I'm Not Gay

10

Harry didn’t know how long he waited.

He tried not to look at his phone—he didn’t want to keep checking it like an obsessed person. Finally, he heard some noises that weren’t Greg’s insults.

“Get dressed and get out,” Zayn’s voice said.

Harry ’s shoulders sagged in relief. He’d come.

“Who do you think you are?” Greg gritted out, still sounding pissed off.

Harry felt a twinge of concern. Due to having so many brothers, Zayn was a lot better at fighting than he was, but Greg’s fists could still do some substantial damage.

Harry contemplated leaving the bathroom and helping Zayn out, but before he could do anything, Zayn bit off, “Get out.”

There must have been something convincing on his face, because Greg actually seemed to give up, grumbling something under his breath. Before long, Harry heard the door slam shut.

“Harry?”

Harry stood, unlocked the door, and gave Zayn his best sheepish look. “Thanks, man. You’re a lifesaver!”

A muscle twitched in Zayn’s jaw, his hazel eyes dark as he pinned Harry with a withering look. It kind of made Harry nervous. It was very, very hard to truly piss Zayn off, but it wasn’t pretty when it happened.

“What did you think you were doing?” Zayn bit out, grabbing Harry’s shoulders and shaking him. “Meeting a total stranger—a drunk stranger—in some dingy place, where no one would give a shit if he raped you or fucking murdered you?”

“How was I supposed to know he would turn up drunk?” Harry said, not appreciating Zayn’s tone.

Zayn glowered. “You could have told him to leave when you saw that he wasn’t sober—you know, before he got naked and horny. Are you that desperate for cock?”

Harry felt his ears burn. “You’re starting to piss me off, man.”

“Me?” Zayn said, his fingers digging into his shoulders, hard. “It’s fucking two in the morning, I have class in a few hours, but I have to rescue your ass from some drunk git because you’re thirsty for cock but too much of a chicken to act like an adult about it.”

“Fuck you,” Harry bit off, trying to free himself from Zayn’s grip. “You shouldn’t have come if it was such a bother.” Hating how thick his voice got and hoping to distract Zayn, Harry went on the offensive. “Why are you so angry? You’ve saved me from far more ridiculous situations. I thought you’d mock me, not chew me out. What the hell? Why are you so pissed off?”

Zayn’s jaw tightened. “I’m pissed off,” he said, very evenly, “because you’re too bloody careless. You could have gotten hurt, Harry. Even if that bloke weren’t drunk, you could have gotten hurt. You sound pretty damn offensive when you start spouting shit about not being gay, as if being gay is something terrible. I don’t take offense because I know you don’t mean it that way, but random strangers wouldn’t know that. I’m angry because I was worried, you twat.”

Harry frowned, his anger draining out of him. 

“I’m sorry,” he mumbled, dropping his gaze. He hadn’t realized that what he said sounded offensive. He was used to being able to say anything to Zayn without offending him; he hadn’t realized that other people might take his words the wrong way.

Zayn sighed, tugging him into a loose hug. “Just don’t do it again,” he said.

Harry put his arms around Zayn’s waist, hugging him back. The hug felt a little strange but so damn good, just what he needed after the weeks of uncertainty and self-doubt. Zayn’s familiar scent was weirdly calming, and Harry found himself tightening his arms around him, closing his eyes and relaxing. It felt as though he was breathing freely for the first time in weeks. Zayn was still his best mate. Everything was right with the world.