Pretty in Plastic (l.s)

xxiii

The next morning is Christmas Eve. That makes it Louis' birthday, and Harry's day to get him moved out. Kala will be by later to see if he keeps his word, and Harry plans to just so he doesn't have to hear her complain. He still feels extremely guilty, but he knows setting Louis up in Gemma's house will be the best he can do. Plus, he'll still make time to see the doll.

"Fuck." Harry whispers as he rolls off the couch, and scratches his back. His boxers are hanging low, and he doesn't care enough to clean up the pile of clothes he left in the living area. He makes his way towards his room, and knocks. He didn't bother Louis at all last night because he was absolutely terrified of facing the pain he inflicted. He never wants to hurt his best friend, but he knows he has and he doesn't have the balls to confront it. "Louis?"

He knocks again, and there's no response. "I know you're mad, Lou. I'm sorry, but I need to do this to keep the peace. You have to understand."

No answer. He leans against the wall, and crosses his arms. "I'll be back in an hour. I'll give Gems a call, and I need your things packed in boxes. I promise it won't be so bad."

He walks back to the kitchen, and makes himself some breakfast. He debates on doing the same for Louis, and eventually decides he has to. Maybe it will cheer the doll up. His mind subconsciously takes note of the lack of noise from down the hall, and worry begins to build. Once he's eaten and watched the morning news, Harry gets impatient. Louis' plate is cold now, and Harry has to get in his room to get ready for the day.

He goes back to the door, and jiggles the handle. "Lou, unlock the door please." Nothing. "Lou, I'm not joking around now. Please, unlock the door. I need to get inside."

He places his hands on his waist, and takes a deep breath. "Alright, fine. You asked for it."

He grabs a butter knife from the kitchen, and picks the lock. When the door opens, Harry makes a few assessments: the bed in pristine the condition, there's no clothes anywhere, and Louis isn't in sight. Harry walks further inside, and his eyes scan everywhere for the plump man. "Louis?"

He jumps when his foot steps on something, and he looks down. He covers his mouth when he sees a doll with brown hair, blue eyes, and a bright smile staring up at him. Harry slowly bends over, and picks it up. He holds the doll in both of his hands, and swallows hard. "Lou...?"

—————

Harry finishes packing the last box, and wipes his eyes. He stuffs it up into the closet, and looks back at the bed where Louis lays. The doll hasn't come back, even after Harry cried and pleaded, and Harry has a feeling he won't be. It would be an understatement to say Harry feels terribly guilty. His last talk with Louis, and he was so mean to the doll. He only did it to keep Kala happy, really, but now he's regretting it. He just wants a proper goodbye, a hug even, but he can't have it now.

Harry grabs the doll off the bed, and rubs the plastic hair. Louis stares up at him with a permanent smile, and gleaming eyes. If Harry didn't know about last night, he would think Louis's in a state of happiness. Harry sighs, and sniffles. "I know I said you could leave, but I don't think I'm ready to let you go right now."

He places Louis on the night stand, right where he was before he turned human, and Harry stands. He goes back up front, and stops when he sees Louis' phone on the table. He frowns, and picks it up. He doesn't unlock it, scared to face reality that Louis is gone, and contemplates cancelling the payment.

"No," Harry whispers and sees the lock screen of him and Louis smiling, "maybe he'll come back. He'll need it then."

He puts in the password, and his heart sinks. It's open to Harry's text thread, texts Harry never saw when he was with Kala. He knows he put his phone on do not disturb, but not one of these messages went through. He takes his own phone out with a frown, and opens Louis' thread. Nothing.

"How's that?" Harry whispers, and checks the time of the texts. All of them were ten minutes apart, which isn't much time. "What the hell?"

If Harry got these texts, especially the last where Louis's begging for an answer and for him to come home, Harry would have left Kala. He would've came home, and the entire conversation of Louis leaving probably wouldn't have happened. He puts his phone down, and exits Louis' texts. He only sees a few non-game apps, but that's not what catches Harry's eye. In a little organizer, Harry finds a journal app and Instagram. Since when did Louis get Instagram?

