Crash Records || Larry Stylinson

15. Are you sure?

Whispers of "Are you sure?"
"Never have I ever before"
August - Taylor Swift

When Harry was nine, bright eyed, but still so shy, he saved up his pocket money by putting lose change into his sisters old spotty piggy bank. Unlike most people his age, that he knew, he didn't spend it on sweets and toys. Harry's a giver, he loves making people happy, loves giving gifts even when people aren't grateful for them. No one ever appreciated the green eyed boy's kindness, but that didn't stop him for carrying on.

Mother's Day was the reason for his full piggy bank, that he carried to the little shop in the center of town. He had to get the bus by himself and was feeling a little bit lost, but nothing was ever going to stop him from getting the perfect present for his mum. Before Anne even owned the cafe, she was always baking for Gemma's bake sales or for her coffee mornings with her friends and Harry had figured she could do with an apron.

In the shop he spotted a ring. It was made from elastic and small alternating pink and yellow beads. It wasn't really worth almost his entire savings (a grand total of £15 pounds) as it was rather cheap looking, but to him it was beautiful. Thought, he didn't get the ring because his mum was more important.

After walking home with an empty piggy bank and the present in a carrier bag, he quickly went up stairs and wrapped the present in tinfoil as he had no money leftover to spend on wrapping paper.

Harry went to sleep that night, excited to give his present to his mum in the morning. He shouldn't have been excited. She opened it with a smile, as Harry sat next to her eagerly pointing at the 'worlds best mum' cheaply printed on the front.

"That's nice," She said and put it down next to her.

She never wore that apron. She never loved Harry like she should have. Harry should have bought the ring, because then at least he would've been happy.

*

Even whilst trying to recover from a terrible hang over, Harry had to help his mum prepare for the lunch time rush. Shifting around the kitchen, Harry dodged the flour covered surfaces as he searched for the rings that he put to side last night. On which side? He can't remember. He sniffled back the tears in frustration, because he loved those rings. The way the metal darkened in age and wrapped around his fingers. They weren't for decoration. As silly as it sounds, they were for comfort. The green eyed boy finds it so comforting to have something to twist or run his fingers over, when he starts to feel anxious. He also found them incredibly beautiful.

But they were gone. He couldn't find them.

He huffed as he untied the red apron from around his slender waist and pulled it over his head, letting the strap brush through his curls. Quickly he hung it up on one of the empty pegs, next to his mums new flowery apron that he hated.

"Mum?" Harry called out as he walked out of the kitchen. He looked at the till to see his mum, hand over a brown paper bag, packed with cookies, to an older woman. He waited till they had stopped chatting, before trying to grab her attention. "Mum?" He repeated.

Instantly she sighed and turned to look at him, "Yes, Harry?"

"Have you seen my rings?" He asked and flushed in embarrassment. He knows his mum dislikes them.

"Why do you need them?"

"Because I'm off to work," Harry replied as he fiddled with the long sleeves of his stripy top.