Pretty in Plastic (l.s)

xxvi

Two days until New Years Eve. It's been almost a week since Louis's turned back. Harry doesn't know what it'll take to make it happen, if it ever will, but he knows he can't allow the doll to see him fall back into the drain after everything he tried to do for Harry. So, Harry's been ignoring Kala in favor of reworking his life. He works more hours, spends time studying fashion so he knows what's trending and what's not, and has even gotten his redone. He doesn't plan on taking the polish off, either.

This time, his nails are yellow with simplistic smiley faces on them. It made Harry happy when he looked down at them because they were different, but not far out. Pretty as Louis would say.

Kala's called him multiple times since she last saw him, and he hasn't answered. She leaves angry voicemails, telling him to pick up or it's over only to leave another saying she misses him and begging him to talk to her. Honestly, he wasn't doing it to upset her. He wasn't doing it because she did something wrong, but because he knows he needs time to himself. He needs to figure himself out, and Harry thinks he has for the most part, but he has much more to figure out like his relationship with Kala.

Ever since Harry told Kala of Harry's value, Kala hasn't stopped mentioning it. That's something else that bothered Harry: every voicemail, in someway shape or form, has ended with Kala trying to coax Harry to pawn the doll for at least a day. She tells him that she's struggling with rent, and— because she doesn't ask for much— she deserves the little bit of money he can give her through the pawning. He refuses to entertain the idea because Louis would never want that, Harry sees the doll as more than monetary value, and Kala has her own things she can sell.

So, when Harry walks in from a morning shift, goes to his bedroom and doesn't see Louis, he immediately begins to panic. He searches everywhere: the closet, the kitchen, the backyard, the bathroom, and the living area. He checks the couch cushions, bedsheets, and drawers. Nothing.

"Louis!?" He calls out, hoping the doll came back and was hiding. "Lou, this isn't funny! Come on out, butterfly!"

No answer, no noises. Harry takes his phone out, and paces the room. His finger hovers over Gemma's contact, and he stops himself. She would laugh in his face, and nobody would understand how much the doll keeps Harry grounded. He needs Louis.

"Fuck, fuck, fuck." Harry whispers, and jumps when the front door opens. He sees Kala walk in, snow on her coat from the weather outside. He rushes to her, and he eyes widen in shock as if she was caught red handed. "Have you been over here recently?"

She doesn't answer, just reaches into her large purse, and pulls out a plastic figure. It's small, dressed, and smiling. Harry gasps, and takes it. "Where did you find it!?"

"I needed money for rent." She mumbles, and Harry faces her. She looks ashamed, almost guilty, as she hangs her head down. "I took him to the pawn shop."

"What?" Harry completely forgets his relief, and feels himself becoming enraged. "You did what!?"

"Harry," Kala says cautiously, "I don't ask you for a lot. I needed some help, baby."

"So you take the only keepsake I have from my mother, and decide to sell it!?"

"For a few hours." She interjects, and he sees nothing but red.

"Don't try to justify yourself! You took my stuff, sold it for however long, and didn't ask me or tell me until now! You've crossed the line, Kala!"

"Would rather me homeless? I'm struggling!"

"So sell your things!"

Her eyes widen. "Absolutely not!"