether or not you're beautiful completely vanish and disappear, making sure they never return again. Because you deserve to feel like the most beautiful woman in the world, even though in my eyes you already are. You're my beautiful flower. My flower. Mine."
And then he kisses me with so much passion and desire that I almost collapse right then and there, grabbing onto his shirt and holding on for dear life as his lips claim me as his glorious and rare masterpiece.
"Flower. My Flower," He whispers against my lips as his tears finally spill over and fall onto my cheeks, "My beautiful, beautiful Flower. So beautiful. Beautiful," His words were like warm honey oozing through my soul and taking over every inch of me.
Flower.
The new nickname was enough for me to confess my love to him right now. Every bone in my body was telling me to do it. Urging me to say those three little words that weren't so little at all.
I love you, my Bel Ragazzo. My miracle sent from Heaven. My masterpiece. I love you.
And yet I couldn't bring myself to do it. No matter how badly I wanted to say them and no matter how badly I meant them, I just couldn't find the strength to say them.
"Will you please stay with me tonight, Flower?" Harry pleads and this time it's me who gently wipes the tears away.
I only nod my head instead of speaking, wrapping my arms around Harry's neck as he picks me up with ease, my legs wrapping around his waist as I lay my head on his shoulder and bury my face into the crook of his neck. I breathe in his soft jasmine scent while placing a kiss to his warm skin.
The soft mattress hits my back as he lays us down on the bed, laying his head on my chest as he lies on top of me with his arms wrapped tightly around my waist. I play with his soft brown curls that were splayed messily around his head, my body instantly becoming warm as his body completely covered mine, acting as a blanket.
"I need to call McKenna and let her know I'm not coming home tonight," I tell Harry softly as my nails travel over his scalp.
"I don't want you to leave me," he whines softly, acting like a big baby.
"I'll just be a second, Capolavoro."
His head perks up at my new nickname for him, smiling as if I just told him he won the lottery. "Capolavoro means masterpiece in Italian, right?" Harry asks and I nod my head with a smile, "You think I'm a masterpiece?"
"I do " I admit, tracing the shape of his lips with the tip of my finger, "I'm your Flower and you're my masterpiece. My Capolavoro."
"You're my Flower and I'm your masterpiece."
"Always," I hum, kissing his lips once he rolls off of me to let me up, "I'll be right back."
I walk across the hall and back into his studio, searching for my phone. Our artwork was still sitting on the two easels sitting side by side, one being noticeably better than the other. I spot my phone sitting on Harry's desk and grab it in my hands, only to let it fall to the floor with a loud clatter as shock rips its was through my body like lightning striking a tree.
That one notification sent my world spinning into a spiral and down into a deep dark hole that I hadn't been in for years.
That one notification changed my life all over again as I repeated the words I read on the screen over and over again.
1 missed call from Niall.
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Whew. Sorry for the long chapter.
~Alex