The Executive & The Artist (H.S)

XXXII

xxxii

*Sexual Content*

NAT wanted to go home.

She wanted her bed and her favourite coffee mug and her strawberry shampoo. She wanted her soft carpet and her warm socks and her bird. Fuck did she want that bird.

Nat wanted to go home, and most of it was because she hadn't seen the prettiest animal in the history of pretty animals in quite some time and fuck did she want that bird.

"Is iPhone doing better?" She asked, leaning with her bum against the bathroom counter as Harry brushed his teeth. Blue foam was covering the sinful pink of his lips and his eyes were matted with sleep but he was still familiar. He was still Harry. Even if she wasn't sure he was hers any longer.

The tired boy nodded, spitting the toothpaste down the drain. "Had to buy him a different type of food 'cos the one we bought last time wasn't at the store. It's the same, like, idea, though. He seems to enjoy it, so." Harry shrugged and scratched at his elaborate ship tattoo casually. Nat understood, but she liked the way he sounded in the mornings so she said "he's not looking poorly anymore?" "I don't really know what ill birds look like, Nat." "I'm pretty sure you'd be able to tell if he was lying on the ground." "Right, right. Well, he isn't. Fit as a fiddle." Nodding, Nat looked to her feet until she felt his gaze on her scalp, soft and comforting. So she looked up.

They mutually stared at each other and it wasn't awkward. It was like they were refamiliarizing themselves with the way Harry's chin had that little cleft in it and how, when Nat smiled, you could see the tooth that never fully grew in towards the back.

And Nat wanted to go home, but as she counted the little dots on Harry's forehead, she realized that maybe she was already there.

"Think Liv made eggy bread" Harry informed, pushing the left side of his curls back behind his ear. "Smells good - maybe a bit burnt, I don't know. Been a bit under the weather lately, my nose isn't up to it's full potential." Nat crinkled her eyebrows together and asked him "hay fever?" and it wasn't, it was called heartbreak (self-diagnosed - the doctor would concur with Nat) but Harry nodded and rubbed at his eye.

Nat nudged her hand into his as they walked (stumbled, really- neither are very coordinated) to the kitchen, feeling closer to her old self than she had in a long time. Thoughts of paintbrushes and canvases still made her heart ache but if she'd gotten over that fear before, she could do it again. And if not, photography had always been something she had an interest in. Maybe it would pay her bills better than the paintings had.

The kitchen was loud and alive. Niall was making his health smoothie shit and Liv was yelling at him for it because "you didn't screw the lid on tight enough" and "Liv, I know what I'm doing" and "when that shit gets all over my kitchen you will be the one scraping it off." And the kitchen was loud and alive, like it always was when they all lived in one, caving-in roof, and she felt closer to her old self than she had in a long time.

"Feeling hungry, Nat?" Niall asked, shoving a plate into her hands without waiting for an answer. Two pieces of eggy bread and some sausage (that was really burnt but Nat wasn't going to say anything) were piled onto the plastic frisbee (they use frisbees as plates - it's cool and all that). "Maybe we should take some of that off - you probably had plenty to eat last night."

And it takes her a second - Liv looks at Nat who looks at Harry who's smirking whilst looking at Niall- and then it dawns on her. It's an innuendo, Niall Horan made a fucking sex innuendo when she's supposed to be eating her eggy bread in peace, and it was so totally Niall that she shouldn't have been surprised, but she was. Because she hadn't been around in a long time, and innuendos were foreign now, but Niall Horan made a fucking sex innuendo during breakfast and Nat thought that maybe they should've gone home earlier.