Summary:
We'll play hide and seek to turn this around (give me love like never before)...
"So here's the thing," he starts. "I didn't mean what I said a few weeks ago to like, hurt your feelings or anything. If you like painting your na...
He really doesn't. But Niall texted him asking if he wanted to get something to eat, and he was walking to the restaurant, and he saw it.
It was sitting on a small white stool, golden and shiny and perfect. All Louis could think about during lunch with Niall was how pretty the thing would look atop of Harry rich and chocolaty curls, make him look sugary sweet and special, and Louis knew he had to buy it. Had to see Harry's cheeky grin when the damn thing is tangled in his curls, imagined him asking if he's a pretty princess, and fuck, Louis pays the thirty for the fucking crown.
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And like, he really didn't mean to buy the panties, either. But as he is cursing himself for being so utterly ridiculous he sees them in the window of a small boutique. They're so lovely, so soft looking. Pink and lazy with 'princess' embroidered over the backside of them with golden little sparkles, and like, they go with the crown. He has to get them.
And so he's weak, whatever.
He keeps the two items wrapped in pink tissue, stuffed in a small gift bag with fucking lace ruffles on the top of it, and yeah, he's pathetic.
He ignores it all, though. He goes and hangs out with Harry, watches his lips curve up, and his cheeks curve in, and his laugh curve out. He pets his face like an icie on the hottest day over summer, and runs his fingers through his hair like trying out new rain boots. They drink strawberry milk, and go on lunch 'dates,' and watch movies that leave them emotionally drained. Louis will wash his back when he's too weak to do it himself, and he'll watch the curls bounce against his shoulders when he finds the boy dancing in his kitchen in the morning.
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(He sees the lotion and the tinted lip balm, and he doesn't mean to add them to the gift bag, but like, it's inevitable.)
Fall down happens when Harry makes waffles in the shape of crowns with his new goddamn princess waffle-maker, and Louis is 109% sure that Harry is an actual, real life, fucking princess. He is pretty, and soft, and gracious, and Louis can't stop thinking about the fact that Harry could slip right into a Disney princess movie. He has big doe eyes and these lovely curls, and Louis is hopelessly in love with the boy. So fuck it, he needs the crown.
