Pretty in Plastic (l.s)

xv

The bell chimes as Harry walks in. He walks by everyone, and tugs his hat further down on his curls. He doesn't mumble his usual hello's, he doesn't look at anyone, and he doesn't bother setting up like usual. He only came in because he missed too much work. Otherwise, he would be home trying to make up with Louis.

He sighs when Jo turns the 'closed' sign to 'open', and the door swings open within minutes. "Hello, welcome to Jo's shack. How may I help you?"

He hears the familiar clicks of the heels, and sees a familiar hand lay across the counter. Kala's nails are freshly done, sharp and shiny, but Harry doesn't bother to compliment her.

"We need to talk."

"I'm working. Come back at twelve when I'm on break." Harry says robotically, and he forces his body to start cleaning. Just so he wouldn't look bored.

"Like hell I will." Kala huffs, and Harry stops sweeping. "I'm already here."

"It's Friday, our busiest day. We'll have a lot of customers coming in so I can't talk until my lunch. Come back later."

"I said no."

"Damn it, Kala— I said go!" He drops the broom, and Kala flinches a little. She puts her hand over her chest, and frowns. "You have no respect for me or my job."

"You're a cashier. It's nothing huge."

Harry watches her with distain, but he says nothing. He feels too tired, and upset to argue any more. "At least buy something. Don't just stand there."

Kala hums, pretending to look at the shelves. "Fine. What made you act like that last night?"

"Like what?" Harry whispers. His only hope of dialing the tension down is by playing stupid. It's not the first time he's done this, and he's sure it won't be the last.

Kala side eyes him, and grabs a chocolate bar. She turns it over, and reads the ingredients.

"You don't eat chocolate." Harry says automatically. "You break out too easily from it."

"Oh? I'm shocked you know that."

"I know you pretty well." Harry grumbles as he starts sweeping again. "Sadly."

Kala puts the bar down. "That. See, that's what you did last night."

"Did what?"

"Don't play stupid, Harry. You keep saying subliminal shit. If you're angry with me, say it."

"What good will that do?" He stops, and looks at her. "All you'll do is cry, say sorry, and be rude again."

"Rude?" Kala crosses her arms.

"I can't express myself with you." Harry clenches the broom. "I felt so confident in that shirt, and you tore me down without a damn thought of how I would feel."

"You don't look good in sheer shirts. Your back-ne shows." Harry touches his back, and frowns. "No one wants to see pimples, and zits."

"My acne isn't that bad. It's mostly scars, and the pimples go away within days when I treat them."

Kala leans on the counter. "No one wants to tell you. I say these things to help you. If you know what works and doesn't work, then you can fix it."

Harry looks down, feeling gloomy. Kala doesn't stop, though. "You're extremely handsome, baby. You're the love of my life, and no one's going to accept those flaws when they see them. I'm meant for you, and you're meant for me. You're mine so I accept you for who you are. Nobody else loves you that much, baby. You know I don't mean to upset you, but I want us to be honest with each other. That includes looks, okay?"