Pretty in Plastic (l.s)

xxv

Extra updates this weekend cause of the holidays xx

Harry neatly tucks his shirt into his high waisted pants, and looks in the mirror. He does a few poses: right side, left side, peaking over the shoulder. He hums, brushes his hair back, and sprits on his cologne. He walks out of the bathroom, grabs the jacket on the bed, and puts it on.

"Looks good?" He says to the doll on his night stand, and sits to put his shoes on. "I should be home late tonight. Wish me luck with the family, I guess."

He grabs the watch sitting next to Louis, and puts it on. He looks at his nails, and takes note of how bare they are. He looks back at the doll, stiff and lifeless, and sucks his teeth. "Wish you were here, Lou. I mean alive, and by my side."

He sighs, and lays back on the bed. He stares at the ceiling, and he feels like staying home. He hasn't given himself the chance to cry properly over Louis because of work, and now family. He can feel himself ready to burst. Every moment of silence in the apartment has his heart quaking, and eyes watering.

He stands, adjusts his clothes, and grabs his keys. Before he leaves the bedroom, he turns back to the nightstand. "Miss you, butterfly."

—————

"Harry!" He smiles when his grandmother reaches up for his cheeks, pinching them and bringing him down so she can see his face. "My handsome boy, I've missed you."

"I missed you too, grandmom." He hugs her, and kisses her forehead. "You look good. Are you doing well?"

"I'm doing just fine, sweetie." She smiles, and Harry feels his body warming up. Nothing brightens his day like talking with the wisest woman he knows. "Go on in. Shoes off at the door. You know the rules."

"I sure do, grandmom." He listens to her, and waits for his sister. Gemma hugs, and kisses her as well. She holds up the two gifts they brought, and their grandmother takes it with a thank you. When Gemma walks in and removes her heels, she motions to the kitchen.

"Wine. Hurry." Gemma whispers quickly, and nudges him to where the alcohol is. She pours them each a glass, and takes a few quick sips. Harry just watches her, not touching his drink.

"You'd think wine was your livelihood." He mumbles.

"If it is?" She questions, and he shrugs nonchalantly. "Great. I need something to help me deal with the people we'll see tonight."

"It's not going to be all that bad, Gems." He rolls his eyes, and nudges his drink towards her when she finishes hers. "You're exaggerating."

"You just wait, Styles. Just wait."

When Gemma decides that it's finally time to leave the safety of the kitchen, they're bombarded with hugs and greetings. Cousins they've hardly met before ask how they are, family friends they've never heard of tell them that they're sorry for the loss. It's overwhelming to Harry, and he's wishing he'd taken two glasses of wine to the face like Gemma.

"Harry, honey!" He feels someone toss an arm over his shoulder, and he looks to his right. A slim, lean figure stands beside him. They're dressed in a purple suit, loud and rambunctious as glitter shines on the seams, and their hair is gelled back with one curly strand sitting peacefully unbothered on their forehead. They're his height, and they're smile matches his own.

"Hello, Edward." Harry mumbles. Edward was Harry's age, a second cousin of his from his mother's sister. The two would be almost identical if it weren't for Edward's flamboyancy, and comfortability of being the spectacle in the room. He dressed to impress, always, but he also dressed to send a clear message: strictly dickly, non-binary, and fluid. He didn't care for genders, he wouldn't even care for sexuality if it weren't for the family's need to constantly label everyone. He was what Harry wanted to be.

"I see you're wearing all white tonight. Are we losing a virgin, or something?" Edward teases, and Harry spots his black nails. He wore little to no rings, unlike Harry who had the large ones on every finger, except for his marriage finger where a large diamond sat.

"Where's the partner?" Harry asks, and Edward grins cheekily.

"You goof," he leans in a little, "I'd never set my love up like that."

"What's that mean?"

Edward chuckles, and places his free hand on his hip. "I have no problem with these people judging me, I worked too hard on myself to give a damn. My angel, however, is so sweet and gentle. He could never be care free like me. I'm protecting him, see?"

The more Harry listens, the more he realizes how similar Edward's relationship would be to his and Louis'— if they ever started one, that is. Harry crosses his arms. "Why didn't you find a care free soul like yourself?"

Edward shrugs. "When you love someone, you take their flaws in stride. I'm not perfect, or any better than he is, just because I can shamelessly face homophobia, and all its micro forms. Just because he's quiet, and conservative with his sexuality doesn't mean he isn't comfortable with himself. Make sense?"

Edward giggles at Harry's confused face. "Some are flaming fires of pride. Others are not, and that's okay. The goal is to confidently be yourself, and you aren't only your sexuality."

"I see." Harry mumbles. "So, when someone tells you to be confident—?"

"It doesn't mean to be an Edward." His cousin chuckles. "It just means to be a Harry, whatever that is."

—————

Harry falls onto his bed after stripping bare, and he stares at the ceiling once again. He feels himself start to smile, and his body starts to relax. "I think I get it now."

He gets up, and stands in front of the mirror. There, in the most vulnerable way, he stares at his body and himself. He stares at his tattoos, his curly hair, his pale skin, broad shoulders, lanky legs, and finds himself smiling. He sees his acne scars, his love handles, the places where he's possibly too hairy, and doesn't hear Kala's criticisms. He touches his stubble, slowly drags his hands across his body, and bites his lip. For once, in years, he sees the man in the mirror— physically, emotionally, and mentally— for who he is. He isn't ashamed either.

"Yeah," he nods, "I get it."

Hope yall see this development though 🥺 xx