Faith • hs •

13 | Night Four

Faith's POV :

With my eyebrows furrowed in anger, the pen in my hand dances across the page hurriedly. For the tenth time this night, I tear the page and toss it away. I groan in full frustration, looking down at the pile of the papers I've managed to crumble into balls.

Usually, when there's something on my mind I start drawing to clear my mind. Obviously, it isn't working this time since my mind can't comprehend anything to draw. And when I try drawing something, it ends up being crap.

Just like my life.

I roll my eyes, and with a huff I drop all of my tools in the bag, standing up on my feet. Grabbing the drawing notepad as well, I turn around while trying to be careful as I walk on the wood of my rooftop. Approaching the ladder, a small yelp escapes my lips when a familiar mop of curls clouds my vision.

Harry's making his way up, just when I'm making my way down.

He slowly raises his head, smiling sheepishly at me. Scowling, I look down at him, waiting for him start moving again in the direction he was coming from.

With crossed arms, I sigh impatiently. He mumbles an 'oh' when he finally gets the point, climbing down the ladder. I carefully get down after him, finally hopping on the grass of my backyard.

Without sparing him a glance or uttering a word, I so casually walk past him and around my house.

Him calling my name stops me in my tracks before I get a hand on the doorknob of the front door.

"Can we just talk?" Harry says, surprising me because I thought he was here again to pick on me into saying I was some psycho or something.

I pull the thin jacket more around my body, while dropping down the bag that holds my art tools and drawings.

I sigh, making my way towards the porch, and sitting down on the steps that lead to it. Soon enough, Harry joins me.

A frown is resting on my face, and I don't know about him, but we're just in an awkward silence as the seconds tick by. I guess neither of us knows what to say, nor how to address the recent argument we were put through.

We turn at the same time towards each other, opening our mouths to talk. Laughs shake our body slowly, our eyes burning into one another.

Harry nods, his intent eyes studying me. It's like he can see the things I imagine, and read through my mind. "You really do have pretty eyes."

Oh please, the only one who has pretty damn eyes is you.

I gulp, not knowing what to reply to that, again. I end up questioning, "Why?"

Harry seems to take his time in answering the question, as he slowly swipes his tongue across his chapped lips to wet them. "You can know a lot about someone from their eyes. I see a lot of things in yours."

Still staring into each other's orbs, our faces are inches apart but there's enough space between us at the same time. What does he mean by that? What does he see in my eyes?

I voice out my thoughts. "Like what?"

Harry's eyes search mine carefully, and just by staring into his, I can't help but admit that his eyes are the most beautiful shade of green I've ever seen in my life. Especially tonight, they're different. They're very radiant, bright, and shining under the moonlight.