blind. 2 | styles (hariana)

XXXVIII. You Breathe New Life Into Everything You Say

         

~ Ariana ~

"Wait, wait, wait, wait, wait," I yelled, reaching for the hairdresser's hand which held the scissors dangerously close to Harry's hair, "Harry, don't you think you should think about this, I mean this is a big deal."

I looked between the two; a tired looking hairdresser who now probabaly regrets staying overtime, and a befuddled Harry who waited expectantly for the scissors to slice through his long hair. Harry was off his rocks, unable to sit still in the leather seat and his permanent goofy smile seemed to radiate excitement rather than any other conscious thought.

Harry met my eyes in the large mirror, and he shook his head in disappointment as if I was the one being irrational between us.

"Ariana, my love, don't worry about a thing." Harry slurred, and it only lead me to worry even more. "I want this, right now, so let the man do his thing."

"Hmm, right now you may want this but in the morning," I trailed off, "I don't want to have to deal with that aftermath."

"It's gonna happen eventually, so why not tonight?"

"You're drunk Harry." I said pointedly, "But if you're absolutely sure, then I won't stop you. I don't think I can stop you. I've heard some people do crazy things when they're drunk out of their minds."

"Ah, I've done worse." Harry giggled.

"I'm sure you have." I sighed, shaking my head at Harry as I inevitably released the hairdresser's hand.

"S'just a haircut babe." He murmured. "I'm still gonna look good afterwards; promise."

Harry was trying his best to sell his spontaneous haircut as one of the best decisions he's made in a while. For that, I had to open my mind to his unexpected choice even if it was made while under the influence.

I had no doubt in my mind that Harry would look amazing with short hair. Harry was just that type of person to suit everything. He is everything, in fact, including incredibly risky and stupid at times, but lovely nonetheless.

"You can look away if you want." Harry suggested.

"You can have a seat in the waiting area." The man said as he began to prepare Harry's hair with a spray bottle. The water coming into contact with Harry's skin and hair lead him to laugh softly and raise his shoulders in an attempt to avoid the wetness. "S'cold!"

"Actually before you go, why don't you choose the haircut I get." Harry spoke up again as he lit up like a child on Christmas. "Don't tell me and it'll be a surprise for the both of us!"

"How would it be a surprise for me if I know what haircut you're getting?" I questioned him as Harry pursed his lips in thought. "Well, it'll be a surprise for you to see my hair that way instead of imagining it in your brain. I'm a generous."

"Genius," I corrected him, "whatever floats your boat."

"What boat?" Harry questioned in confusion.

"The one attached to the anchor on your wrist." I said nonchalantly as Harry proceeded to grip his wrist in astonishment.

He looked at the anchor as if it were the first time he'd ever seen one.

Leaving Harry to his drunken thoughts, I leafed through a few photos of male hairstyles, choosing the one that appealed to me. I wasn't attached to Harry's long hair, but I did feel a sense of separation anxiety at the thought of it not being where I'm used to seeing or feeling it. His hair is one of the prominent aspects of Harry that I'm familiar with. It did a lot for me when I was blind. It's how I knew it was Harry; the feeling of his soft curls which smelt intensely of strawberry on some occasions or vanilla extract on the other was unique to me.