chiaroscuro

sfumato

sfumato is a technique that gives the illusion of the painting to be veiled in smoke

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(Y/N) awoke in a daze. Looking around, she found herself settled in her room under the white duvet. Memories from last night surfaced slowly.

Dropping the glass. Her cut finger. The blonde man, Magnus. His predatory eyes. A deep feeling of fear. Mr. Styles coming to her aid. Then it's all dark.

She looked to her hands, expecting to see dried blood all over. Instead they were clean, gauze wrapped around the finger she had sliced open. She shakily picked up her phone, checking the time. 12:30 displayed across the top of the screen, showing she had to have been asleep for longer than twelve hours. She sat up, running a hand through her hair.

She tried to process what had happened the night before, but every time she tried to focus on certain details and smooth out blurry scenes, her head hurt too much. She decided maybe a shower would help clear her mind (and she's fairly certain that there's dried blood in her hair), swinging her legs over the side of her bed. She swept the canopy out of the way, finding another card stock note sitting on her side table with her name on it.

The curling font of Mr. Styles' handwriting decorated the inside.

(Y/N),

I have left pamper items in your bathroom. Take the day off.

H.

Before going to the bathroom, she placed the note in the same drawer with the previous one. In the linen closest, items like bath salts, bombs, and bubble mixes occupied a previously sparse shelf. She picked through them, finding several varieties of each item. She doesn't know if it was just emotions from the night before finally making themselves known, but she felt her eyes tear up at the gesture. She'd felt more fear than she ever had before last night, she had halfway accepted the fact that she wasn't going to come out of the encounter unscathed, then Mr. Styles had come out of nowhere like an answer to her silent prayers. Then he cleaned her up, and now went out of his way to get her things to help relax. She wishes she could tell Mr. Styles how much she appreciated this and for everything really. She knew better than to approach him herself, so having to go through Niall would have to do for now.

But she'd deal with that later. Now, she just wanted to soak in a tub of bubbly water and pretend last night hadn't happened.

—————

It had been almost a week since Mr. Styles had company over. She hadn't seen him at all, even going through the manor, not once had he been lounging in the living areas, his wing, or out in the gardens. She began to think he had left again with no memo to her.

She had texted Niall the day after the incident, telling him—to the best of her ability—what happened in the kitchen. He only offered her half explanations, telling her of Magnus's reputation of showing up to gatherings hopped up on drugs and acting more and more out of hand the later the night got. He also promised to relay her thanks to Mr. Styles, as she insisted many times. She had hoped that talking to him would help fill in any gaps in her memory, help clear up the blurred scenes, instead he only gave her assurances that it was okay and not to worry about it any longer. He promised Harry never would allow Magnus into the manor ever again. Although she felt abandoned by her own memory, worried at what it could be that she wasn't remembering, she was eager to leave it behind. She happily went along with his insistence that it was all okay. The gash on her finger was reminder enough of the worst night of her life.

Seeing as it was the fourth day that Mr. Styles had been in town, (Y/N) was sure he would be leaving soon. Although Niall promised to let him know of her appreciation, she wanted to try to let him know herself. The day after, and all the small gifts he had left her, meant a lot to her and she wanted him to know directly from her mouth.