𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐅𝐀𝐋𝐋! | harry styles

𝐗𝐈

"The kid needs a haircut," he says, gesturing to Cody, who's chasing the seagulls just ahead of us. The drive has left his hair windblown and a complete mess. It curls over his ears and at the nape of his neck, and he keeps having to brush it from his eyes, only to have it fall right back again.

"I usually do it myself, but I've been so busy." Cody laughs as a group of gulls flap and caw, taking flight around him. The wind picks up, and I huddle down into my jacket and pull my hood up over my head. "He hates hairdressers. He gets so freaked out, starts screaming like he's being tortured…"

"Well… I might know a guy," muses Harry, rubbing a hand across his jaw.

"Yeah, I don't know…"

He's so close that I feel his arm shift against mine as he digs his hands into the pockets of his jeans. "You trust me, right?"

Turning, I peer at him from beneath my hood, brushing away the hair that whips against my face. His expression is unreadable, his eyes that are normally so expressive still hidden behind tinted sunglasses.

"I trust you."

He smiles, the sides of his mouth twitching, and I can tell he's suppressing a real smile, the kind that if pushed just that little bit further would bloom into something explosive.

"Then I know a guy."

If it's at all possible, the barber has more ink than Harry does. There isn't a strip of clean skin between his knuckles and his jaw line; it's all a huge mish-mash of color and shading that covers every inch of visible skin. He grins and looks at Harry and me, then down to Cody and back up.

He looks equal parts confused and surprised, and one hundred percent not at all sure how Cody and I fit into this picture.

"This where you're bringin' your dates these days?" he jokes, reaching out to shake Harry's hand. I have to hide a smile as Harry shoots the guy a cut it out glare. When I look back up there's a slight pink tinge to Harry's cheeks, and he shakes his head, looking a little uncomfortable.

"Kid needs a haircut," he says, gesturing to Cody, who's staring up at the ink-covered guy with wide eyes.

The barber looks down at Cody and nods. "That he does."

The barber reaches his hand out for mine. His grip is firm and his eyes are shiny, and I don't miss the way they pass over me as he shakes my hand. "You came to the right place. I'm Seth."

"Scarlet."

Seth bends down, bringing himself eye level with Cody. "What's your name, little dude?"

I feel Cody's hand grip my leg as he steps behind me, using my hip to shield his face.

"This is Cody," I answer, resting a hand on his blond head.

"Cody likes The Avengers," says Harry, and Seth's eyes light up.

"Oh yeah?"

Maybe it's the Superman-themed cutting cape, or the Captain America tattoo on his arm, but not only does Seth manage to get Cody into the chair without a single tear shed, but as he cuts and clips he manages to get him to sit still when needed, and even laugh.

"He's good," I say, slightly amazed as I watch Seth work, occasionally stopping to talk superheroes with my son.

"He's the only person I let touch my hair," says Harry.

I look up at his hair. It's not often that I see it since usually it's hidden beneath a cap or his hood. It's artfully messy, I guess—short on the sides and longer on top, long enough to fall over his forehead a little.