Drawn Out Dreams. [A Zarry Fanfiction.]

Chapter Five

A slight frown worked its way onto Zayn Malik’s face as Harry led him over to the old art closet in the quietest, least thought of area of the sixth form. Did Harry need art supplies? Maybe Harry was thinking about taking up art…either way, Zayn stood quietly, watching the taller boy’s movements. Harry let go of Zayn’s hand and opened the room door, but paused when he saw how Zayn was observing him in confusion.

“I, er, wanted us to have some privacy. I can never hear people talking when I’m in the cafeteria. Plus, you don’t like talking around other people, do you?” Harry started, and Zayn smiled widely. No one had ever wanted to hear him talk. Harry was so nice and caring, and made Zayn smile inside and out.

“No one understands me when I talk.” Zayn spoke quietly, before Harry led him into the art closet and shut the door behind them. It was long and narrow, with messy shelves covering the walls, art supplies and tools, even old sketchbooks scattered across them. The shelves were messily arranged, and looked as if it had barely been moved in years. The ceiling was low, and only just high enough for Harry to fit inside. There was a tiny window at the end of the room, which was the only source of light into the room. It wasn’t amazingly lit, even though the warm rays of the sun were shining inside, but Zayn could see Harry’s face, so that was the main thing he cared about.  

Harry’s green eyes looked at him for a moment, before a small smile made its way onto his face, and he took Zayn’s hand once again and led him down to the window. Outside, you could see over the school fields, the younger year sport clubs taking place as young boys ran around the field track. Outside they were shouting and making noise, but in the art closet it was quiet and peaceful. Both boys had to climb over old easels and canvases, but Zayn smiled when he saw there was an old couple of couch pillows on the floor next to the window.

“I come in here sometimes to clear my head. The teachers never use it. I think the stoners use it more than the art faculty.” Harry spoke, as he pulled off his bag and dropped it by his feet. It dropped onto the floor and made the dust around it shoot up into the air, it showed up in the light from the window and Zayn’s fascinated brown eyes watched as the dust slowly settled down onto something else, until the next time it would be disturbed. The bright sunshine made the dust in the small room almost sparkle, and Zayn took it all into his mind, ready for a possible drawing. The names and colours on the labels of the brightly coloured paint bottles on all of the shelves all went down into his memory.

A warm hand then tugged at his own. Zayn turned around and realised that Harry was already sat down on one half of the couch pillow, looking up at him with a small smile.

“You can sit down, you know.” He chuckled a little, tugging Zayn’s hand once more. Zayn smiled, bringing himself from his own world. He pulled his bags from his shoulders and placed his bag down gently, arranging it so that it was stood against the wall upright. He caused another small cloud of dust, and simply giggled to himself as he watched it rise up into the rays of the sun before falling back down into the darkness of the room.  

He finally sat down slowly on the old couch pillows. If he were on his own, he would have found them uncomfortable. The corduroy material that went around them was old, and he saw how if it wasn’t broken it was fraying, causing the pillow underneath to poke out. Years of dust and no attention meant that Zayn couldn’t tell what colour it was. It wasn’t like any of the colours in his pencil collection.  

Another dust cloud swirled into the air, but this time Zayn didn’t look, he was too busy watching as Harry ruffled up his hair. His golden brown curls slipped through his fingers once more, his eyes concentrated in front of him as he ruffled up his hair, before he turned to Zayn with a small smile. Zayn smiled back, before realising that some dust from the room had landed on his glasses, and he pulled them off carefully. He lowered them down to his school jumper and cleaned them, before placing them back onto his face with a triumphant smile now that his vision was no longer blurred.