The Sculpture and The Sculptured (l.s)

seventeen

"Mr. Styles." Harry stops his work, and looks down from his latter. With the moon as his light, he sees an exhausted Elizabeth watching him. "Don't you think you should sleep? It's awfully late."

"I'm almost done with this part." He tries to excuse her. "Did I wake you?"

"No," she folds her arms with a slightly frustrated laugh, "considering I never fell asleep with this noise."

Harry mumbles his apologies, but goes back to work. Louis' departure was about a week ago, and the artist dealt with it by tossing himself into the project. He drowned himself in his work, not wanting to catch the ire of his boss. He sees little of the Tomlinson family, and even less of Zayn but has kept himself dressed in black like everyone else out of respect for Mrs. Tomlinson's death. He wonders if Louis is dressed in black, if he's being allowed to mourn, if he's sleeping and eating well, and if he's indulged his future wife. Guiltily, Harry can admit that his jealousy forces him to think more of Ms. William than anything else.

He knows he pushed Louis to agree to this marriage, but his heart aches at the thought of not being the one Louis comes back to. In this separation, will Louis develop feelings for his match? Will Harry have to face a new man who no longer faces men, let alone fancies him? The sculptor has so many unresolved emotions and thoughts, things he never knew would come up at times like this. He trusts that Louis has been earnest with him, but it's no secret that the muse has been neglected of love and affection. If Ms. William were to give him what Harry has been giving him, would Louis' mind on their affair change?

Rather than think about the possibility of the outcome being the one he doesn't want, Harry has decided to ignore reality in favor of working every day and night with little to no breaks for resting. His stomach may growl, his head may ache, and the yawns may come and go, but Harry stays perched on his latter with a determined expression.

"Mr. Styles," Elizabeth calls again, "please come down from there."

"I'm perfectly fine." Harry says without looking at her.

"Well, we aren't!" The young woman stomps her foot, and crosses her arms. "You are being extremely inconsiderate, and rude to those who rest nearby. For the sake of kindness, I ask you to come down and leave the work for tomorrow morning."

Harry stops, sighs, and decides to listen after sitting still for a moment. It's clear that Elizabeth will bother him all night if he continues. He collects his items off of the ground, and makes his way to the shed to put them away. The maid follows him the entire time, and he feels a sense of agitation bubbling in his gut.

"I did as you asked." He mumbles as he sits on his bed. "Please go to your resting area. There won't be any more sound coming from here until the morning."

Elizabeth huffs, and looks at the ground before looking back up at him. "Forgive me, Mr. Styles, but you appear to be depressed. Did something happen recently?"

"No." Harry ties his hair back with a piece of ribbon, and lays down. "Please close the door, and return to your chambers."

"Have I given you reason not to trust me?" Harry covers his face to stop himself from screaming at the young lady. "You've spoken to no one for a week, have not eaten, and you lack sleep. I'm worried about you."

"Elizabeth," Harry stops her with a cold tone, "you are neither my wife nor a courtship. Why do you care so deeply about what I do? I am a man in his right mind. I know very well what I'm doing, and not doing. I don't need you tell me. Now, I am at my limit with your intrusive behavior and ask that you leave me be for some time."

When he looks over at her, it's hard to make out her expression and reaction since the shed is dark with no light coming in. However, he hears a gentle sniffle and watches her figure as she raises her hand to her face and wipes it. Instantly, Harry regrets his harsh tone. He sits up with pursed lips, and takes a deep breath. Before he can apologize, she steps back from the shed.