So, What? // 1D AU ✓

Chapter 4

~I got a brand new attitude,

And I'm gonna wear it tonight~

It was just before 11 when Harry entered the pharmacy with his insurance card in hand, walking straight up to the counter, which didn't have a line. It was late, after all. But he knew that he was about to have a long discussion about how this particular pharmacy didn't have his information, but he was hoping anyways that the online system or whatever is similar enough to the one he does go to get a refill.

"Um, hello," He smiled, standing as far back as possible so the girl won't be able to smell his breath. "I lost my inhaler tonight, and I need a new one."

"What's the name?" She replied with no emotion. Her blonde hair fell in curls on her shoulders, and Harry stared at it for a moment before answering his name.

"I don't have your name in our system, Mr. Styles."

His breath started to come faster. "I don't know how to do all of this!" He admitted. "I have my insurance card, my doctor is asleep, and I need an inhaler before I don't have enough oxygen to my brain!"

The pharmacist stared back at him, no emotion playing out on her face still. She'd been in this business for a long time, apparently. "Sir, I can offer that you buy an over the counter inhaler. Look in aisle two."

He nodded, and not saying thank you, rushed to aisle two to squat down to look at the bottom shelf. Fortunately, before he was prescribed an inhaler, he used one of these for a week or so. It was short-term relief, and that would do for his purposes right now. Just needed to regulate his breathing, fight his husband, and then go to bed. In the morning, he could call the doctor's office and get something real. For now, this red and white box that made his stomach sink would have to do.

Aisle two was on the opposite side of the store from the cashier, so he wove through the aisles to get there. Harry's feet stopped in front of the beauty aisle and the rebellious attitude that Niall the bartender had instilled in him forced him to walk straight the makeup section.

Cole hates when I wear makeup, but I'm damn good at it.

Harry had once, in college, briefly considered applying for a job at Sephora or Mac. Then he had met Cole, who wasn't a fan of boys in makeup, and forced his new boyfriend to stop wearing it and throw everything out.

Now, since he was angry as fuck, it was time. Harry grabbed a basket and started intensely looking at the options. He grabbed teal and black nail polish. Then, eyeliner and a blue eyeshadow pallet. A couple of brushes. Then a nude lipstick and gloss, and he headed to the counter. On the way up, he snagged a blue bandana off the end aisle and put that into the cart.

Suck it, asshole.

A quick interaction, the tired cashier rang up Harry's items and gave him his receipt. "Is there a bathroom?" He asked, holding the bag up slightly to indicate that he meant to use some of the items immediately.