bitter || zarry stylik

fourteen

"So, Harry. Do you mind if I make a prediction?" Zayn asks, glancing around the lift and crossing his hands over his chest.

"About my flat? Sure," Harry answers, smiling shyly and looking down at Zayn's smooth hands.

"Yes."

"Go ahead, I suppose. It's pretty average-"

"My guess is that you've got Purell everywhere - reasonably so - and you've got some sort of flora, maybe some succulents. I bet you're very neat."

Harry smiles. "For the most part, your accuracy is rather impressive. I have lots of air plants, but unfortunately, no succulents. Well, this is my floor. You ready?"

Zayn smiles widely, and nods, following Harry down the hall to the fourth door on the left. Harry slides his key in the lock, and opens and closes the door twice each, before opening it to reveal a predictably tidy apartment. Zayn smiles at the large potted plants besides the coat rack, and the built-in Purell dispenser next to the door. "This is lovely, Harry. May I see your bedroom?"

Harry blushes for some reason, and leads Zayn into the organised bedroom, with the minimalist decor and white duvets. Zayn glances around for a moment to be polite, but relaxes once his eyes settle on Harry. Harry is looking up at the stick-on glowy stars on the ceiling, and he looks beautiful, Zayn thinks.

His skin seems to be glowing from within, and his eyelashes seem extra long today. Not that Harry isn't beautiful every day, because he is, but Zayn just thinks that maybe something has caused him to be so luminous looking.

Suddenly, Harry's expression changes, and he frowns. "Zayn, something's wrong."

Zayn is by Harry's side in a second, and he leads him gently to the bed where Harry sits down heavily. "Harry, love, what is it? What's wrong?"

"I- I can't. You're going to hate me."

Zayn frowns. "Harry, I could never hate you. Now what's wrong, lovely?"

"I don't know how to say it. I'm afraid you'll think I'm clingy. And I don't really think I can say what's wrong right now. I mean, I can, but I'm not entirely sure if it would come out right."

"That's okay. What is it? Take your time."

"I'm just thinking about the bacteria in the air and how much dirt there is on me and how much I should just swim in Purell to get clean. You know?" Zayn nods, and Harry continues. "I think I need to shower. But you're here, and I just showered this morning, and I don't want to shower twice in one day, and I don't want to shower but I should and-"

"It's okay. Let's take a few minutes, and if you're still feeling this way, we can figure out what to do, yeah? What can I do to make you feel better, Harry?" Zayn smiles kindly, concern twinkling in his eyes.

"Hold me. Please. I know it sounds weird, but I feel better when someone is close to me. Please?" Harry looks so sad, and his green eyes are wide, pleading even.

Zayn cocks his head to the side, and holds his arms out for Harry. Harry practically dives across the bed into Zayn's open arms, causing Zayn to laugh a little, and gently lay Harry and himself down onto the duvet. Harry rolls over so his back is pressed against Zayn's chest, and Zayn coos a little. "It's alright. I've got you now. You're okay."

"Thank you, Zayn. You're already making me feel better." If Zayn was facing Harry, he would see that Harry's cheeks are pink because of how close Zayn is. He can feel the steady beat of Zayn's heart against his back, and the slight stubble on his face brush against the back of Harry's neck. He's already feeling much better, just knowing that he's safe in a loved one's arms. Zayn's arms. Harry is in Zayn's arms, and it feels like it's meant to be.