Epiphany [H.S.] Hiatus

11

Eleven | Enteka | Έντεκα

*Read the A/N in the end
Previously on Epiphany;

Harry went to Eveline's house, he explored it and fall in love with it, he painted her bedroom walls along with her, he fall asleep next to her, he woke up and stayed even more, he ate with her, and he left. But before that, he asked her to come to the studio with him the next day.

-

"Yeah, definitely!" She smiled (even more), "just text me the address of the studio and I'll come whenever I'm finished."

"Sick, so, um, you can take the metro, but when you reach a certain one of which the name I don't remember clearly, just call me and I'll come pick you up, okay?"

"Uh, sure, just tell me which station is the one that I'll have to stop."

"Right." He said and took his phone from his front jeans pocket, and gave it to her. "I'll call you tomorrow morning to tell you which one it is, cool?"

"Yeap," she mumbled.

"Yeah, so. I'm leaving now! Bye!" He said and started walking down the stairs. Before Eveline closed the door for the second time, she heard a faint "don't forget to text me if you liked the candle or not", she smiled and went back to her room, ready to give in sleep.

...

It's strange having this feeling again. Is it adoration? Fondness? Excitement? Anxiety? He wouldn't know, anyway. He never planned on meeting a new girl. He's not quite sure what to expect. All of his life as a celebrity -basically the past ten years- he usually dated someone famous, because it was easier to meet, to understand his lifestyle, etc. etc.. They would ask someone who they had a crush on in an interview and they'd say his name and bam, he would see them and they would go out and they would be together. That simple and quick.

Now? Now Harry has a lovely girl, an artist, a person who has a big heart and big dreams and he can help her making them true. It's almost like helping a fan out, except from the fact she is not an actual fan.

He doesn't know why he got so nervous and didn't asked her to come to the studio sooner but for when she closed her door. That's when he realized he didn't know when he would see her again. She invited him the first time, now it's his turn.

But Harry's sure he doesn't like like her. What he's feeling right now is neither the constant need to be with her, nor anything close to anger because he can't get her out of my head. He knows how he feels when he likes someone, he knows all about those so-called butterflies in the lower part of the stomach, all about the all-nighters trying to stop thinking about a million plots of how his life would probably look and feel like if he was with a specific person. He knows what it feels like to have a crush, to like someone, to love someone. Maybe he doesn't know much about being in love, but he's in no rush. (Yet.)

What he also knows, though, is that he wants to get to know her. She intrigues him; He's said it before and he'll say it again and again and again. She's interesting, and obviously hot, which is honestly one of the best compilations.

He got nervous asking her to come to the studio because, well, the fact that he's had more than a couple of relationships and clings and one-night-stands than he'd possibly like to admit, and that he's a god damn celebrity that apparently everyone has a crush on, does not, in fact, mean that he's over being nervous around girls. Girls that interest him, and girls that are beautiful.

Sometimes he wishes he wasn't a song-writer/singer, but a painter. He wishes he could easily wander his hand on a blank canvas and express what he sees and feels. Words sometimes are not enough. (There's a reason the saying "a picture is a thousand words" exists, after all). There are only that many times you can find words to explain how you feel good enough, and more often than not, you'll disappointingly realize you can't always find more than the ones you've already used before.