GRIFFIN E. WALKER
January, 2015

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

Other than to attend my classes, there really wasn't a reason for me to leave the safety of my home. I was alone with Callum being gone, playing crucial part in a lads holiday with his friends, somewhere much warmer than London. This was his way of proving that he didn't work all the time, which he got teased for regularly.

Friday nights were usually spent getting hammered with the party bunch though not this week. The lot of us had quite the work to get done for our classes so holding off on clubbing was the sensible thing to do. In my case, that was the cover excuse. My real excuse would've been that I felt like shit and had no desire to do anything. My self-esteem was on the floor, my will to live practically non-existent. Outsiders must've thought I was a living dead with how I dragged my body back and forth between the apartment and uni, dying on the bus as I made my journeys.

Usually, staying at home was my favourite thing to do. I'd always find something to do, mostly to distract myself from whatever was happening in my life. Nonetheless, it was a fun time. Now, however, with all this fighting and arguing and harsh feelings, I didn't feel it. I couldn't even bring myself to paint. I tried to do it when I got home after the argument but somehow, I knocked the paint down and it went all over the floor. I sat by it and cried for at least half an hour before I started to clean it up then got rid of the idea. Associating one of my favourite things to do with negative feelings and memories wasn't what I wanted.

And it seemed that a certain someone had that thought process as well. Granted, it came as a complete shock and I've rejected it but still. Harry offered me some time out in the form of attending an art exhibition. He wasn't very artistic, he said, apparently, he had no talent. The most he knew about art was to do with colours, those being the primary ones. He felt quite proud of himself when he told me about this and the only thing I could do was laugh. Nevertheless, it was a nice gesture of him to text me about it.

Though, it seemed that things did not wish to stop there. A knock on the front door, without a call from the reception desk, meant that he was right outside. Making a mental note of letting the staff know never to let the him up without consulting me first ever again, I pulled myself away from the sofa and opened the door for him. There, he stood in a pair of dark jeans, boots, a shirt that he failed to button properly and a blazer. The moment the door opened, his cologne travelled down my nose and made me cough as it hit the back of my throat. It resulted in him asking if I was alright before even having the chance to say hello. Waving it down, I asked what he was doing there only to receive a light chuckle with the sake of his head. He hurried me back inside, telling me to get dressed within the next five minutes if we wanted to make it to the exhibition in time.

Considering that I had no proper wear for occasions as fancy as an exhibition, I grabbed pieces I thought would be appropriate. Since Harry himself wore jeans, I fancied myself a pair. Mixing it with a blouse and a long cardigan then later on with ankle boots, I pretty much looked the same as him. He voiced it, of course, mentioning how great it makes him feel to know that he's such a fashion icon. Then, I had to threaten him that I can always stay at home and wallow in self-pity, leaving him to attend this gathering on his own. It managed to shut him up and make me grin at the result, making the lift ride a quiet one.

He drove us to the venue which was nice. It was clear that the tension between us stemmed from the last time we saw each other a.k.a. the night of the argument with everyone. I haven't spoken to anyone about it or to anyone who was involved. Distancing myself seemed like a smart move because I wasn't planning on getting hurt again. Not so soon, anyway. In a couple of other words, I made that clear to Harry since he asked about it. He shared that the only person he spoke to was Katherine. That made sense. They were best friends so bound to get their heads together at some point.

"Do you know anything about this exhibition?" I asked him once we arrived. It seemed much too formal for us to be in jeans then again, we were just a couple of students, looking to spend our evening in a more well-mannered way than going out for drinks. Not that there was anything wrong with the latter, I suppose the posher side of this city preferred these activities to ours. Nevertheless, the feeling I got whenever I entered an art gallery or museum, flooded through me the moment we stepped inside. It gave me that joy, it gave me that freedom. It may sound silly but I oddly felt satisfied, at peace. "Wait, did you say something?" I glanced at him, away from the art that was already displayed as soon as we walked inside. Harry chuckled which made me think he already gave me an answer but I was too busy looking around. "Sorry. This is just so wonderful—wow," I stepped towards one of the paintings on my right, taking in the way the lines met and the colours blended. I wasn't quite as good as the artist behind this piece but it inspired me to try to be better.

