bitter || zarry stylik

six

"Harry, what do you want for dinner? I could make-"

"I'll just order takeaway. Thanks though." Harry doesn't even have to look up from his laptop to know that Carol's frowning and quite possibly making faces at him from the doorway. Whatever. She can go fuck herself, for all I care, Harry thinks bitterly.

That probably sounds rude or whatever, but you'd think my mum would have at least hired someone who cared whether or not I'm breathing. Harry curses himself for sounding so rude, but shrugs.

On second thought, maybe Harry won't order takeaway. "I'm going to Liam's. Don't wait up."

Carol frowns, and practically shoos him into the coat closet with a dissatisfied grunt. Harry rolls his eyes and wraps a scarf around his neck before grabbing his coat and wallet, and walking down the hallway to the lift.

In the taxi, Harry texts Liam to let him know he is on his way over. Liam texts back a smiley face, and Harry chuckles. When he finally gets to Liam's building, Harry counts the twenty-four steps up the stairs to his floor, and fourteen steps to his door. Nice even numbers.

Harry sanitises his hands quickly before pulling his sleeve over his hand and knocking twice on the door. "Liam, it's me. Open up."

Liam opens the door slowly, and immediately the smell of spliff hits Harry. He grins, and invites him in. "Hey, mate! How's it goin'?"

Harry chuckles, and follows him through the hase of smoke to his kitchen. "I'm alright. I saw a new therapist today."

Liam smiles, and pulls two beers out of the fridge. "That's great, Harry! What are they like?"

"His name is Zayn, he's really fit, and he's really nice. Much better than Dr. Parrish."

Liam nods, and chugs his beer loudly. "Ah. That hits the spot. I'm glad you're finally seeing someone good."

Harry smiles, and takes a long sip of his beer. "How's Sunny?"

Liam grins toothily and pats Harry's shoulder. "Oh, she's great, if you know what I mean." He thrusts his hips forward, and smirks.

Harry cringes, and shakes his head a little. "Alright, Liam. Maybe you've had enough of that beer." He snatches the can from Liam's hand with a chuckle, and tosses it in the sink.

Liam shrugs, and tugs Harry into the living room where an impressively tall hookah and stash jar sit on the coffee table. "You want a hit?"

Harry doesn't want to. "Um, I can't. My meds."

Liam frowns, and quirks an eyebrow up. "That's never stopped you before, mate. But if you don't want to, that's fine."

Harry shrugs, and takes another long sip of his beer. "Yeah, I probably shouldn't."

Harry was lying when he said he shouldn't smoke because of his meds. The reason he doesn't want to is because he's afraid Zayn will disapprove.