Pretty in Plastic (l.s)

xiii

"Another?" Louis slurs, and kicks his feet like a child. He's sitting at the bar with Liam, and Niall. The two are giving Louis shots, and the doll's too nice to deny them. He gags after every one, but he takes them in stride. The bar tender is keeping an eye on him, Louis can tell because she's always asking if he's alright, and he's happy that someone cares enough to ask because— no, he isn't.

He has Liam, and he has Niall. He has clothes, and he has food. He has more than he ever had as a doll, and he can do what he wants to. There's something nagging him, though. A particular, curly haired man isn't sitting with him, laughing with him, hugging him, and Louis wants that so bad. So, he lets Liam wrap an arm him, pat his knee, and laugh into his neck, but nothing compares to Harry.

"Lou," Niall slips Liam's hands away and nudges the doll, "you don't seem like your usual sunshine self. What's up?"

Louis watches Niall lay his head on the counter, arms folded under him for cushion, and he stares back at Louis with puppy eyes. Niall's cute, now that Louis thinks about it.

"I..." Louis frowns, and Niall raises an eyebrow as he lifts his head. Liam eases himself closer to Louis, interested in the conversation. "I'm okay."

"Louis, it's okay to be anything else but happy." Louis looks at Liam, and blinks. "It's also okay to talk about it."

"Everyone should be happy."

"Sometimes things happen, somebody may hurt your feelings," Louis nods at his words, "and it's okay to be upset with people who do that to you. It's okay to upset with anything that bothers you, and it's okay to say it."

"What if the person gets upset because I said something?"

Niall pats his shoulder. "People who get mad at you for saying how you feel aren't nice people. Nice people will listen to you, talk about it, and apologize."

"What if—?"

"Louis, mate," Liam leans back and motions for a refill, "you will never be happy if you let other people's feelings, and thoughts silence you. The only way to let your sadness or anger go is to talk about it, and that's what you should do. Regardless if people like it or not. Okay?"

Niall squeezes his shoulder, and Louis nods. "Okay."

—————

Harry knocks on the door, and takes a step back. He looks at his shoes, and hears the click of the door. It squeaks open, and he looks up to see Kala in her robe. Her hair is in curlers, and she raises an eyebrow at Harry.

"What're you doing here?" She opens the door wider, and her eyes drag down his outfit. "And what are you wearing?"

"I saw it in the mall." Kala lets him inside. "Louis liked it a lot. I think it looks good on me. He has good taste, right?"

"Are you drunk?" She closes the door, and Harry tries to keep his eyes on her. "You're drunk."

"Tell me I look good." He pouts.

"You look weird." She shakes her head, and he follows her to her room. "I have an extra shirt of yours."

"What's so weird about it?" Harry's confidence starts to fall. Kala doesn't face him, and opens the top drawer.

"That's a woman's shirt, Harry."

"It was classified as men's, actually."

"Please tell me this is a joke. It's too late for this." She faces him. "You know I have neighbors. If they saw you like this, I'd be so damn embarrassed."

Harry blushes in slight shame. "It's a shirt, Kala."

"I'm not dating a f..." Kala takes a deep breath. "You're a man. You aren't some gender queer identity, and you never dressed like that before."

"I can be a man, and still wear this—"

He jumps when Kala slams the drawer shut, and face him. She's fuming. "If you dress like this, I'll be a laughing stock! Everyone will think you're some closeted gay, and I'm some beard! You aren't going to date me, and dress like that, Styles! Understand?"

Harry holds his hands behind his back, brings his legs together, and shrinks forward a little. He stares at the floor with a clenched jaw. "No."

"What?" Kala crosses her arms. "Harry—"

"I like it. So what if you don't?" He stumbles out the room, and she follows him to the front door. "You never like anything I do."

"I like when you listen. Now, put this on." She holds out a shirt, and he nudges her hand back. Kala huffs. "Harry, I'm not joking."

"Louis wouldn't do this." He blurts out, and Kala blinks.

"What?" Harry opens the front door. "What'd you say?"

"You heard me." He stumbles out the home, and walks off. "I should've gone to find him, not you."

"I'm your girl friend, Harry." He stops, and she sighs. "You're drunk, baby. Come back inside. I'll be worried if you leave like this."

Her voice is soft, oozing like honey, and Harry tries so hard to stand his ground. He has to. Kala won't respect him if he doesn't.

"No." He keeps walking.

—————

Louis giggles at Niall's dancing, completely out of it as the three of them make their way down the city street. The bartender at the club asked them to leave when she saw how drunk they were getting, and Louis felt that the cool air was nice enough to walk in.

"I never would've guessed being human would feel so," Louis looks at the sky, "complicated."

"Life is complicated, mate." Niall laughs. "Everything, everyone, every decision, every turn you take. It's all... complicated."

"So how do I make it simple?" Louis mumbles.

"You let go." Liam spreads his arms out as the wind blows. He laughs, and turns to walk backwards. "Let it go! Let it go!"

"Jesus." Niall whispers, and Louis just watches with a confused expression. He giggles, and skips a little. "Be careful, Lou! There's ice!"

The doll doesn't listen. He skips ahead of the two, smiling the entire time. They reach a corner at a traffic light, and Louis hears someone call his name. He skids to a stop, and feels his foot land on a smooth surface. He screams, flailing his arms as he falls backwards.

He feels strong arms wrap around him, and his head lands on a firm surface. He feels heat radiating from who saved him, and he blinks in surprise. He stares at the arms wrapped around him, and blushes. The cherry wood scent is a large clue of who it is, and Louis looks up.

"Be careful." Liam mumbles. "You're too cute to go around hurting yourself."