The water was cold. He could feel it entering his lungs as he pushed himself as deep as possible in the bathtub. His mouth was snapped shut, eyes unblinking as he stared at the ceiling. There seemed to be a figure moving on it but maybe it was all inside his head. He relaxed his body a little, trying not to choke despite the rising need to. The water was becoming suffocating now. It was also beginning to hurt his eyes. He persisted.
"HAZZA!" There was a loud sound of a door being pushed open, of it colliding against the wall, probably leaving bruises on it. The voice that had loudly called out the name continued to pull the said 'Hazza' out of the bathtub. "What the fuck are you doing?" the voice asked, a concerned frown on the face. It almost made 'Hazza' want to laugh and so he did. He laughed.
"Harry...," the voice called again, softly. Harry smiled. He reached out his wet hand to grab the soft black hair strands of the man in front of him. He pulled him closer to the bathtub, drenching the leather jacket the former was wearing.
"I'm fine. I was just chilling," Harry smiled cheekily, his pink lips pushing up to show his perfect set of teeth. His brunette hair was sticking to his forehead now, it was a bit annoying. His clothes were sticking to his body, the white t-shirt he was wearing gave a clear view of everything underneath. Not that he was conscious of it. Harry knew he had a good body. In fact, he had a good everything. He even had a good friend, sitting right beside him, worried to death.
"You don't chill in a bathtub and ignore 12 of my calls," the man spoke again, an edge to his voice this time but Harry knew it was nothing serious. This had happened before and if all those incidents didn't push his friend away, then this one was surely not going to.
"I'm sorry Zaynie. Now can you please get me a towel? I'm cold."
"You deserve the cold," Zayn spoke, his voice was brutal but his expression remained concerned as he fetched his friend a towel from the bedroom. Over the years they had known each other, Zayn had had the opportunity to visit Harry's house only at these moments. He had grown familiar with where the necessary items were placed and that, most definitely included the first aid kit. Harry seemed to neet it a lot.
When he passed the towel to his friend, he noticed the way the boy was dressed. It was already December but Harry was dressed in nothing but a plain white t-shirt and black jeans, and he was wet. No wonder he was cold, the water in the bathtub was no longer the hot temperature it had been set to earlier. Moreover, Harry looked weak. So utterly weak. His cheeks weren't as chubby anymore, his hazel-green eyes were no longer that of a young inquisitive child but rather they were filled with sarcasm and something close to defeat. He still was handsome, with that perfect hair, glowing skin, and thick pink lips. He was just not the Harry that Zayn loved.
"Why are you staring at me like that Zaynie?" the man under observation asked. He had pushed himself out of the bathtub and was now sitting at its edge while Zayn sat on the cold bathroom floor.
"I am thinking about you, that's why."
"What about me?"
There was a pause. The dreaded pause. Harry knew what was coming his way. Zayn always brought this topic up whenever something like the bathtub incident happened. It wasn't a big deal really. Harry was actually just looking at the figures on the ceiling and he seemed to have lost track of time in his observation.
"Ever since he left, you've become so different Hazza," that damn nickname, Harry hated it. But he always allowed Zayn to get away with it. What he never allowed Zayn to do was talk about him.
"I was always like this Zaynie. Even if you don't think so."
He quickly got up, getting out of his wet clothes. Harry wrapped the towel around his waist before taking off his underpants and walking towards the bedroom. He lived in a small apartment, and his bedroom was linked to the bathroom. There was a modular kitchen right outside and a spacious hall. Even though he had the money to get a bigger space, Harry had too many memories in his 1BHK apartment.
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Obsessed |l.s.|
Fanfiction"What are you afraid of?" His voice was slow, calm, and had that same huskiness that Harry had grown familiar with. However, even that calmness could not change his answer. "You." Warning: This is a boyxboy fanfiction.