Good Morals [Larry Stylinson]

Ch. Seventeen | The Best and the Worst

[E:✔️]

((Photo above applies to later in the chap. It's not that good of a drawing but I wanted to sketch out what I was thinking on the basics of the exterior. Imagine the inside like Hélène Darroze(UK type stuff lol) or Krave(which is more American) or fancy shit like that))

It was finally the weekend, more specifically Sunday; Harry's birthday. Unfortunately, Harry was not sure if his mum was going to let him do much. After that (fit) bastard (Mr. Tomlinson) got Harry suspended for the rest of the week he's been grounded. He could only use his phone when his mum was gone, which (as sad as it sounds) was more often than not, but still. He couldn't have any friends over, either. He hoped she would let it slide since he was going back to school on Monday anyway. He woke up a bit after one in the afternoon; he hadn't gotten much sleep in the few days of being suspended. It didn't matter, though, did it? He stretched and stood up, bending down to grab the t-shirt he threw on the floor last night when he was getting too warm. He shuffled downstairs and saw a plate with some pancakes and a note beside it, along with his phone. He walked over to it, covering his mouth when he let out a long yawn.

Happy 18th, love! I hope you don't hate me too much for working on such an important day. I hope you also realize why you've been grounded, I already said it, but I never expected this from you. I'm glad you've respected the grounding. There's a cake in the fridge and birthday money on the counter. Love you, xx mum

Harry's lips curve into a fond smile at his mother's note. He walks over to where the money was. Three tens and a twenty. His smile widens. He picks up his phone, seeing that Zayn and Gemma had called. He unlocks his phone and opens his contacts, finding his sister's and hitting the call button, setting his phone down and putting it on speaker so he could listen and eat at the same time. He sat at the table with it, starting to eat the still-warm pancakes. The line ended, and he frowned, leaning over to hit the call button again. It declined after two rings. The green-eyed boy stared down at it in confusion. Maybe she had work or schoolwork? But why couldn't answer? She surely didn't have classes on Sunday, right? The boy bit his lip, trying to brush off the pang in his chest. He huffed, and called Zayn, who picked up after the first ring. "Mate! How late did you sleep in," he asked, humor apparent in his voice. "'Bout one," Harry said, his voice muffled by the last bite of pancake. "What's up, then? What are you gonna do for your eighteenth? Or, what are we gonna do?"

"I dunno, maybe just go out. Hit the movies, go to a restaurant, screw 'round at a park. Disturb the peace of innocent citizens."

"Sounds good! What time," Zayn laughed. "I can ask everyone else what time they'd be available. Should I make a group chat?"

"I can real quick, sure," Zayn said. "Right," Harry stood up, taking his plate and fork to the sink, rinsing them with water and putting them out to dry. "Alright, lad, it's set up. Call later or something," Zayn sort-of asks his friend, who hums in agreement. The call ends as Harry picks up his phone, seeing the notification that he's been added to a group chat. He opens his messages.

Zayn: alright lads and lasses, harry and i just talked, what time is everyone able to go out??

Gigi: and do what? x

Niall: its his birthday. remember that

Gigi: right, sorry

Liam: Haz?

I told Zayn we could just go out and mess around. Go to a movie, go to a restaurant, the park.