Harry quietly followed me around, limiting his words to practically nothing. He'd nod when I'd talk about intricate lines created by the different brushes, the canvas used or its size. He most likely had absolutely no idea what one single word of mine meant in this context but it didn't seem to bother him much. He handed me a glass of champagne when we passed the table, filled with finger food and other treats, though he refused to take one himself, reminding me that he was still driving. Not fussing much about it, I sipped on the beverage as we continued to walk around.

When the artist made a speech, I listened to his every word. He joked about being a university drop-out since it forged him this path to take and it gained me a little nudge from Harry. He obviously hinted at the fact that this could be me which was a little unexpected due to the fact that he's never seen any of my work nor was it my intention to change that. He knew I drew and painted but that's as much knowledge he had on the matter. We were also told he has a couple of social media accounts where he can be found and he'd appreciate it if we engaged with them so as the people began to scatter, I stood there and looked him up.

"Wanna speak to him?" Harry asked me as we remained in the same position. I did a little snooping through his platforms, mostly sharing his work online. It was fascinating. As he asked me the question, I looked up, watching as he nodded his head to the side where the artist stood. He was speaking to some other people, quite into his story which was great to see. I loved when people appreciated art for what it was and desired to know more about the inspiration behind the paintings, the stories, the reasonings.

A couple of moments later, I answered.

"No. You?" he scoffed as though he couldn't believe I'd even ask him that question and shook his head as he rejected my offer. I chuckled and clicked out of the apps to pay my attention to him. "So... wanna tell me why you did this?"

He laughed as he put his hands in the pocket of his jeans. "Did what?"

"Bring me here," I said as I put my phone in my bag. Harry walked around, took a few steps here and there before he turned back around. He shrugged his shoulders as I folded my arms and lifted my left eyebrow in question. He was being hesitant, trying to find an alternative answer as opposed to giving his genuine one. "If you're wondering about your girlfriend's whereabouts, I don't have it. I haven't seen her since everything went down at your place."

"That's not why," he replied right away, not missing a beat in denying my speculations. Humming in response, I found it relieving that he didn't wish to speak of her or the situation. What he said next was not as surprising as I expected his answer to be. "Much like yourself, I needed some timeout."

It was difficult to keep myself from asking why he picked me when he had Katherine there to accompany him but I managed. The moment would've been ruined and one of my favourite places would've been associated with something negative because I knew for a fact one of us would've blown something out of proportion and initiate an argument. In this case, it probably would've been my fault because my mouth was the one, almost ready to spew words out in the open. Thankfully, I kept my lips sealed. Suppose we were both out of energy for a word-fight hence our presence in the building. This was our—or at least it was my—time to refill the batteries. Attending only classes and remaining within the walls of the apartment was draining, especially when one is not mentally in a great place. Being surrounded by people and art, champagne and finger food sounds much more like a place that is able to provide some joy.

To finish off our little event, we went around to look at the rest of the exhibition. I was completely taken by each piece and it sparked my inspiration. My hands itched to touch a brush and swirl it around in the soft paint. As we stepped from one canvas to the other, Harry asked me if I had a favourite from the whole selection. Of course, it was difficult to pin point one because they all looked brilliant.

"You have to pick one," he pushed me and I sighed.

He was being persistent, almost as if he truly wanted to know. It made no sense to me but in the end, he got an answer. In return, he had to give me one. When he just pointed at one, I glared at him and he tilted his head as he asked what I wanted from him. Telling him he had to put a bit of effort into actually finding the one art that spoke to him, he made us walk around again.

Funnily enough, he pointed his ring clad fingers at one specific one. He said he liked the colours, reasoned that they spoke to him. Whilst that's all he saw, my vision begged to differ. That painting was the one I explained to him, what I thought it meant. Perhaps it triggered something in his mind which therefore made it his favourite. Regardless, it made me crack a tiny smile as I packed away the memory.

Taking one final look at the place, with a little sigh, I turned around and followed Harry out of the building. The cold air caressed my cheeks and blew my hair in every way possible. Once we were by the car, Harry unlocked the vehicle and we quickly got inside. Just as I fastened my seatbelt, my stomach growled and it was just a bit louder than I wished it was. Without even saying much, the boy in the driver's seat told me we were going for food and even if I were to reject, he wouldn't care. He told me he was hungry anyway when I reassured him we didn't have to make an extra stop just for me.

Whilst I refused to call it what my mind wanted me to call it, I wondered if he was thinking what I was thinking. It would've been wrong. Not to mention the fact that it'd have played right into Nadine's theory. Not finding it important enough to bring it up and not looking for an argument, I just let it be. It would've made everything weird and awkward and since I had such a nice time at the gallery, ruining it would've been stupid.

