Fifteen Minutes (Zarry AU)

Chapter 16

Something settles in him then and Zayn doesn’t know if it’s that he’s giving up or if the practical side of his brain has finally taken over, but he stands up and puts his phone down for the first time since he got out of the shower. He needs a cup of tea, he thinks with a sudden smile, knowing that’s the first thing his mother would do if she was there – put the kettle on – but then there’s a knock on the door and he’s running.

‘Harry,’ he breathes, his heart hammering.

‘Hello, stranger,’ Dan Delgado says with a smirk when the door slides open.

Zayn’s heart drops to the pit of his stomach. ‘What are you doing here?’

Dan doesn’t wait to be invited in, just slides past him and when Zayn turns to face him, he’s standing under the skylight, looking up at the sun.

‘So this is the Silver Factory.’

‘What are you doing here?’ Zayn asks, hands on his hips, but Dan ignores him as he turns on the spot, his gaze darting from the kitchen to the bed to the leather chair by the window, before settling on the drafting table.

‘Don’t touch anything,’ Zayn tells him, but he ignores him again, and when Dan leans down to peer at a watercolour, Zayn paces over and gathers everything up, his cheeks hot and his hands shaking, as though Dan’s walked in on him while he was naked. ‘These are private.’

‘They’re beautiful,’ Dan says, clearly amused by Zayn’s reaction. ‘Like you.’

He raises his hand to touch Zayn’s cheek, but Zayn pulls away before he can, walking over to the dining table and putting the pile of paper down with a scowl. He still feels his traitorous heart skip beat, though, as if to say, Remember?

Remember?

‘You look good,’ Dan tells him with a smooth smile as Zayn takes the cigarette box out of his pocket and lights one. And he hates the way he says it – You look good not You look well – and waits. Sure enough, Dan adds, ‘You always look good in black.’

‘What do you want, Dan?’ Zayn asks, tossing his lighter on the dining table.

‘I came to get my painting.’

Zayn closes his eyes and rubs the bridge of his nose.

Of course. Of fucking course he was the one who bought his painting.

‘It’s not here.’ Zayn tells him, nodding at the door. ‘It’s at the gallery.’

He’s about to tell him to go, but then he’s next to him, his hand on the small of his back.

‘I miss you,’ Dan whispers, the tip of his nose grazing Zayn’s cheek.

Zayn shudders and turns his face away. ‘Don’t.’

‘I can’t stop thinking about you.’ Dan rests his forehead against Zayn’s, their eyelashes catching as Dan slides into the space between Zayn and the table. Their hips nudge as he does, then Zayn feels the outline of Dan’s belt buckle through his t-shirt as their chests touch and his traitorous heart skips beat again, as if to say, I remember.

I remember.

‘I’m sorry. I’m an asshole,’ Dan breathes and when Zayn feels his breath on his mouth, his eyes flutter shut. ‘It’s you. It’s always been you.’

He kisses Zayn then and the shock of it makes Zayn step back, but Dan’s hand is there, on the small of Zayn’s back, so he rocks forward, their mouths catching again.