He opens the social app first, and looks at Louis' profile. There, he sees selfies, and pictures of Harry. Harry's heart warms, and he reads each caption. Most are just smiling emojis, no words, but the pictures that have Harry are captioned with hearts and "best friend". There aren't any likes or comments, Louis doesn't even have followers, and Harry realizes that it's private. Harry exits out of the app, and locks the phone. He'll look later.

There's a knock on the door, and Harry goes to open it. As expected, Kala stands there in a winter coat with a hat and gloves. Her makeup is done well, and he hair is blown out. She's gorgeous, Harry has to admit, but the glint of mean in her eyes stakes claim that she is not in the mood. Harry scoffs, that makes the two of us.

"Is he gone?" He hums at her question, and lets her in. He takes her coat, and hangs it up. She heads straight to the bedroom when she doesn't see Louis around, and he quickly hides the phone on the table under a couch cushion. He follows her to the back, and finds her holding the doll. "You still have this?"

"Yeah." Harry mumbles, and crosses his arms. He leans against the door frame, and purses his lips.

"Don't you think you're too old? Of all the things to take from the house, it's this."

"He's not made anymore, there's nothing like him." Harry defends. "He's limited, and in perfect in condition thanks to my mother."

"So it's worth something?" Kala raises her eyebrows. "So take it to the pawn shop."

"Absolutely not." Harry walks over, and takes the doll from her. Kala crosses her arms, and huffs. "This is one of the only toys mom kept from my childhood. I didn't grab it for the price, I grabbed it for the attachment."

"You're a grown adult, Harry. Act like one, and think rationally." Kala snaps. "If you wanted something that reminded you of your mother, you shouldn't have grabbed the doll."

"Look," Harry starts to get fed up, "he is mine."

Kala shakes her head, but says nothing else. "Fine. I didn't come here for that, anyway. Let's not argue. I'm sorry."

Harry relaxes, and places Louis back on the night stand. Kala sits on the bed, tugs on his hand, and pouts when Harry sits with distance between them. She moves closer, and holds his hand firmly. "I love you, baby. Thank you for doing this for me."

Harry hums, and feels Kala lay her head on his shoulder. In no time, he finds her straddling his lap with an innocent look in her eyes. It's such a lie, the goodness she wants him to believe in, but he finds himself accepting it. He doesn't want to fight her anymore, he doesn't want to argue, so he lets her kiss his neck and mumble sweet nothings in his ear. Her touch is icy, and the cold in her finger tips sends the wrong kind of chills down his spine. He inhales deeply, closes his eyes, and tries his best to give her what she wants: makeup sex.

His hands fall on her upper thighs, and he squeezes harshly before relaxing his grip. She moans, and lays him back. He makes no movement to take his clothes off, but he lets her strip them bare. He's soft, he knows it, and not even the palm of her hand rubbing against his girth is working. It's wrong.

He should have a smaller, daintier hand wrapped around him. Thinner lips should be whispering into his ear with the voice of a high tenor, thicker thighs should be trapping his frame, and a bigger ass should be visible when he peaks down. There shouldn't be perky breasts, but a flat chest instead. No long hair, but short and wild. What ever Kala is, what ever she looks like, it shouldn't be that. It should be Louis.

His eyes drift over to the doll, and his entire body is filling with disgust. His stomach churns, and the blue eyes stare at him with no emotion. He knows, though, that Louis would be a multitude of things: disappointed, jealous, sad, and angry.

"Babe, why aren't you—?" Harry gags, and shoves her off. She hits the floor, but he doesn't care. He rushes to the bathroom, and pukes his guts out. Tears are falling, and he knows he looks terrible but he doesn't care. He just wants Louis back. "Harry, what the fuck!?"