Whispers

“So,” Harry said, fingering through the pieces that Rae was going to use for the art show. “When are you going to let me find my inner artist and paint something? Or is this relationship a strict one way street in the paint department?”

Rae looked up from what she was doing. She was flipping through her drawings and gave him a single arched eyebrow. Harry looked up and smiled at her, his grin cheeky and beautiful, especially for being early in the morning. “Babe, you can barely draw a stick figure without giving it a maleficent limb.”

It was true. Harry’s talents were in literature, and surprisingly music. Rae had discovered that the boy could tinker on instruments at a decent rate. He just was not an artist, and usually left Rae to her own devices when she was making art. “I don’t know,” he ventured, shrugging. We walked towards her, green eyes looking at her every inch of skin. She loved when he did that. It made her feel beautiful. “I think that I might be able to paint decently if I had a good canvas.”

Rae made a face. “Are you suggesting you want to paint me?”

He grinned, large and cheesy. “Strip.” She gave him a look. “Bra and underwear only, I swear this is not an attempt to get in. Last night was brilliant, especially the pillow talk after.”

“Oh?” she asked, but complied, pulling the shirt off her body and looking at him. Harry was obviously restraining as she shimmied her shorts down her legs, smirking at him. “Do you mean the pillow talk in which you reminded me I was out of milk and that you thought Niall’s new play thing may be a hooker? Great conversation.”

He shrugged his big shoulders. “You’re my girlfriend, I’m allowed to tell you weird things.”

“Apparently you’re allowed to finger paint me like a child too.”

Following Harry’s instructions, Rae lay flat on the ground, feeling as if she were making snow angels as Harry moved about the room, picking random paint brushes. Of course, she had to send him back to her cabinet several times so that he wouldn’t put harmful paint on her skin or use her expensive brushes, but finally he was sitting next to her, staring at her.

Rae’s brows furrowed as Harry seemed to make up his mind, dipping a brush in paint and starting on her face. She flinched at the cold of it and giggled when she got used to it, feeling the light sensation as he dotted her nose and then brushed lightly across her cheeks.

Harry was in absolute concentration. Everything about him was serious, from the way that his bubble gum pink tongue slipped between his lips as he thought carefully, and how his breathing was slow and even, the only sound that her ears could pick up.

Though she was in just a bra and underwear, Rae never caught Harry looked at her hungrily once. He simply looked at her with adoration. That was something she never understood, how one moment he could look at her body and think it fragile and beautiful and then next he wanted to ravage it.

But when Harry simply looked at her, just… appreciated her, was her favorite. Nothing in the world felt as good as someone looking at you like you’re beautiful. Especially when it was someone you were in love with.

Working on her, Rae studied him. The way his hands dragged the brush across her pale skin, or the way his jaw worked when he leaned down and planted a random kiss on her shoulder, or the way his eyes flit from one place of skin to the next. It was captivating.

Finally, after what seemed like an eternity, Harry leaned back on his hands, a smile lighting his face. Rae smiled back, unsure of what she was going to look like, when he took her hand in his and pulled her up from the ground, guiding her by the shoulder to her room.

On the wall was a full length mirror, but Harry covered her eyes before she could get to it. “I’m going to explain each one, okay? So no talking. Let me talk.”

She nodded and let him guide her towards it, still covering her eyes. Finally his large hands were removed from her face and she blinked away the bleariness, looking at her reflection, her mouth opening slightly at the many different things he painted. “Harry-”

“Ah!” he raised a finger, standing behind her. In the reflection, she was reminded just how short she was and just how tall Harry was. They were total opposites when it came to the height spectrum; his body could completely encompass her. “No talking. Let’s start, shall we?”

So he did. The first thing he gestured to was her forehead. On her forehead was a haphazardly painted bird, which she could only assume looked roughly like an owl. It was brown paint all smeared together. “That’s an owl. And owl is a symbol of wisdom. It was Athena’s symbol, the Goddess of Wisdom. Because even from the first day I met you, you were wise, always thinking beyond you years.”

Harry moved to her nose next, where there was a pink triangle and whiskers drawn. She was assuming that he was going to say cute and cuddly like a house cat or kitten. She did not expect him to smile and say, “Whiskers for a lion, because you are as brave as a lioness. And you’re not afraid to protect your pride.”

Rae blinked in surprise. She had no idea what she had really thought that Harry was going to paint. Stupid things like blobs and patterns and smiley faces perhaps. But not this.

“And here,” he said, moving to her chin where there were dots of red. “Is blood because you went complete nutter on me last night and bit the bloody hell out of me. I still have marks on my shoulder, you know.”

That is what she expected him to draw. “Sorry,” she mumbled, smirking.

