awkward ➳ zarry

part thirteen: you have me

The morning light beamed through Zayn's shutters, waking Harry up immediately. He could feel a headache coming on as he got out of bed, and walked towards Zayn's bathroom where he splashed cold water on his face and rinsed his mouth out with Zayn's mouthwash before poking his head outside of the door to see if he was there.

"Zayn?" Harry whispered, looking over at the couch to see Zayn reading the newspaper with a cup of coffee in his hand.

"Good morning," he said with a smile.

"Hi," Harry blushed, feeling the warmth of his heart, and not so surprisingly pants.

"Sober?" Zayn asked softly, closing the newspaper and putting it down on his coffee table. 

"Definitely," Harry nodded, walking towards Zayn, sitting down next to him on the couch. 

Harry looked at Zayn for a minute before smiling weakly. "What did I do last night?"

Zayn laughed, and placed his hand on Harry's knee. "You already asked me that question. You didn't do anything too crazy.. You tried to.. Uh.." Zayn motioned down to the zipper on his pants, embarrassment coursing through Harry's veins.

His cheeks flushed a bright red as he buried his head in his hands. "Holy fuck. I'm so sorry,"

Zayn continued laughing, then squeezed Harry's knee. "It's quite alright," he said with a grin. "You were absolutely shit-faced,"

Harry slowly uncovered his hands and nodded. "I was,"

"You actually told me some things.. Last night.." Zayn said quietly, watching Harry's eyes. 

"Oh fuck," Harry sighed. "What did I say?"

"Uh," Zayn brought his fingers up to his lips, toying with his bottom lip nervously. Something Harry thought was ever so sexy.

"What'd I say Zayn?" Harry asked after a moment of staring into Zayn's honey coloured eyes.

Zayn's fingers were still on his lips, so Harry took it upon himself to reach over and pull his hand down gently, his fingers brushing Zayn's lips.

"You said you loved me," Zayn blurted. "You said that,"

Harry's eyes widened, and unexpectedly his lips formed into a smile.

"What?" Zayn questioned, nervous.

"Drunk Harry has got some nerve," he said, quite delighted. "Drunk Harry also does not lie,"

The sentences were so twisted together and casual that Zayn almost didn't understand.

"So you meant it?" Zayn asked Harry.

Harry looked around, and then scooted closer to Zayn. He brought his head closer to Zayn's and could hear his heartbeat through his ears. 

"You think drunk Harry would lie?" Harry whispered, resting his forehead against Zayn's.

Instead of answering, Zayn pulled Harry's lips into his in a hurry.

Harry's stomach exploded, his mind running everywhere. His body was only processing Zayn's soft lips and nothing else. Harry was floating and all he could feel was Zayn's kiss and Zayn's hands finding their way to Harry's lower back.

Gently, Harry laid down, Zayn following on top of him feeling the warmth Harry's body had to offer, the warmth radiating off of him and floating onto Zayn.

Harry could feel Zayn's hands on his cheeks, on his neck, on his chest. This is all Harry had ever wanted.

Kissing someone you love is the finest feeling in the world.