Elise & Harry know that its like father (like_son) wrote in doorslogs,
Re: Gwen & Harry
Harry hadn't wanted to come to the prom, it'd pretty much been his mantra since he'd had any awareness of prom in the first place. Far from being any of the kids too cool for the occasion, Harry saw the event for what it was. Flash and glitz and sentiment to carve out a good memory at the end of high school, where so many bad memories existed for so many people. This idea came from his father, who he'd overhead seething about some New Years' party nearly a decade ago. It had been the first New Years' since his mother had died, but even now Harry didn't equate his father's bitterness with that. Ridiculous people in ridiculous clothes, trying to erase their lives with a massive party. That was New Years, and that was prom as far as Harry could tell. He hadn't wanted to come on Osborn principle.. but he also wanted to come very badly. His friends would be here, even if their relationships were all sufficiently strained at the moment. That didn't mean that things had to stay that way. Maybe prom was the chance to change it. Harry liked the idea of changing things more than he liked the idea of punch and confetti. Although after downing his own bottle of champagne in the limo, he liked the confetti plenty more than he expected. It fucking glittered, after all.
His tuxedo was traditional. Black jacket with an undershirt that was more vintage cream than true white. He'd bothered with a bow tie, and his hair was salon slicked back. It wasn't that Harry had bothered to dress up for the sake of pictures, but rather on principle. He couldn't be seen in anything less. The wing tip shoes echoed of a jazz age, with their distinct white toes and oxford-punched details. His jacket even had tuxedo tails, and it was soon quite obvious that he was the most over dressed.. but that was usual.
He'd had no intention of crossing Gwen.. or at least not until he was good, drunk, and something less of a coward. His arrival to the upstairs hall changed that, as there weren't quite as many people up here as there were down on the floor below. Upon cresting the stairs, he saw her distantly, and he didn't quite want to turn and run.. so approach was the only option. Being alone with her seemed a lot more daunting than the limo ride as a group had been.
Upon walking closer, he could see the serious and focused look in her eyes directed on the floor below. It bordered on sadness, and he hesitated several feet away from her. He couldn't not say something though, "Are you cold? You've been wearing that coat since we rode over.."