Pretty in Plastic (l.s)

xxii

Kala sips her wine, and watches Harry with a dead stare. His hands are resting on the table, nails on display, and he knows they're the elephant in the room. Kala texted him earlier, wanting him over for dinner, and he stupidly agreed.

"You know," he starts nervously, "nothing has gender until you create the thought that it does. Nail polish is just paint."

"You think you're being funny, huh?" Kala raises an eyebrow, and places the glass down. "I'm not amused."

"Louis wanted me to—"

"Him? You did this because of him?" She crosses her arms, and Harry chokes on his words as he looks at his empty plate. He hasn't touched a single thing since being here. "I don't ask a lot. I don't ask you to buy me things, take me places, keep me better company. Nothing, Harry."

"I know." He whispers.

"You're so selfish. You go out, ignore me, and do what you want while I'm doing my best to be the girlfriend you need." Her words dig knives into his confidence. "How can you treat me like this? Then you hang out with an openly gay man, follow his... ways, and have the nerve to be around me. I'm going to look like the gay man's cover up, and it's embarrassing. I don't deserve this."

"We're just friends. We wated to spend a day together, and he needed his nails done. I didn't see anything wrong with it. I'm sorry." Kala scoffs at his words, and Harry leans back in his seat.

"I told you I don't like him living with you, and this is why. You're not the Harry I met, know, and love." She frowns. "If you can't be true to the Harry I know, the real you, then we can't be together."

"Kala—"

"I need a man, Harry." She says bluntly, and there's tears in her eyes. "I need my man. If you can't be that, then—"

"Alright!" Harry rushes. There's silence after, and his nerves are on edge. "I—I'll take the polish off."

"And..?" Kala urges, and Harry knows what she wants.

"I can't do that. He's been there when I've been down, and it's his birthday tomorrow—"

"You act as if he's a life line. You don't need him." Harry swallows, and bites his lip. "He does nothing, but make things hard between us. We're fighting right now because he wanted you to get your nails done. You've been ignoring me because he constantly wants attention. He's given you this false sense of security when you're life is falling a part in reality. He isn't good for you, or for us."

She reaches over, and holds his hand. "Please, Harry. Get him out of the apartment. I'm the only one you need, baby. I can be what you need."

—————

Louis sits criss-cross on the floor in front of the couch, and he's watching the front door. The tv is on, playing whatever nonsense Louis left it on earlier, and it's the only source of light. He didn't want to turn the other lights on because he felt it would be too bright. Louis picks at the rug nervously, and his mind races. By his side lays his phone, opened to Harry's text thread. Louis already sent ten messages, each one more worried than the last. No response.

"Please come home," Louis whispers, "please."

Hours pass, and Louis hears the door unlock, and he rises to his knees. His eyes are wide like a child's, and he's quick to bombard Harry when he sees him. "I thought something went wrong! Are you okay!?"

Harry doesn't hug back, pat the doll's hair, or even acknowledge him. He unwraps Louis from his waist, and walks by him. Louis hears sniffling, and he follows Harry like a puppy. He's trying to search for Harry's face, but Harry keeps him from view. "Sit down, Louis."

The doll listens, and Harry turns the kitchen light on. He grabs a cup from the cupboard, his back to Louis, and pours some water in it from the faucet. Louis purses his lip as Harry gulps the refreshment down. "Where were you?"

He can see Harry rubbing his face. Louis frowns when Harry's hand is placed on the edge of the counter, and he sees no polish. "Where's the polish?"

"I was with Kala." Harry mumbles, and they both know it answers both questions. Louis' shoulders sag. Of course it's Kala. "Louis, we need to talk."

"What did she say this time?" Louis cuts in, and Harry's shoulders flex before he sighs. "Whatever she told you, it isn't true."

"Louis, this isn't about her." Harry faces him. His eyes are beady red, nose is running, and his lips are swollen from probably being bitten. Louis knows he's been crying, but he can't figure out why. "We need to talk about us living together. I—I need space."

"What?" Louis' heart sinks. "No, where am I going to go?"

"Gemma has a spare room. She won't mind taking you in." Tears instantly form in Louis' eyes, and he blinks multiple times. "Jesus— don't cry."

"You don't want me?" The doll asks pitifully, and he stands. "What did I do wrong?"

"What?" Harry takes a step forward. "Lou, it's not like that. It's... temporary."

"Why would— she said something?" Harry shakes his head. "You liar."

"This isn't about her. It's about me. I need space—"

"You need to be more confident in yourself—"

"I need time—"

"You need to know your worth—"

He sees Harry clench his fists. "I need to be alone—"

"You need to know who you are—"

"Damn it, Louis!" Harry slams a hand on the counter, and the items on top shake. Louis jumps, and instantly takes a few steps towards the door. "I know what I need, and isn't you!"

Louis grips the wall, and he feels the weight of the world on his shoulders. Harry watches him with anger, and the distance between them feels like the length of all seven oceans combined. "W—What?"

"I don't need you." Harry wipes his eyes. "Okay? Just— go. Leave."

Louis softly places a hand over his heart ever so gently, and walks towards Harry's room. He closes, and locks the door before curling into a ball on the floor. He feels his body begin to tingle after a few minutes, and it gets a little harder to move. Louis clenches his eyes shut, and breathes heavily. I don't need you. Just go. Leave.

Louis whines, but swallows his emotions down and nods. "Okay. Okay, I'll go."