Do share, pretty please with this new Gucci suit on top
here’s a snippet I wrote the second I got out of the shower last night 😅 enjoy the angst (I’m on mobile too (waiting in the rain for nialls concert) so sorry for the no read more cut rip)
Harry huffs once again, blowing the stray hair out of his face with a breath of hot air. He hunches even further over his calculus problem set, trying to regain his concentration as he works at the kitchen table, his mom preparing dinner to his right. He knows his back is going to ache by the time he’s done, but it will be all worth it once his homework is completed to perfection.
His nose twitches, another curl fallen loose now hanging over his forehead and tickling it. He drops his pencil in frustration and uses both hands to wildly rub his irritated face and to push his not quite long enough but still too short hair to the top of his head, tucking what he can behind his ears.
He tries sitting a little more straight as he picks up his pencil again, silently praying his hair stays in place now that his neck isn’t at a severe angle.
The effort is worthless as a tiny little ringlet finds its way from the top of Harry’s head to swinging in front of his right eye. He sighs, resigned, as he brushes back in place for the millionth time.
“Think it’s time for a haircut, don’t you?” his mom speaks up from behind the sink, washing raw chicken off her hands.
Harry’s heart leaps in his chest. “Why would you say that?”
Anne chuckles, the crisp autumn breeze coming in through the cracked window over the sink carrying the sound with it. “You’ve been fussing with it ever since you’ve gotten home. It’s quite long, don’t you think?”
Harry shrugs. He knows his mom is looking at him, but he keeps his eyes locked on his homework, even if the words and numbers appear a jumbled mess now.
“Want me to make an appointment for next week?” she asks innocently.
Harry’s head snaps up fast, his wide eyes meeting hers. “No!”
“I– No. No, thank you.” He drops his head back to his homework, biting his bottom lip as he tries to bottle up everything whirling around inside of him.
“Do you want to grow it out, H? It’s fine if you want to, it just looked like you were fussing too much with it.”
Harry hopes that’s the end of her questions as he attempts to refocus on the work in front of him. Homework. School. That’s what he should be thinking about right now, not a certain blue eyed boy and some girl’s long blonde hair.
And, as per usual, his mom has to go and ruin that. “What caused you to change your mind, sweetie?” The question sounds so innocent, so politely curious, but it’s tearing Harry up on the inside.
Because Louis Tomlinson’s girlfriend has long hair. Because Louis Tomlinson always plays with it, runs his delicate fingers through it. Because Harry wants Louis Tomlinson to play with his hair, he wants to be pampered and touched as sweetly as she gets touched. “Just because. Felt like it.”
Harry looks at his mom to gauge her response, to notice if she sees right through him or not. All she does is smile as she continues to chop up the vegetables in front of her. “Whatever you want, sweetheart.”
Harry appreciates the sentiment, but he wants Louis.
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