Licking his lips, Harry moved to her chest, where a giant red heart was drawn. It was hard to miss, because it was absolutely astronomical, and there was a very large, very obvious ‘H’ in the middle of it, screaming loud and proud. It made her smile even bigger. “And this is your heart, filled with a giant ‘H’ because that’s where I belong. In your heart. But the ‘H’ is black, because sometimes I’m not always happy,” his tone was quiet as his mind trailed off, thinking back to worse days. “And sometimes even now I get very angry.”

His eyes flickered up to hers in the mirror, the reflection of them haunting. “Keep going.”

He nodded and pointed to her stomach, where he had drawn butterflies in every shade that he could find. “Butterflies on your stomach, because I hope that every time you see me you still get those. I know I often do, so I just… assumed it’s the same for you.” It was. “And last, each leg has a date. One for the date you met me in the bathroom, and one for the day that you let me take you out on a date for the first time.”

Silence fell between them. Harry was warm against Rae’s back as she stared in the mirror, looking at each one of the things that he had painted. They were so beyond her, because even though they were little scrawls on skin, created with no skill or form, they held more meaning than most of the paintings hanging in galleries around the world.

Their relationship had come a long way. Harry still had those flashes of angers where Rae didn’t know if he would make it through. But every mark on her skin, every stroke of that brush, proved that they were in this for the long haul. They weren’t going to ever continue life without the other. It wasn’t not possible.

“They’re beautiful,” Rae whispered, realizing that she had tears in her eye. Before she could wipe it, one fell down her cheek. Harry watched silently before turning her around by the shoulders, looking down at her. “I’ve never… I’ve never seen something so perfect. Thank you.”

“I have.” When she gave him a confused look, he smiled. “Seen something so perfect. She’s staring at me right now.”

Rae’s lips quivered into a smile. “Nothing is perfect, Harry.”

He smiled back. “Feel free to be my nothing.”

*

The sound of someone stumbling then falling resounded in the house as Trystan tripped over herself, hitting the carpet floor. Letting out a string of cusses, she huffed, sitting up and sliding on the heels as she growled and got back up, rushing around the room to find her purse.

It was Rae’s big night for showing her artwork, and Trystan was running late, as usual. No matter how many times she tried or how early she got started, she was always the one running in, shoving deodorant under her arms and smiling and shouting whatever phrase was necessary, like ‘Happy Birthday’ or ‘Merry Christmas.’

Trystan had a very strong belief, that if the rabbit from Alice in Wonderland ever had the mishappence of meeting her, he would fall dead. Not even touching her or looking at her, but breathing the same air of her reoccurring tardiness would simply stop his little heart and he would keel over.

“Fuck,” she cursed, grabbing her purse and running out of the room, not bothering to turn the light back on. “Fuck, shit, fuck, fuck!”

Running and opening the door, Trystan ran smack into someone, squealing and looking up as strong hands steadied her. She reeled backwards when she saw Louis standing there, dressed to the nines with his hair slicked back, eyes dark and smoldering.

“What the fuck are you doing?” she demanded, more surprised that he was holding on to her still than the fact that he was there. In fact, she had no idea why he was there. “You gave me a proper fucking fright, idiot.”

He rolled his eyes. “You’re going to Rae’s, yes?”

“No,” she deadpanned. “I’m dressed up and running out of the house like a total lunatic because that’s what I like to do on my nights off.”

He glared. “I wanted to ask you-"

“Can you ask me later? I’m running la-"

“Dammit Trystan, I wanted to ask you if you would be my date!” his outburst stunned her to silence, her light colored eyes blinking rapidly as she stared at him in utter shock. Of all the things she expected to grace from his lips, that had not been a phrase she had been counting on. “I’m tired of playing this stupid game with you, Trys. So I’m asking you on a date.”

“Me?”

It was his turn to be sarcastic. “No, I’m here to ask my best mates girlfriend on a date.”

She opened her mouth then shut it again, looking like a fish. Louis stood there expectantly, and she couldn’t help but feel a giddiness in her that hadn’t hit her since she was a girl. Trystan didn’t get asked out on dates. At least, not this kind. “Sure,” she heard herself say, nodding her head. “Yes.”

Louis grinned, letting her go. She was disappointed until he linked their fingers, pulling her off of the steps and towards his car idling on the sidewalk. “Let’s go then, slowpoke.”

It was hard to contain the smile the entire time to venue. But it was easier once Trystan was distracted by being pulled into a beautiful an ornate room, filled with amazing art and people who had way too much money to be anything but annoying to Trystan.

Louis and Trystan made their ways around, searching for Rae or Harry while also looking at the art. After years of seeing her best friends drawing, she had to admit that nothing compared to the precise stroke or the intent dot of Rae’s skill. The girl was just too good.