But this was all still a date and you know it.

It was not.

How could it have been?

He did not like me. I did not like him. This was simply his way of making up for the awkward situation I was placed in for what happened. Wesley apologised for him when he came to check on me that day, he told me he thought it'd have been smart to have me there to calm down Nadine or Harry if things got out of hand but I got dragged into them as well. That explained why Harry decided to take me to that exhibit.

"Do we do takeaway or eat in?" he asked me when he stopped the car outside of a restaurant. In all honesty, I wanted to take it away but I knew the temptation would've been too crazy if we had to travel with the food. Telling him to go with option two, he pulled the key out of the car, unfastened his seatbelt and we both exited the car.

Thankfully, there wasn't a long line to wait in and we got a table pretty fast. Already knowing what I wanted to eat, my order was taken and so was Harry's after. I fished out my phone from my bag and checked it to see no new texts so I placed it screen down on the table. The starter Harry ordered for us came with our drinks but it was gone as fast. The lad sitting across from me laughed at how quickly I inhaled the mozzarella dippers once we divided it up equally between us and he commented on how he remembered it was my favourite cheese hence his decision to get those.

"So," he put the napkin down and picked up his drink instead, taking a sip to clean his palette. "Did you go home for Christmas?"

"Nope," I shook my head. He gave me a stern look, almost like he felt betrayed. "I didn't see the point in it. I'm sure I wasn't missed, either."

"I'm sure you were missed," he spoke strongly. "What did you do then?"

"The usual."

"What does 'the usual' entail?"

"Binging shows over films. Going for a meal with the cuz. That sorta thing," I answered shortly, shrugging. "What about you? Did your mother like the photos of you on the rollercoasters?"

Harry chuckled at the mention of that, his eyebrows rose up on his forehead a little. "She loved them, yeah. Said they were quite professional."

"I'm sure," I rolled my eyes at his little white lie.

"I had a great time at home. I didn't want to go home but when I got there, I didn't want to leave."

"Maybe you should've stayed there," I mumbled. He seemed to catch onto the meaning behind that statement. If he would've stayed home, we could've avoided that massive argument. Or it wouldn't have happened that way, at least. It was horrible. I had PTSD from that shit.

"Maybe, yeah," he nodded. "Then I thought no, I can't do that. However could I leave Griffin Walker without my fantastic company?"

"I'm sure she could manage," I countered and he couldn't fight it. Even he had to know that out of the two of us, he seemed to miss my company. Otherwise, he wouldn't have texted me before everything went down. Yeah. I hated that shit. Somehow every time I thought about something, the events came running back to me which was very annoying. I wanted to forget it.

For the rest of the time we spent at the restaurant, I tried to fight it off. That meant initiating conversation with Harry. It was difficult to do it because how does one chat to the other without revealing anything too personal? I felt too exposed at the thought of sharing just a tad too much yet at the same time, it still felt like we were in that safety bubble that we lived in before Christmas. It was easy with him because he didn't want me to explain everything. He could kind of tell when to stop bothering a topic from a simple reaction I gave. Sometimes, not even the people closest to me could do that. It sure as hell took a while for my best friend to figure out. Then again, Nadine's talent in reading people was definitely on the beginner level. Her boyfriend was the easiest to read and perhaps through me doing that, he managed to see right through me at the same time.

We chatted about university, we chatted about food, we chatted about the exhibition and we chatted about the future. In the end, we rated the food, the experience and customer service counting towards the whole score. It was out of ten as usual. Harry went with an eight, he reasoned that it was nice to be out for the evening and not cooped up in the study of his brother's place. I gave it a ten because the exhibition was bloody fantastic in itself and I was starving after it so the food tasted amazing. He made a joke regarding how difficult it will be to top this outing and in response, I chuckled. Couldn't say there wouldn't be another, nor could I confirm there would be. I simply had no idea what the future held but I was kind of excited to figure it out.

He dropped me off at home which I thanked him for. As I walked in the reception, I greeted the staff then pressed the button to call the lift. Turning my head to the side, I was not surprised to find that Harry did not leave yet. The amount of times he dropped me off, he never did drive away immediately. It was almost like he waited for me to get in the lift safely and then he stepped on the gas. The thought made me smile as I walked inside the lift and watched the doors close once I pressed the button to my floor.

Tonight, was brilliant.