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Summary
Harry sighs and bites his lip. How do you explain Louis? Harry is still having trouble believing the beautician is a real person. Looking back at his tiny waist and wide hips, round bum and thick thighs, delicate hands and strong demeanor, Harry can’t pick any description for him other than ethereal. He radiated something like royalty and Harry waits anxiously for him to (hopefully) call.
“He’s—“ Shit, where does he even begin? Better yet, what can he say that will do Louis justice without landing himself a year’s worth of teasing? “Um, well I think he’s a drag queen.” He grimaces. Nailed it.Or the one where Harry attends uni and Louis works at the hair salon down the street.