Good Morals [Larry Stylinson]

Ch. Twenty-Eight | He's Gone With the Wind

[E: ✔️]
"It meant nothing, that's what I said. And I...mean it," Harry trailed off. "Right. When can we tell Zayn and Liam about this?"

"What? N-never, Niall, no way!"

"So it does mean something, then," the boy raised his voice at his friend, who defeatedly sighed. "Whatever, I messed everything up-"

"You know how many times you've said that?"

"I'm gonna hang up on you, mate," Harry warned, but receives an eye roll. "Get ready for school, lad. We've got three days left, can you believe it? Ah, so excited," Niall cheered. The slightly younger lad bit his lip, nodding to himself. "Yeah," he sighed. "So exciting, lad," he mumbled, "I just wish Mr. Tomlinson and I left it off on a better note, y'know? Even without my feelings, I just wish things were like they were at the beginning. Just normal, before I-"

"Drop it," Niall snapped, "I've had enough, things aren't gonna get better if you're pissy like that. C'mon," he cleared his throat. "I'll make the most of it. We graduate on a Friday, too, you know that? So maybe..." Harry got quiet, "What about going to the club? I know he won't be there, then, will probably be stockpiled up with grading and reviewing our finals," Harry nudged over the phone. He heard his friend tsk before speaking up again, "If the boys and...Gigi and Marina want to come too, then yeah we can. We deserve it anyway. Now, for real, Haz. Hag up and get ready. Wear something nice for yourself, it'll make you feel better. Plus, the weather's going to be real nice today, innit?"

"Yeah, I believe so," Harry smiled, "See you soon," he said before hanging up the phone, setting it on his bed and swinging his legs over the side. Right as he stood up, his phone started ringing again, so he walked over to see who it was and, ironically, it was Zayn. So he hit the answer button and put it on speaker phone, "'Ey! Hazza, you pumped for Friday, I'm guessing?"

"Mhm," Harry hummed. "Great, wanna celebrate, what should we do," Harry could hear a zip from the other end of the phone. He walks over to his closet and opens it, scanning through his clothes. He finds a green button-up t-shirt and a light gray pair of chinos, taking them off the hangers. He sets them on his bed as he undresses, "Um, well, funny you say that, Niall just called me earlier this morning, Just got off the call, actually. I was thinking about going to the club."

Silence, until a quiet, "You sure," from Zayn. Harry sighed heavily, "Yeah, I know, last time didn't end well," he bit his lip, slipping his shirt off and pulling the green one over his head, "but," he paused, "Mr. Tomlinson won't be there, I'm guessing. Why would he? Probably be busy grading things, that's what they do at the end of the year, innit? Besides, what're the chances of it happening again?"

"That's true, I suppose. I mean, it's a time to celebrate."

"Exactly. Now, turn on your camera, tell me what shoes I should wear. And if I need anything else."

So Zayn did, and Harry did as well, doing a spin. "Don't you have a baggy cardigan, like it's knit? Kinda matches the pants. It's goin' 'ta be warm out, though," Zayn thinks. "Hmm, maybe wear those green shoes you got? The high-tops, don't you have a pair? Or are they just," he trails off, watching as Harry walks off-screen in a rush. "Yeah, these," Harry holds up a pair of dark green slip-on vans. "Yeah, I was way off, but I meant those," Zayn gives Harry a thumbs up. "Got to go, lad, classes start in five," Harry reached to his phone to hang up, hearing his mate curse right before ending the call. He laughed a bit as he ran his hand through his hair, spritzing on some of his favorite cologne and grabbing his things, slinging his bag over his shoulders. He ran downstairs and waved bye to his mum (who was home during the days up until next Monday, then back to day shifts and short breaks during the night.)