[{Final book in the Zayn Malik Sickfic series}]
It's been another year. The boys have been extremely busy working on their fifth album. Now that it's finally finished they can't wait for this little break to be over. Zayn can't wait to see his boys...
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The cold is numbing. It might sting our skin, turn our noses pink and give shivers to our bodies. But in the end, it numbs us.
Zayn was sitting on the sofa in his room, looking out the window. He'd been there since morning after Louis fell asleep, just looking out on the snow capped neighborhood. He'd brought a blanket with him and was snuggled under it with one of the books that had been placed in the room. The title was 'Solitude and Magnitude'.,It was quite dark and gloomy in contrast of other books he read in the break, but the difference was somehow welcoming.
His hair was growing longer day by day and now covered his frozen ears. He was starting to grow a stubble again, but Zayn didn't mind. Despite wearing a sweatshirt, the cold managed to seep in, causing goosebumps to rise on his neck and shoulders. His feet were the only body part that were warm, tucked in his socks deep down in the blanket.
Nobody seemed to be awake, but he wasn't exactly sure. It was 11 a.m and the girls had probably already left for school. The boys were asleep and so was his mother since no one came to check up on him. And after last night's horrible nightmare, Zayn could only imagine what decisions they were taking. What conversations they had on his behalf and how many agreed on sending him to the counselor.
He wasn't in need of help. He hadn't slept properly in days, so no dreams had come his way. But when he finally relaxed into his bed, they decided to come back. What he needed was his subconscious to stop being so jumpy and stop thinking he was going to be attacked at any minute. He wasn't. The situation was under control.
I hope so, he thought bitterly. Because with these people, you never knew. Deep inside, he was still afraid they might be lying to reassure him.
His thoughts were a swirling mess in his head, the words on the page forgotten. At some point, the door must have opened because Harry creeped inside. He slammed the window shut, rubbing his arms. He looked sleepy with the messy hair and the sleep wrinkles on his face.
"Good morning," Zayn drawled, feeling too tired to even speak louder. Harry motioned for him to move over on the sofa that was meant for one person, and somehow managed to squeeze in, pulling the blanket up to his chin.
"Do you have no body heat?" he asked, teeetch chattering as he tangled his cold bare feet with Zayn's. Zayn pulled his legs away, wanting to keep the little warmth he had.
"What are you doing up so early?" Zayn asked, referring to early as in early for the boys. And Harry didn't wake up till one a.m.
"Niall left the window open," he explained, half his face covered by the duvet. "Wondered if Louis had come back, and he hadn't so I came here. Thought you would be asleep, not trying to transform the room into Siberia."
Zayn couldn't help but crack a smile at his tone. "Come on, it's not that cold."
Harry looked at him as if he was crazy. He reached forward and grabbed Zayn's hand, his hand warm in his.
