harry whined loudly, pulling his finger out of his mouth due to the throbbing pain in his mouth. the boy's dentist told him not to mess with the rubber bands, but harry couldn't help it- he was always messing with the metal in his mouth somehow, tapping at them or tonguing them despite the pain that went through his mouth when he did so. he was just that way, despite the sweater paws that hung from his arms and the plastic cat ears he always had tucked in his curls- he was the epitome of stubborn and spoiled.
— and maybe that's why he threw such a big fit the morning of his first day of high school when the lilac sweater, that he had washed and picked out literal days before, had a big fat stain of who knows what on the chest.
Harry did not like mess, he liked to feel clean and /pretty/ and he did /not/ like stains or splotches even when he had nosebleeds and it would ruin his pretty sweaters and cardigans.
but in the end, he ended up being late to school- with a light /pink/ sweater and white jeans. he smelt like strawberries and vanilla and he felt good and /clean/ because his white converse looked completely brand new and he just felt so pretty.
he was the dorky- organized boy. he always had been, but he liked it that way. he liked having the matching folders and binders, the pink pencil cases with cute little stickers all over them. even though it took him longer to get ready for every class, and he always had bobby pins and paper clips strewn in his floral printed bag.
that was just who he was, and he knew it. he wasn't going to stop- it made him feel happy and safe.
