Criminal (punk harry styles)

chapter seven

Delilah's P.O.V.

"I know you said you don't want to lose me, but is this really a good idea?"

"Are you questioning my way of thinking, Styles?" I challenged as I vigorously shook the bottle of peroxide in my hands.

"Not at all," he replied coolly, leaning back in the kitchen chair I had forced him into. "I just don't think I'd suite blonde."

"I think you'd suite any hair colour," I winked. "Besides, it doesn't matter if its suites you, it'll give you more protection."

"Whatever you say," he shrugged, turning back around and facing the fridge. I smiled to myself and cracked the tip of the top of the bottle, raking my fingers through his knotty curls. The mixture was thick and didn't work well with his messy hair, so it took me almost half an hour to get the whole bottle into his hair.

"That burns," he moaned as I smudged the last bit into his top curl.

"It's supposed to," I replied. "I think."

"You think?" he echoed, turning back around to with a look of fear. "Do you even know what you're doing?"

"Not really," I admitted, throwing the contents into the bin and pulling off the skin-tight gloves. "But don't worry, I've watched my mom do this millions of times."

"What's your mum like?" he asked, turning his body completely around so his chin rested on the top of the chair.

I thought for a moment, thinking about how strange and crazy my mother was, before shrugging. "Nothing special," I began. "Her hair is never the same colour for more than 2 weeks and she's almost never home so I'm not super close to her, just your average mom."

"She doesn't sound like mine," he frowned.

"Well, what's your's like?"

Harry's face went slightly distant as he thought of his mother, his features flattening out and becoming smooth. He seemed to leave the conversation completely, drifting off into his own world until I cleared my throat. "S-she's had the same hair since I was born," he finally spoke. "And she's like my best friend, I used to tell her everything."

Harry sighed and looked away from me, making me frown. "You must miss her a lot," I mumbled, earning a shrug. A thought came to me. "How about I be your mom?" I offered, grinning at my brilliant plan.

"How are you supposed to be my mother? I'm older than you," he laughed, finally showing signs of being a human.

"It can't be that hard," I thought aloud. "I've basically been your mom for a day now, I'm sure I could continue. You can even call me mommy if you want to."

"No thanks," he rolled his eyes, hugging the towel around his shoulders a little closer as he rose from his spot on the chair and waltzed into the living room.

"Come on," I whined, following him in and gripping onto his arm. "Call me mommy, just once!"

"No, it's weird," he argued.

"Please?"

"Fine," he groaned, ripping his arm from my grasp. "When can I wash this shit out, mommy?"

"In 40 minutes, son," I giggled, patting his shoulder in a motherly way. Harry let out a loud chuckle, turning back to the couch and sprawling across it, careful not to let his now orange hair touch the white leather.

"So what can we do for 40 minutes?" he asked, poking a chunk of haor that had fallen from it's place in the twisted knot I had formed on his head.

"We can watch a movie?" I suggested, pointing to the stacks of DVDs beside the t.v. unit. Harry nodded and pointed at a case, which I realised was Step Brothers.

"Good choice," I approved, placing the DVD into the DVD player and pressing play. The opening credits started to roll and I sat down on Harry's stomach, making him suck in a sharp breath of air.

"I practically know this movie by heart," he boasted, sitting up so that I was in his lap.

"Prove it" I challenged. 

He gave me a detirmined grin before speaking the exact line as the character on the screen, making my eyebrow raise. He continued to do this for the next 40 minutes. Right when the parents were about to announce their divorce, Harry paused the t.v. and pushed me off of his legs.

"Time to wash this smelly shit out," he cheered, clomping upstairs to the bathroom. I followed him up, grabbing bottles of apple shampoo and conditioner along the way.

"Put your head in the sink," I instructed once we were both standing in the cramped bathroom. He bowed down and put his head under the tap, removing the towel from his shoulders as he did. I turned the tap on and squirted some shampoo into my hand, beginning to massage the gloopy mix into his scalp.

"Make sure your eyes are closed," I reminded him.

"I'm not an idiot, Delilah," he said sarcastically, his voice echoing in the small basin. I giggled to myself as the warm water helped lather up the shampoo.

"So how are you liking my hospitality?" I asked as I ran my fingers through his soapy hair.

"It's been amazing," he admitted. "I couldn't ask for a better friend."

"So does that make us best friends?" I asked excitedly.

"I guess," he laughed. "Why would you be so happy about that?"

"I come from a really wealthy family," I sighed, now spreading conditioner onto my palm. "So I don't ever get to associate with many people my age. It's always, 'They're not good enough,' or, 'Their parents don't even own their own business.' I've never reallt had friends."

"Don't you think that's a bit controlling?" Harry questioned.

"It's just for the better of my future," I shrugged, flipping the tap off. "But it would be nice to talk to other girls, ya' know?"

"I guess," Harry muttered, lifting his head from the sink to look at me. His hair was still dripping water, but he somehow made it work so well. His now pale curls were scraggly and out of place, falling into his bright green orbs. In all honesty, he looked hot.

"You can't look yet!" I scolded when he went to look in the mirror, shoving him backwards. At this range I could really look into his eyes, noticing the mix of green also had flecks of blue and grey.

"You look hot," I blurted out, my cheeks turning pink straight after it slipped out. 

"You don't look too bad yourself," he grinned, making my cheeks burn further.

"Shut up," I muttered, making him laugh. I reached into the drawer beside the sink, feeling for the hair clippers.

"What are those for?" he asked as soon as he saw them, eyes narrowing to slits.

"You didn't really think you'd get away with just a new hair colour, did you?" I grinned evilly, turning on the cordless clippers and watching Harry's face slowly turn to terror.

(a/n: weyhey! sorry for the wait, was super busy. Thank you so much for almost 700 reads, like what is happening?! haha. Don't forget to vote and comment, it really motivates me to write. 5 votes,  5 comments pleeeaaase? sorry for any typos, too lazy to edit today.  Inspiration for this chapter came from bleaching my hair! I look like a banana. -.- but hey, HALF WAY TO SILVER BABY! Till next update. ♡)