As they moved along, the two of them became less concerned with finding Rae and Harry, and more concerned with saying what they thought the different pieces looked like. Many of them were abstract, so it was easy for the two immature adults to make fun of the lines and paint splattered across canvases.

“This, actually,” Trystan said, Louis turning to face her as she looked at a large canvas, “Looks like my last year of school. Filled with lots of colors because I used to drink until I was absolutely sloshed,” Louis opened his mouth to interject but she held up a finger. “And then most mornings I would vomit it all back up in an array of colors. So congrats… Mar-ee-see-oh-la? Is that an actually name? You made a picture of my vomit.”

“Wasn’t my intention.” Trystan froze as Louis was looking at the ground, trying not to burst into laughter as he rocked back and forth on his heels. So that’s why he had opened his mouth to speak. Trystan slowly turned, coming face to face with an open mouthed Rae and an older gentleman, who was glaring. “But thank you for that… colorful evaluation, Miss…”

“Um, Trystan,” she supplied, giving a wincing smile. “I was kidding… it’s lovely.”

“Hmm. I’ll leave you to your friends, Miss Bastian.”

Rae, Louis and Trystan all watched the man walk away, his nose at a very high inclination as he did so. Rae finally looked back at Trystan, who was red in the face and feeling hot all over. “If it makes you feel better,” her best friend said quietly, “Your mornings did look like that.”

Trystan smiled, feeling loads better. For a moment she thought Rae was going to go all business on her, but Rae was still Rae, even if her artwork was hanging in a fancy place with fancy plaques for names. “Thanks. How is the woman of the hour?”

“Better, now that she’s seen you two together.” Rae flicked her fingers between Louis and Trystan. Louis grinned and bumped shoulders with the blonde, making Trystan roll her eyes with a touch of affection. “Don’t knock anything over, yes? Harry already broke a fake plant.”

“Why am I not surprised?” Louis asked, making Rae sneer good-naturedly as she walked away. “Come on. Let’s go see what we can’t break.”

*

“Dear god,” Harry groaned, rolling his head back. Rae was standing by his side, about to walk off and speak to a woman who was calling her over. She paused to look at him, as if to ask what he was going on about. “Please don’t leave me again. I don’t think I can stand another old woman talking to me.”

“If I recall correctly,” she answered, walking backwards, still facing him, “one of our post sex conversations was that older women love you.”

“Subtle comeback. I see.”

She grinned. “Not really subtle. I’ll keep them coming.”

Turning, she made her way through people, smiling and nodding her head as she went along. She smiled then when her teacher introduced her to a women who had been asking about her paintings, and who had put a bid down to by one. “It really was beautiful,” the woman informed Rae, patting her wrist. Rae grinned happily, stunned by the graciousness. “The skill and the rawness of it? Astounding, especially at such a young age.”

“You words mean the world to me, madam.”

“There was another one that I wanted to bid for,” she explained, nodding her head ash she spoke. “The painting of the young woman crying? The eyes in that painting- I have never seen pain captured so beautiful and heart-breakingly so, young lady. It was phenomenal.”

Rae smiled sadly. It was the picture she hadn’t painted right after her mothers death. And Rae’s favorite piece. “I adore that one. Why did you not put a bid down for it, if you don’t mind my asking?”

“A young gentleman put down a price no one is going to want to out bid,” she laughed, waving her hand. Rae’s heart warmed, her lips grinning in suspicion. Harry had told her not to put that one up, but she had. “He was quite handsome as well, and tall.”

“It must be my boyfriend.”

“Ah, yes,” she nodded, smiling at Rae. “He’s got beautiful green eyes. A beautiful pair. Well I won’t keep you long, dear. I just wanted to tell you that you have talent beyond your years and sadness beyond what you deserve.”

Though Rae took the comment graciously, the last part of the woman’s words struck her. Rae had never thought of herself as sad. She had nothing to be sad over, at least not anymore. She had everything that she wanted, and everything that she needed.

Walking back to Harry, she swaggered up next to him, crossing her arms over her chest, a smugness pulling at her red lips. He looked at her, cocking his head in puzzlement to her expression. “What?”

“Did you think you’d get away with that?”

“With what?”

“Bidding on my favorite painting?” She elbowed him lightly as he stared at her. “The women told me you bid on it. I know you know it’s my favorite.”

Harry’s thick brows pulled together. “I didn’t bid on a painting, Rae.”

It was her turn to look confused. “That woman just told me you did,” she insisted, looking at him seriously. “She said a tall, young man, who was handsome and had-"

Her breath left her. Green eyes.