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Louis is finger painting the first time he sees him. He wanted to play Legos with Stan and the other boys, but the space on the circle carpet was already overcrowded and Miss Carrie had lead him over to the finger painting station. He had stared up at her with wide, curious blue eyes like are you kidding me? but now he’s got a different color on each of his fingers, and he thinks it’s quite nice over here by himself. He’s just dipped the middle finger of his left hand into the purple paint – because purple is awesome, thank you very much – when he looks up to see a boy in the doorway.
At first all he sees is hair. Really, that’s it. There’s too much of it and it’s wild and curly and brown and Louis’ first thought is how d’ya figure he manages to fit a hat over all that in the winter when it’s cold? His hair probably keeps his ears warm though, Louis supposes.
The boy is hunched over, like he’s in pain or something, but then he looks up and Louis' vision is filled with green eyes. They’re glossy and too bright, red-rimmed too, like maybe he’s been crying. The boy has his hand grasped in some woman’s who must be his mum, and Louis wants to laugh because he doesn’t hold his mum’s hand anymore. He’s a big boy, grown up now. Only holds her hand when he’s crossing the street, but that’s more because she makes him. Then he feels bad for wanting to laugh, because maybe the boy’s mum makes him hold her hand too.
Louis watches as Miss Carrie leads the boy away from his mum and over to where Louis is standing at the easels. He is much too tiny, skinny like he hasn’t had a good lunch, and has more hair than body weight probably. He doesn’t meet Louis’ eyes, just trudges along like someone just stole his favorite toy. And maybe someone did, maybe that’s why he’s here. It wasn’t Louis, that’s for sure. He doesn’t remember stealing any toys at least. He can be quite forgetful though, picking up things that aren’t his but he thinks might be.
Miss Carrie crouches down to Louis’ level so he doesn’t have to look up to see her face. “Louis, this is Harry.” Louis gives this Harry an once over, eyes narrowing suspiciously. “He’s new here. Is it okay if he paints with you?”
Louis nods quickly, his hair falling into his eyes a bit, and he pushes it up with the back of his hand. Miss Carrie gestures to the easel next to Harry and situates the boy in front of it, throwing a plastic smock over him so he doesn’t accidentally get his clothes all messy. Louis looks down at his own and absentmindedly draws a happy face with his purple colored finger on his sheet. Miss Carrie says more things, but Louis isn’t paying attention. He’s staring at the boy’s curls, fighting the temptation to pull at one of them and see if it springs back into place.
When she walks away, Louis turns back to his own painting. “I’m drawing a robot,” he explains. “You do know what robots are, don’t you?”
The boy nods quickly, picks up a paintbrush because apparently he’s too cool for finger painting, and dips it into the orange. He just stands there with it, though, staring at the blank roll of paper in front of him.
Louis forgets about painting, and the fact that his hands are dipped in colors, and scratches at his cheek with one of his fingers. He shrieks a little in surprise at the cool paint that meets his skin and nearly jumps in the air with the realization that now he’s got paint on his face, and really, he’s much too old for this. He should have said so in the first place.
The boy – Harry – looks over. A grin breaks out over his face and he erupts into a fit of giggles.
“You’re orange.”
Louis frowns and raises his hand so he can rub it away, but Harry reaches out and stops him, shaking his head.
“Orange is my favorite color,” he says, like that explains anything, but he’s still grinning and he’s got a dimple in his cheek, so Louis nods and thinks yeah, alright and uses his red covered finger to paint a strip next to Harry’s nose.
“Red is my favorite color. Now we’re the same.”
They get in trouble, of course. Miss Carrie says something about how they’re supposed to be painting the canvas’ not each other, but Louis gets into trouble all the time so it’s okay and when he looks over at Harry and sees that shy smile on his face, he thinks even if his mum gets upset at him, it’ll be worth it in the end.