by: larryafhbu

Harry's eyes scan over the different paintings laid out across the gallery, smiling softly. Over twenty of the artworks were his and most of them were already sold to a buyer willing to pay the hefty price. He couldn't believe he would be standing here at the mere age of twenty-two, painting his name on them for sale.

He felt accomplished and just downright giddy at the fact that someone wanted to buy his work. It made him feel elated and as if maybe becoming a freelance artist was his calling. He walks through the gallery slowly, welcoming people and thanking them for enjoying the work.

"This is absolutely beautiful," a woman says to her husband, pointing at one of Harry's paintings of two men's hands intertwined. He smiles and looks away.

It's an old painting, something that can't be sold for obvious reasons. There are many prejudice people in the world still claiming that homosexuality was unwanted. He walks up to the couple and greets them warmly.

"Are you the artist of this painting?" the woman asks and Harry nods, smiling at the work.

"Well it's beyond breathtaking. I'd love to buy it, but honestly, I can't afford it," the woman frowns.

"I can always lower the price. No one has really favored this painting; more have gone for the much more 'adequate' ones," he explains.

"Oh, how low would you lower it?" she asks hopefully and Harry stares at the painting for a moment.

"Fifty pounds at the most," he offers and the woman seems to have an internal battle with herself. Her husband only rolls his eyes.

"Just get it, Madeline. I can see how much you love it," Harry smiles at him and the woman-Madeline-grins widely.

"Okay. Yeah, okay. We'll take it," Harry smiles again and leads them to the front desk where they exchange money and he explains how they can come pick up the art after the exhibit is over. They leave the gallery and Harry states at the painting with a smile.

It was supposed to be him and his boyfriend-now ex-for their three year anniversary. They split right after Harry did the painting. He never really understood why they went their separate ways, maybe the spark wasn't there anymore. Maybe he found someone better. He doesn't know.

He makes another round through the gallery before telling the manager he's going to go get a quick lunch. Derek, the manager, only nods, continuing to look through the papers.

Harry makes his way out of the gallery, taking a deep breath and letting a small smile make its way onto his face. He was going to a small cafe a few blocks from the gallery. The actual cafe wasn't what he was excited about. The newest artwork by LT was located a block from the cafe. Harry hasn't seen it since last night and he just wanted to get a better look at it.

He walks down the blocks, looking at the gloomy sky. The clouds were covering the sun, almost a common occurrence in England. He continues on his way, nearing the street the graffiti was on. He eventually reached it, making a beeline for the wall that had the work only to stop dead in his feet.

There were men unloading paint Kara and scrubs. Harry frowns deeply, watching as they tried to wash the graffiti off the brick wall before stepping up to them.

"What are you guys doing?" Harry asks.

"Our job," one of the men says sternly.

"That's art. You guys can't just-"

"It's vandalism, not art. It's just a punk kid trying to get attention," the other says with a shrug. Harry feels infuriated.

"It's not vandalism. And he's not a punk kid," he reprimands.

"Oh and you would know? Do you know him?" they ask. Harry's face reddens and he shakes his head.

"No, but his art is amazing and it gives the streets something bright," he offers meekly.

"Listen, this isn't art. What he's doing is illegal. And this isn't bright. It's a mutilated heart for crying out loud," the man says.

"You obviously don't understand the concept of art," Harry mutters.

"What, and you do?"

"As a matter of fact, I do. Actually, my gallery is filled with sold paintings so I must be on my way," Harry says and continues walking. He makes his way to the cafe and buys himself a salad and an iced tea.

He takes a seat by the window, staring out, and watches as the men work on covering up LT's artwork. He looks away, eating his salad slowly. When he looks back up, he doesn't dare look at the wall.

He looks around, stares at the people milling around, entering and exiting shops. As he's watching he sees a man across the street from LT's artwork, just staring at the wall. He's wearing a grey jumper, hood drawn so Harry can't see his face.

The man is leaning against the wall, staring at the men covering the wall. Harry watches him, confused as to why he's just standing there. The man turns and shakes his head, kicking at the wall softly.

Then it clicks.

That could be LT.

Harry has never moved faster. He drops his salad, muttering profanities as it spills on the floor. He cleans up rapidly, throwing it away and grabbing his drink before running out of the cafe. He looks through the streets, seeing the man in the jumper walking away slowly.

Harry runs across the street, apologizing when he bumps into people. He's a few feet behind him when and he's completely out of breath. He stops, leaning over to rest his palms on his knees and taking a deep breath.

"LT!" he calls out and the man suddenly stops but doesn't turn around. Harry almost dances on the spot but before he could, the man makes a run for it.

Harry doesn't waste a second, running after him, calling out to wait. The man continues to run, turning a corner. Harry is a few feet behind and when he turns the corner he expects to find him but the street is clad except for a group of women doing some Sunday shopping.