Note To Self (Harry Styles AU)

Chapter Fifty Seven.

His backpack was dropped to the floor, creating a thud throughout the room, and Harry flopped face first into his bedsheets as soon as he got home. The back of his neck felt sweaty from the blazing sun, cool air washing over the damp skin. His thoughts raced in his head, thinking of all the things he should've said but didn't, and he had to fight the urge to add fuel to the fire by sending Sophie a text message filled with anger. The sound of his bedroom door popping open behind him was ignored, but Gemma's voice was hard to go unnoticed.

"What bills are you paying to be slamming doors?"

The eyeroll he gave went unseen by his sister, and when she came to stand beside him, her knee nudged his leg in attempt for his attention. "Go away."

"I did come in here to piss you off," she admitted. "Nice to see I've gotten a head start."

His words were mumbled into the sheets, partly sounding as a warning, but also a plead. "Don't start with me."

"Why are you being so bitchy?"

Her hands on his back began to shake and bounce him into the sponginess of the mattress, and the warning she chose to ignore was acted upon when he annoyedly shoved her away to sit up and glare at her. "Don't you have anything better to do?"

"No," she disagreed, "I've been bored all day."

That wasn't a good enough reason in Harry's mind. "Well, leave me alone."

Gemma grinned, seeming satisfied with her success. "What happened? Did your little girlie friend do something bad?"

The way she poked at his tickle spot irritated him enough to growl and slap her hand, the smack of skin against skin loud enough for him to realize it was a bit harder than he intended it to be. "She's not my girlfriend, and no she didn't."

"Wow." She shook off the pain in her hand easily. "You're a slut."

"No, I'm not."

Pulling at a loose lock of hair, she continued to tease. "What would mom and dad have to say about that?"

Once again, her hand was slapped away and Harry rushed to stand to his feet. "Can you leave me alone?"

He stepped around her while Gemma perched herself in the newly empty spot on his bed. "Better to be mad at me than whatever else it is that's bothering you."

As he approached his closet, nimble fingers began to pop the buttons down the front of his shirt. He left the cloth draped over his shoulders when the doors were pulled open to reveal the selection of clothes inside. "Or you could act like an adult and not purposely piss me off for no reason."

The shirt fell to the floor and he reached in the closet to pull an old Fleetwood Mac shirt off a hanger. His head disappeared into the fabric as he pulled it on, while he heard Gemma speak from the bed. "You're getting chubby."

The shirt was pulled down to cover his middle, and he tried his hardest to keep his tone level when he spoke. "I can't wait for you to go back to school."

"That's mean," she frowned, watching as he stooped down to find a pair of pants to wear.

The first pair on top were ripped out of the drawer of his bureau, and he stood to his full height. "Get out."

"No."

His jaw clenched at her stubbornness. "I'm not wearing underwear, so unless you want to see my fat ass, get out."

Gemma's face scrunched up, "Gross, who doesn't wear underwear?"

"I need to do laundry. Get out."