him and i || harry styles

eighteen

azail :

The car ride was quick, with approximately 10 minutes of silence, not the awkward one but rather the comfortable one.
I was shamelessly staring at Harry's side profile the entire time taking his beauty in and every now and then he would turn to me and smile, a simple that would warm my heart.

Once he parked in front of an unrecognizable building we got out of the car heading towards the door as he stopped walking to say "Is it okay if I do something?"

" Depends on the thing " I answer curiosity, taking over me.

He suddenly comes behind me and I don't realize what's happening until his hands come up to cover my sight and I feel my breath quicking as well as my heartbeat when he leans in to whisper in my ear "This, is this okay?" he asks.

" You are going to kill me, aren't you? Is this your torture room...Oh my god or is it one of those red rooms? Harry, please tell me you are not into that type of thing " I manage to joke in spite of the pressure of having him breathing down my neck.

I then hear a chuckle, a loud one full of amusement "You have been watching a lot of horror films, don't you think ?"

" Well Fifty Shades Of Grey is considered a romantic film " I mention matter-of-factly "Have you ever watched it ?" I add in an inquiry tone.

" Haven't chérie, but I might do it now that you mentioned it " he says still laughing.

" You are in for
A ride mate, good luck " I say, eyes still covered.

Then he started guiding us into the space, I could differentiate the emotions I was feeling whether it was apprehension or excitement I didn't know.

We were walking for a few minutes until he came abruptly to a halt, then he started to count " One "

" Two "

" Three "

As he began pulling his hands from my vision, my heartbeat was a little louder than usual with nerves.

But when I opened my eyes, the sight before me was one to completely stun me.

We were in a gallery.

The portraits that are hung across the walls of this spacious room tell the story of their painter in the language of colors and shades, one I'm not fluent but I would spend years trying to master if my teacher is this painter.

They are indescribably beautiful, I'm observing each one slowly as I flip on my heels " These are so pretty Harry " I say in awe of the sight before me.

I promenade through the ample room trying to take each portrait all at once but it was too much, my eyes kept wandering from one to the other as I found myself wanting to know the story behind every single one and what is it about especially the muse to it.

" Are these your work?" I ask as I turn to Harry, he shakes his head "No"

I couldn't help myself as I asked " Then who's is it ?"

" My mom's," he says, his voice in a tone I've never heard him speak in before.

" Well she's super talent " I point out still in awe.

" Was " he whispers a simple word with a shaky voice.

My eyes squint briefly as my brain tries to process what he's implying and when it does my eyes widen so quickly I'm afraid they'll pop out of their place.

" She...p-passed...away...like 3 years ago " he stammers through his words "And her anniversary is in a few weeks " he swallows the visible lump in his throat "So I organized this gallery of her work in celebration of her memory " he finishes the sentence, pulling his lips into a thin line.

I struggled to find the right words to say so I stuck with "oh" and a bewildered expression.

" Do you like them?" he asks approaching me.

I smile as I take his large hand between my two own " I think my earlier reaction explains my thoughts about it pretty well " I say peering at him through my lashes.

His lips form into a genuine smile as he suddenly pulls me into a hug " I always think about how much she would've loved you chérie " he says and I could almost swear I heard him sniff.

" Really, why ?" I ask wrapping my arms around him.

A moment of silence goes by but it's a comfortable one for some reason before he says " Who wouldn't " catching me completely off guard.

I swallow the lump in my throat, trying my best to not take his words to heart.

I pull back from the hug, smiling at him "This is very thoughtful of you Harry, I'm sure she would've loved it "

He smiles back with a hint of sadness in disguise.

I clear my throat as I say " Which one is your favorite ?"

" My favorite one is definitely not here "

" Then where is it ?"

" Where it should be," He says with a sense of longing in his voice "Maybe I'll take you to see it someday "

I go back to promenade in the space, exploring more of the beautiful art before me

We spent the next couple of hours in the gallery, as it turns out he brought me here to get my opinion on the decoration, said it mattered to him.

We sat there talking, laughing, and sometimes just basking in each other's presence for a few hours, and the more I spent time with Harry the more I realized just how much I enjoyed his presence, and the more I also realized the detrimental aftermath of this fake relationship on me.

When my stomach started grumbling giving a sign that it was hungry, Harry offered we go to his place to prepare a meal and maybe watch a film together and I just couldn't find it in me to say no to him anymore.

                                       ~~

- Chapter 18: what can I say, guess I've been feeling a little generous lately;)