Zayn Malik hates Christmas. He hates the lights handing on the sides of building and circled around Christmas trees. He hated the ugly sweaters everyone wore because their grandma made it for them. He hated how everyone gathered around the fire with their friends, sipping from piping hot chocolate, not even caring that it burned their tongues and mouth.
But what Zayn hated most was that everyone always seems to be in such a good mood all the time; all cheerful and happy. To Zayn, there was no reason to be happy around this time of year; it wasn't a special time for him.
So why was Zayn trudging in two feet of snow in the outskirts of New York City? The answer was simple, Harry Styles.
The curly haired boy had moved to New York City with his-at the time-fiancé, Louis Tomlinson. Since then they had gotten married, and, as far as Zayn knew, were living happily together. Zayn hadn't spoken nor heard from the boy for years, until he got a call three weeks ago, asking if he would come to visit for the Christmas.
Zayn had agreed without much thought, not even knowing what New York City was like during the winter time. Now, however, he wished he had at least considered the idea that everyone would be in the Christmas spirit. He had been stopped at least six times by six different people, all wishing him a merry Christmas. He had just grunted and moved along, not even sparing them a smile.
Before long, Harry's house came into view, and Zayn breathed a sigh of relief. He didn't enjoy having to walk through the heavy snow, watching as it covered his tracks immediately. Stepping up onto the small porch-also covered in snow-he knocked on the door, watching as someone peaked out from the curtains next to the door.
"Haz!" He heard from inside, the door swinging open seconds later. A short boy with a feathery fringe stood in the doorway, his blue eyes bright and excited. He was wearing a baggy Christmas sweater with the reindeer on it, Santa waving in his sled. "Zayn, right?"
Zayn nodded his head, opening his mouth to ask if the boy was Louis, but Harry beat him to it. "Louis, don't just leave him standing out in this cold! Let him in!" Harry scolded, giving Louis' bum a playful swat. The boy squealed, stepping out of the way to let Zayn in. Gratefully, Zayn entered the warm house, his cheeks turning rosy, barely showing up due to his skin tone. The raven haired lad shook snow off his jacket and boots before taking them off, setting them where Louis pointed. "Zayn! I'm so glad you could make it!"
Harry threw his arms around the shorter boy, squeezing tightly, stealing the air from Zayn's lungs. He just laughed and hugged back tightly, missing his friend. "It's good to see you again, Harold," Zayn grinned as they pulled away. Louis placed himself at his husband's side, a giant smile on his face. "You must be the Louis Harry always talked about."
Louis' cheeks tinted pink as he nodded his head, scooting closer to Harry. "I guess I am," he spoke, his eyes meeting Zayn's. Harry wrapped his arm around the elder's waist, kissing the top of his head before turning his attention back to his friend.
"We have dinner in the oven, so whenever you get settled in, we can all eat together," Harry beamed, leading the three of them towards the bottom of the stairs. "Oh, by the way, the boys are coming over tomorrow. You don't know them, but we met them here in New York. I think you'll like them."
"I'm already looking forward to it," Zayn said sincerely, heading up the stairs as the two love birds went into the kitchen. Zayn found his room quickly and without trouble-and definitely not at all because his name was printed on a paper stuck to the door-collapsing onto his bed tiredly. The flight had been long, and he had gotten no sleep, but he knew he couldn't-shouldn't-fall asleep now.
