The Larry Book [ completed ]

Flower Petals and Inked Up Skin

By : Larry_Klaine_Stylinson ( ao3 )

Summary:

Harry is an innocent, bright eyed boy with flowers in his hair, and Louis is a tattooed punk covered in piercings who has built walls around himself for protection, and definitely should not be as interested in the curly haired boy as he is.

Work Text:

When Harry was younger, he used to like to make daisy chains. He'd give one to his mum and one to Gemma, and they'd wear them as necklaces. He always made one for himself as well, but he wore his as a little crown upon his head, and he told them he was the daisy king. They'd laugh, and he'd smile, and that was really his favorite thing to do in the Spring when he was younger.

As he got older, making daisy chains became something that wasn't exactly 'cool', and so he'd stopped when he was about ten. Everyone had told him he looked silly, and he didn't want to look silly.

He was sixteen now, though, and he still had a fascination with daisy chains, and flower crowns of all sorts really. When he was alone, he'd pick as many colorful flowers as he could and take them home and wear them around the house, and his mother would smile at him, probably remembering his childhood.

He ended up deciding one day that he didn't care what anyone thought, and he began wearing his flower crowns to school. His mum tutted at him when he would come home and the flowers were all wilted and the petals dropped all over the sofa and her freshly swept floors, and he'd sigh and pick them up.

She'd bought him fake flowers after that, to wear around the house. He didn't like them as much, though, which was why he still wore the real flowers to school. The fake ones weren't light and floaty like real flowers were. The petals weren't silky and soft, and they didn't smell like sweetness and the earth.

That was one of the things he really liked about wearing the flowers atop his head. He felt connected to the earth. Connected to every being. He supposed that if he didn't have to go to school he would probably never wear shoes, and that would have sort of the same effect. But as it was, he was forced to wear shoes, and so his crown of flowers was his connection to the earth.

He never explained this to anyone, sort of afraid that someone might tell him to keep his hippie crap to himself. He didn't really consider himself a hippie personally, but he could see why someone could mistake him for one. He supposed maybe he dressed a bit like a hippie sometimes, even discounting his flower crowns. He liked to wear billowy white shirts and light blue jeans. He quite fancied that style, and he'd gotten to a point in his life where he was going to dress how he wanted.

A few months ago his wardrobe had consisted mainly of obnoxiously colored shirts with weird logos on them that he didn't understand. But one day he'd just sort of thrown all of those out and started wearing what he wanted, and no one had commented on it yet, so he figured no one really had a problem with it.

Harry was quite content with himself now, embracing the person that he'd always wanted to be, and letting himself, at the risk of sounding like a very cliche metaphor in this situation, bloom.

He was happier these days, dressing in his flowing white shirts with rings of flowers on top of his head and a genuine grin on his face. His mum seemed to be proud of him for letting himself be who he really was, and he was glad to see her smiling at him so brightly all the time. His mum really was like his best friend.