Aquarelle [h.s]

fourteen

On Wednesday, it didn't take me long to figure out that something wasn't exactly right.

I hadn't seen Harry since Thursday because I'd had to cancel on him on Monday since I'd got out of work a little too late, which meant that almost a full week had gone by without us seeing each other.

Considering that, it probably shouldn't have been as easy for me to be able to tell that something was off in the instant Harry walked into my studio.

"You look tired" I said as soon as I looked up from the papers I was going through, immediately noticing the dark circles under his light green eyes. I'd decided to leave a spare key under the doormat on that day and texted him about it, so that he could let himself in on his own without me having to open the door for him.

He sent me a little glance as he put the bag of his laptop down next to the white couch on the side of the studio. "I'm fine" he only replied, a bit quicker than usual.

"Are you sure?" I asked for confirmation even though it was clear that he wasn't fine, not wanting to push him.

He gave me a slight nod. "It's only the deadline" he told me, and I nodded, remembering what he'd told me the week before about the book he was editing.

"You can go back home if you're busy. I don't want to keep you from doing what you have to do" I suggested him, and it was true. I didn't particularly need him on that day, I could've just continued the paintings I was working on, and I didn't want him to waste time posing for me if he had so much work to do that he seemed to be losing sleep over it.

"I'm not busy" he replied, and I could tell that, even though it was quite obvious that he had work to do - or at least some sleep to catch up on, he would've never admitted it.

"Okay" I just replied, trying to figure out what would've been the best thing to do next. Should I have just gone ahead and pretended that he was perfectly fine, or should I have tried to help him, or meet him halfway, possibly without him knowing, as I knew he wouldn't have made it as easy if he'd found out? I already knew I couldn't have ignored it, so there was only one thing left to do. It didn't take me long to figure out the next move, as I already knew what would've been helpful in that moment. "So, on the couch" I told him, standing up from the chair and rounding the desk to get everything I needed.

"What?" He asked, seeming to be a bit confused by my words.

"That's where I'm painting you next" I simply told him. I already knew that I didn't really want to paint him, and that I absolutely didn't need to paint him my couch, but it was the only way I knew of to let him get some rest without explicitly telling him to go back home and sleep - which I knew he wouldn't have done, anyway.

"On the couch?" He asked, and for a moment I could sense his own worries.

"Lying down, yeah" I told him, acting as if I didn't even know a single way in which it could've ended up not as planned. "It might take a while, get comfortable."

He send me another unreadable glance, but he ended up sitting down on the couch and taking off his shoes while I grabbed a new canvas and pencil, uneasily lying down just as I moved the easel so that it was next to the couch.

I moved my usual stool so that it was standing in front of the easel at about the same height of his waist, taking the pencil and starting to sketch him in silence even though I knew I wouldn't have had any use of that drawing.

He didn't even last thirty minutes.

As soon as I realised he'd fallen asleep I stood up, being as quiet as possible as I moved the easel away from the couch and removed the new canvas, putting the one I'd been working on since Monday in its place and going back to working on it.