Smol Fry | Hercules X Lafayette

1 year later

Thomas' POV

"Can we throw this one out, James?"

"Oh, uhm, that one is quite comfy-"

"It's fine, we can keep it... What about this?"

"I'd feel bad... it was from my grandma..."

"Alright. Oh God, please, can we throw this one away?"

"But Thomas, you bought it for me."

"Exactly. I can't remember a time where I had bad fashion taste, but this thing says otherwise."

"Please don't throw it out."

Fuck, 'course he was giving me the puppy eyes.

"Fine. We'll keep the ugly-ass sweater, that you never wear," I grinned, tossing it into the 'keep' pile, which was taking over a large portion of the floor. How was tossing clothes out this difficult? Some things just ain't gonna come back into fashion, and that sweater was one of them.

"We can throw this out," James nudged me, with another sweater that he'd scrunched up into a ball. Before he could throw it into the 'burn' pile, I snatched it from him; He tried frantically to grab it back, almost falling off of the bed.

"Why, cause it reminds you of your k-pop phase?" I held it up - the sweater I'd bought him for Christmas the other year; sure, it was an abomination which brought me physical pain to buy, but two could play at the sentimentality game.

"Don't talk about that, Thomas, please," he mumbled, into a pillow that he'd hidden his face in.

"But darlin we can't throw it out, I bought it for you."

His response was a little, unintelligible noise from the comfort of the cushion. I flopped down next to him, giving his shoulder a nudge. He turned his head to face me, with the puppy eyes, again.

"God, it's just so hard to say no to you, baby." With a chuckle, I flung the hideous sweater into the burn pile.

"Thomas."

"Oh? Do I embarrass you, James?" I asked, a smirk tugging at my lips.

"I embarrass myself, and you don't help," he replied with a little smile.

Giving him a peck on the cheek, I decided it'd be best if I decided which clothes went against every rule in the fashion code. By the time I'd gotten down to the last few t-shirts, the burn pile was roughly the size of a mini Mt. Everest. It was a relief to say goodbye to some of those outfits, some so horrendous, I don't reckon a charity shop'd take them; I could give them to Hamilton - he has a laughable fashion sense at best...

"Hey, Thomas?" James was no longer curled up in the fetal position, and was holding a few things I must've missed, "I don't really need these anymore, should we give them away?"

"Oh... It's your call, sweetheart; you don't need them."

I love the way his eyes light up when he remembers, even if the rest of his face stays unmoved, his eyes look a little bit brighter.

"I don't want anything for them, but someone might need them somewhere."

I patted the bed, gesturing for James to come and sit next to me, and brought him into a tight hug; he lent his head against my shoulder. Swear to God, my heart still explodes every time he does that, and we've been dating for 9 months.

"I'll ask around, don't get yourself all worried," I mumbled.

"But won't people start talking? Why would you  own binders?"