The Executive & The Artist (H.S)

XVIII

THE walk home was the worst part. 

Because Nat's phone was ringing, and it was raining, and maybe it was her tears or maybe it was just the sting of the raindrops but her eyes hurt, like they'd seen enough and decided they were going to retire. 

The image had been burned into her head; the image of Paul Styles slamming the door to the flat that wasn't hers and calling her a name that wasn't hers and referencing to a boy who, coincidentally, wasn't hers either. She imagined Harry finding out, imagined his face turning red, all the way to the tips of his ears, and letting everything they'd built up crash to the ground.

And they were doomed from the beginning, really, but she didn't think it'd end so soon.

Niall was in the studio until two in the morning, scheduling and planning and framing the artwork Nat hadn't put enough work into, so she gave him the day off today. 

But the walk home was the worst part because Nat's phone was ringing and it was raining, and maybe it was her tears or maybe it was just the rain but her eyes hurt, so she wished she told Niall to work today. If her blonde flatmate was in the studio right now, scheduling and planning and framing the artwork Nat hadn't put enough work into, she wouldn't have to walk another two blocks to her flat. She could turn into the little building nestled between bigger ones and lose herself in watercolours and all the little messages left on the walls by small hands. 

But instead, there she was, trudging through the gloomy city with torturous thoughts plaguing her mind. Thoughts like how the green of Harry's eyes would fade to a mossy colour, fade into swampy anger that meant mad, mad, mad and endings, endings, endings. Her kitchen still had his footprints all over the hardwood no matter how many times she mopped it. And she knew, she knew better than the back of hand, that those damn footprints would only become more profound if she were to never see Harry again.

"Nat, thank God, it took you long enough! We have to tell you something!" Liv's voice resounded through the flat as Nat finally stepped into the space, unable to see her best friend since her voice floated from the Harry-printed kitchen and Nat was in the foyer. "It's really fucking cool so please hurry your arse up, Niall's gonna piss himself if you don't." "No m' not." "Yeah, whatever."

Wiping quickly underneath her eyes with her index, Nat shrugged off her coat and shoes and met them in the Harry-printed kitchen, dressed in her Harry-scented clothes and Harry-infested mind. They both sat at the table, hands intertwined as Liv placed her legs in Niall's lap. The couple smiled at her almost maniacally as Nat asked "you alright?"

"More than alright, my dearest Natalie," Liv grinned, and gestured for Nat to sit. As she got closer, the blonde best friend furrowed her eyebrows and asked "you feeling okay, babe?" to which Nat said "yeah, yeah it was just raining and cold and... yeah. I'm grand."

Niall wasn't convinced but continued on anyway, nudging his girlfriend's side and smiling. It was then that Nat noticed the boxes gathered up outside their bedroom door, crowding up the corridor. That was also when her heart rate accelerated, like it did when Harry got close enough for her to see the gold specks in his eyes, because she knew what they were going to say. 

"We're moving out." 

They were still smiling, but Nat didn't know why. That wasn't something to be happy about. That was... that was bad. "What? Why?" Nat choked out, trying not to sound as betrayed as she felt. Niall cleared his throat and picked up a tiny, yellow piece of clothing.

A baby's shirt. 

A fucking-

"You're pregnant?" Nat said, ignoring Niall placing it down in front of her when she refused to take the fabric from his hands. "Aren't you guys a bit... young? I mean, Niall just put tin foil in the microwave, how're you going to handle a baby? This is... this is, like, big? Aren't you scared? Even a bit? And why-" "You aren't excited?" 

Liv's smile was completely wiped off of her face, replaced by a mix of anger and disappointment. "I thought you'd be happy for us. Why aren't... why aren't you excited? Did we do something or...?" She let her feet drop from Niall's lap and to the floor. The sound they made at the collision was enough to make Nat wince. Niall was just staring at her, all emotion devoid of his features. Nat didn't want to cry, she really didn't, but her best friends were leaving her when she needed them most. They were leaving her with a busy studio she can't handle and an empty, empty flat that even in silence was the loudest place she'd ever been. 

She'd never felt so alone. 

And she knew it was doomed from the beginning, but she never thought everything would crumble around her so quickly. 

Hi guys, sorry for the wait. 

TALK TO ME PLEASE. ASK QUESTIONS, ADD COMMENTS, WHATEVER. I HONESTLY HAVE NO CLUE IF ANY OF YOU ARE ENJOYING THIS OR...? 

Update should be next Sunday. xx