#almizil

It took weeks of “Harry!” “Yeah?” “No, not you, the other Harry” before the three of them sat down and had the conversation about names. Harry Styles, popstar darling of the masses, had the pretty decent argument that he’d had the name longer, and it would be more difficult for him to learn to respond to anything else after being called Harry for 20-odd years. Formerly-a-plastic-doll Harry had gone very quiet during Real Harry and Louis’ debate, finally cutting in with a small, “He’s right, Lou. It’s his name, not mine.” Something in the downturn of his lips and the tremors in his voice had softened Real Harry immediately. Louis felt it, too- that displacement Doll Harry always felt when he remembered what he was, the way he looked like a ship tossed about at sea. It still surprised Louis a bit when Real Harry took Doll Harry’s chin gently between his thumb and forefinger, drew his face up until they were eye to eye. "I was just being a stupid twat, alright?" he said, voice firm but kind. "You have just as much a right to the name as me. It’s yours as much as its mine." Doll Harry had gone a bit teary eyed and weepy at that, face crumpling before he pressed against Real Harry’s neck and sobbed shakily for a while. Louis was bewildered, raising his eyebrows at Real Harry, but Harry’d just pursed his lips and patted Doll Harry’s back, looking a little wet around the edges himself. After what Louis felt was a really unnecessary amount of crying between the two of them, they’d gotten to a compromise. "My mum always called me H growing up. We could call you that, if you like," Real Harry offered, voice still thick. Louis would’ve rolled his eyes if he weren’t afraid it might trigger the waterworks he’d been staunchly withholding for the last fifteen or so minutes. So that’s how Real Harry and Doll Harry became Harry and H, respectively.