Wicked Games » h.s

v

[Unedited]

❝I'm not brave anymore, darling. I'm all broken. They've broken me.❞

➳➳➳

[Harry's POV]

"Your work is amazing, Mr. Styles."

I smiled politely to whoever came up to congratulate me and tell me how much they loved my work, giving them a small nod in appreciation. It felt so strange to stand here after such a long time, after what I went through.

At first I felt nervous being surrounded by so many people, I didn't know what to expect. They are too curious, they ask too many questions. Fortunately that feeling washed away when I saw the gallery get filled. They didn't ask me anything personal or about the accident. Instead they focused their attention on my work and seemed very pleased by it.

Everyone was here today because of me.

I looked around me smiling at how great Louis had organised everything. Everything looked perfect and I couldn't thank him enough for what he had done for me. Not only for tonight but in general. He put up with my shït and never gave up on me, he helped me through my worst time and he was the reason I was here today. I owed him.

Louis.

He came, smiling, in my direction as if he knew I was thinking about him. He was holding two glasses of champagne in his hands and he approached me, offering one glass to me.

"Thank you." I told him and took it from his hand, taking a small sip from it. It was better to not drink much tonight, I didn't want to have a repeat of last night.

"Isn't it great?" He exclaimed, patting me on the shoulder. I nodded my head and looked down at him smiling.

"It's perfect, Louis. Everything is because of you, you're the best partner and friend someone can have. Thank you." I told him, emphasising each word.

"Oh, stop it you, you're making me blush." He joked and looked at the ground as if getting embarrassed by what I just said.

I laughed and shook my head at him.

"You're unbelievable." I murmured.

"But you can't do without me." He stated and I nodded.

"True."

He grinned widely and lifted his glass towards me before bringing it under his nose, taking in the strong scent, before taking a sip. He cringed as the liquid ran down his throat and he looked at me. "I never liked alcohol." He said.

My gaze moved towards a man standing beside us, in front of a piece I was most proud of. I didn't wanted to bring it with me here at first, but Louis insisted that I should. It was the best thing I have ever painted.

"What do you think?" I asked him, walking away from Louis.

He turned at the sound of my voice, giving me a wide grin. "It's great. I think you're a talented man, Mr. Styles."

"Thanks."

"I'm only speaking the truth, son." He replied, giving my arm a small squeeze. He was an old, short man, his hair was grey and so was the beard covering his chin and wrinkles marked his face. By the way his light blue eyes looked at the painting in front of us I could tell that he was really telling me the truth and not just trying to act nice. He looked fascinated by my work.