drawn - h.s.

ii.

I couldn't take my eyes off of him.



I would like to think of myself as the type of girl, who wouldn't go completely mental over a picture of one boy, she never in her life has met. And I was definitely not going to start giggling, hide the picture under my pillow or start stalking this boy - who obviously had to be famous. It looked as a page torn out from a magazine and the font used to spell out his name was one that belonged in the girly gossip kind of magazines. The bright pink color standing in great contrast to his impossibly green eyes told me his name was Harry.



No what kept me standing there in the abandoned classroom staring at the picture of him, was the simple urge - to draw him. I wanted to recreate each line, each angle, each shadow that made up his perfect features. Features that seemed so perfectly harmonized and yet managed to hold charm and incredible warmth all at the same time.



A small smile crept over my lips, as I imagined how the following seconds going beyond the frozen moment of this photo had occurred. How he would continue fighting that almost smile, but eventually would break into a big grin and his eyes would travel to the floor as a soft chuckle would escape his now parted lips. How his green eyes would continue sparkling. How they would search out all of the interesting things in the room. Liveful. Happily. How he would lead a hand through that messy hair pushing it out of eyes without even noticing doing it. How he would keep fighting breaking into that smile, as if he tried to be mature. Tried to stay serious even though everyone could probably see perfectly well how upbeat and excited he was.



That was what made me smile. That was what sent a light thrill of joy out through my body.



You probably think I'm crazy - how could I possibly imagine so detailed what he would look like, what he would do just the seconds after this frozen moment of time. Right?



The thing is when you draw you just... see more. Notice every little detail, every little angle and soft line. Everything. Every shape, every nuance, just everything. That's what you have to see if you want to recreate it.



So yeah. I could imagine pretty well how the following actions of his would play out since I had been studying body language for years by now. I could easily read people. Tell if something bothered them. If something excited them.



A noise from the hallway snapped me out of my fascination, making me twirl around, while pulling the photo to my chest. My eyes flickering over the room, which still remained empty. I exhaled the air I hadn't noticed I had been holding, as I crossed the room quickly. Carefully folding the picture I hid it in my bag and hurried out of there.



Luckily no one was in the hallway and I didn't meet anyone on my way down the stairs neither. Most had probably gone to the lake nearby to cool off in this unbearable heat after a long day. The guys would show off their tanned well trained bodies and the girls would giggle. Giggle. Giggle. Giggle as if there was no other way to communicate, than letting out weird repeated noises while smiling.



Usually I would stay as far away from the little area of lake shore that made out the local tiny bathing beach as I possibly could. Especially when half of my year spent the afternoon down there.



I escaped still unnoticed out in the backyard with the dull asphalt and those damn rusty swings. The place lay in shadow of the school and I stopped for a second enjoying the cold breeze, which was playing with my brown hair. It felt amazing. As if I could finally breathe freely again. As stepping out of a sauna which had practically been suffocating you for the past 6 hours.



Eyes closed I stood there on the step for a minute feeling my body cool down. On the inside of my eyelids the same image kept flickering over and over. Of a boy fighting to withhold a smile, but his eyes obviously betraying him in the try.



The thought once again made a smile grow into place. Slightly I parted my lips and almost inaudibly stated one word into the warm summer air.



"Harry."





[harry's pov]



"What?" I stated looking up at Niall. I was pretty sure he had just whispered my name even though it had sounded as... I was probably just tired.

"What what?" Niall asked me back his blue eyes clearly amused with his own answer. I shook my head lightly at the blonde lad smiling widely as I focused my attention back on the book in my hands again.



"Nothing."



As my eyes continued over the black printed words, I didn't really capture the meaning of them. My mind clouded with a blurry thought. I was pretty sure the voice uttering my name had been a female's. As if some ... girl had whispered into my ear. But it couldn't be. It was only Niall and me in here in the waiting room of the airport. It couldn't be. It was probably just my imagination.





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