SOLITUDE

Chapter Nineteen

The sound of three swift knocks on the front door echoed through the empty flat, making Harry jump from his sleepy position on one of the sofas, his eyes being fixed on the television screen for the past hour.

Right, Zayn, he thought. Pushing himself off the cushions and stepping over various clothing items (over the past days, he had learnt that Louis likes having shirts throws all over the floor. Apparently easier to find, he says) until he finally reached the door, hand freezing on the door knob.

"Zayn?" He called over, just to make sure. He was met with a response of a quiet hum that sounded most definitely like the black haired boy, so he unlocked the door, pulling it open, letting his eyes fix on Zayn's frown.

The boy was stepping from one foot to another, hood of his grey (now dark grey, almost black because of the rain) coat pulled over his head, his hair brushed down so that his dark fringe fell into his eyes. Zayn shook the umbrella in his hand, a few droplets of cold water landing on Harry. "Hi, it's raining,"

Harry chuckled a little, eyeing Zayn's wet clothing as he moved out of the way to let the older boy into the flat. He took Zayn's wet coat to hang up on the clothes rack and was greeted with a thankful look from the other. "I noticed. Uh, want tea, or coffee or something?"

"Tea would be nice," Zayn sighed blissfully, following the curly boy into the warm kitchen (hopping on one foot because he just couldn't get the other damn shoe off so once he did he breathed in a sigh a relief. Imagine being stuck in one coverse shoe for the rest of your life, he had said to Harry, and the younger boy giggled, looking up from the kettle for a second to see what Zayn was on about.), and sitting down at the kitchen table. "So, what are we talking about today?"

Harry carried the two mugs of Yorkshire tea (that's the only one Louis ever buys. Harry wonders why, sometimes) towards the table, his hands quite shaky for unknown reasons, placing them on the wooden surface with a small clink of the cheap porcelain against the hard surface. He sat down opposite Zayn, blowing at the hot liquid in his own mug. "I wanted to thank you,"

Zayn laughed a little, the sound muffled as he sipped on the warm drink that burnt his tongue in a nice way, to be honest. "You already did, idiot,"

"No, I'm serious," Harry stated, putting his mug down and intertwining his fingers in front of him. He looked up, noticing Zayn's confused brown eyes. He coughed softly. "If you weren't there he would have killed Louis."

"Harry, you can't think about it like that..." Zayn's words were interrupted when he trailed away and Harry sighed.

"If you didn't get Louis away from that place, like I said - he would literally be killed-"

"If I didn't get Louis away from that place, maybe you wouldn't be injured now!" Zayn pointed out, slamming his fist down onto the table, making the younger boy flinch a little.

"We would both be dead," Harry whispered, eyes trailing down to stare at the wooden table.

They sat in silence, breathing steady and quiet for long minutes that felt like hours, even days, until Zayn slowly stood up, pushing the chair back.

"I'll better go," He said quietly. "Look, Harry, I don't want to argue with you. I'm glad I could help and all,"

Harry glanced up, nodding, as he stood up from the table in silence. "Thank you, Zayn,"

Zayn let his lips curl into a genuine smile, and he wrapped the younger boy in his arms, pulling him close. He pressed his face into his neck, brushing his nose against Harry's jaw.

"No, thank you. I was a bad person, I-" Zayn sighed into the tense boy's neck, awaiting Harry to relax. Once he did, he pulled away a little. Their eyes met.