Once in a Lifetime ➳ Larry

chapter eleven

"Rose! Open the bloody door, now!"

Harry perks up in surprise. No, that's not Louis. It's Zayn.

He scrambles off of the couch and walks over to his foyer. He rubs his eyes tiredly. He doesn't know what day it is, let alone the time. He figures it's nighttime, judging by the white moonlight that filters through the nearby window. The welcome mat squishes between his toes as he swings open the door.

Zayn stands in the hall. His face is red with anger. He's wearing some dark skinnies and a tank top with the club's logo sprawled across the chest. He has a duffel bag thrown over his shoulder with his golden thong peeking through the pocket, and Harry assumes he's just returned from his shift. His body still glistens with oil and glitter.

"For fuck's sake, Rose," Zayn growls, punching Harry's shoulder. He doesn't react to the pain. He doesn't show any emotions, either. "I thought you were dead! Why haven't you showed up at work?"

Harry swallows the lump in his throat. He just shrugs.

"Are you on something?" Zayn worries, waving a hand in front of his face. "Your eyes are bloodshot. Have you been eating? You look like shit."

Harry's tongue feels dry. He never noticed it until now, but Zayn's blood smells really good. It's fiery and sweet at the same time. And his olive flesh looks incredibly soft, just begging to be bitten into. Harry stares at his neck and licks his lips. He craves the metallic taste of warm blood flooding into his mouth.

Thankfully, he still has some sort of conscious understanding that Zayn is his mate. He resists every instinct that tugs at his brain, telling him to suck his blood. He just stands there silently, staring, deep in a trance.

"Hello? Talk to me!" Zayn orders, stepping inside Harry's flat. He slams the door behind him. Harry doesn't react to the loud noise.

Harry doesn't mean to, but he accidentally slips out, "Louis." His voice is weak and vulnerable and cracks with exhaustion. All he can think about is Louis.

"What about Louis?" Zayn demands, poking his finger into Harry's chest. "Did that prick get you hooked on some sort of drug? Tell me!"

Of course his mind would drift to drugs. Harry feels like he's high, after all. He craves and desires and wants. He looks like he's an addict, too, with bags under his eyes and pale, chapped lips. He's going through a withdrawal, and the side-effects are driving him towards absolute insanity.

"Fuck," Zayn huffs out. "Fine, don't answer me. Just sit down."

He guides Harry towards his couch. Harry sits down cautiously, like his bones are made of glass. His nose twitches when Zayn leans over to help him. He smells so heavenly. No wonder his stage name is Angel.

"You haven't been to work in three days, and you won't answer your damn phone," Zayn complains, watching as Harry's glossy eyes stare off into the distance. "Liam is this close to firing your arse," he insists, pinching a bit of air between his fingers.

Harry leans his head backwards. His fingers scrape against the couch's worn-out fabric, squeezing slightly. He frowns at the idea of being fired. Despite all of this vampire bullshit, he genuinely loves his job.

Regardless, all he can say is, "Louis."

Zayn scoffs. "What the fuck is wrong with you?"

Harry just shakes his head, pinching his eyes shut. "Need Louis."

Zayn runs a hand down his face, clearly growing frustrated. He doesn't know what to do. He's never seen Harry like this— or anyone, for that matter.