Picture makes me weak at the knees

You flip through the channels desperately trying to find a show. You give up soon after, losing the little hope you had for cable.

You point the remote towards the tv, switching it off. The only source of light peeks through the bathroom door of your flat. You hear a groan come from the bathroom.

"Fucking shit!"

You're eyes widen at Harry's words. Curiosity and worry replaces feelings of relaxation almost immediately.

You quickly patter to the door, wrapping your cardigan closer to your body.

"Harry? You okay in there?" You knock a few times, before slowly turning the door knob. You look through the crack in the door. What you see makes your heart burst.

Harry sits with his legs crossed on the tile floor. His right hand tries it's best to hold the brush. It shakes from focusing. His left hand is pressed flat against the floor, a paper towel in between.

The black polish slowly drips from the brush onto the ground. "Harry! You're dripping!"

"What?" He looks up at you with confusion.

"The nail polish is dripping all over the floor, Harry. Be careful!" He puts the brush back into the bottle.

"Sorry, I'm just trying to paint my other hand but it's so damn difficult!" He is frustrated. He runs his fingers through his hair. A habit.

"Harry, you just ruined the other hand by touching your hair."

"Bloody hell."

"Here," you sit down on the floor, mirroring Harry. "Let's take this off and try again, shall we?"

He shakes his head yes, grateful for your much needed help. You squirt some remover on the cotton pad and gently taking his right hand, remove any trace of black. Taking his left hand, you remove the blob sitting on his pinky finger. That's as far as he had gotten with that hand.

You apply the nail polish effortlessly. Your tongue sticks out slightly as you concentrate on the task at hand. It is one of your habits, and you don't know why or when you do it. You can feel Harry watching you, with a smile on his face.

"Stop staring, H."

"I'm not staring."

"Then what do you call it when someone looks at you for an uncomfortable amount of time?"

"Gazing."

"Shut up."

"Hey baby," you look up. When he sees he has your full attention, he sticks his tongue out, mocking you. You gasp. Your hands slaps his knee playfully. He is such a child.

"You're a dickhead, but I finished."

"Thank you." He says with a sigh of relief. He examines his nails carefully. "You did a really great job babe." A smirk plays on his lips.

"Thanks," you laugh. He kisses you softly on the cheek before skipping out of the bathroom.

"Don't you dare touch anything Styles! Not at least for ten minutes!"

And here is some more Harry with his nails painted because it's practically my religion;

I also have a confession. I never was really a "Larry" but like overnight I've become like obsessed with the thought of them. Idk if it's because of all these unseens all of a sudden coming out of blue or somethin but I'm in deep now.