Drawn Out Dreams. [A Zarry Fanfiction.]

Chapter Forty Four

"You're such a dopey twat, Hazz." Louis grumbled under his breath, loud enough for all the boys sat around the sofas to hear. Harry looked into the side of Louis' face, wondering what an earth he had done to receive that title from his best friend. He'd expect Liam to come out with that, but not Louis or Andy, atleast not that meaningful anyway.

"What I do?" Harry asked, his green eyes looking lost as he looked from Andy to Louis, and then into the two brown eyes that seemed to drag his gaze back everytime he pulled away.

Liam's brow was set in a long scowl, the small smile that had been on his face melting into the same unimpressed line as his brows. Liam made no movements. No words left his lips; he just sat diagonally across from Harry, watching the boy, waiting. His arms were folded, his biceps tugging on the white sleeves of his school white, his school tie a little loose, a result of being tugged on too quickly. Harry's was almost always in the same condition.

Harry swallowed deeply, his nose taking in a long, drawn out breath. He knew something bad was about to hit him, and he knew that he was going to pay for it. From the corner of his eye, he saw Andy Samuels looking into him, as if by staring at his mate he could transfer the missing information that Harry had not yet picked up on. Of course, no information was transferred. A side glance to Louis didn't help either.

In a quick effort to retreat the oncoming verbal bollocking that he was about to receive for something he typically would forget, Harry's mind scrambled to its happy place. He blinked, but his eyes reopened slowly, and early morning sunlight flooded into them. For a split second, time seemed to freeze around the curly haired lad, as he felt the comforting trail of fingertips go down his bare arms. The scent of his lover filled his nose, and he felt a pair of lips kiss the underside of his jaw tentatively, carefully, four fingertips trailing the inside of his palm, taking in every line before entwining the two together.

"Oi..." A silken whisper fluttered onto the small patch of skin under his ear, and he gave a slight shiver.

That was followed by a heavy hit to the back of his head. The impact flew his eyes open, his curls all falling forward around his face, and tickling his skin. He was no longer tucked up in the sofa bed with his love; he was back on the small sofas of the sixth form, his eyes stuck in a dying battle with Liam Payne's.

"Oi!" Louis repeated, rolling his eyes at his dopey friend. Harry looked into Louis' face, before it suddenly dawned on him. His nose twitched as it hit him, and he groaned, looking at the boy across from him apologetically.

"Liam, oh shit," Harry started, his fumbling words falling out before they could form themselves into some sort of answer.

"Save it, arsehole!" Liam snapped, grabbing his backpack and pulling it onto his lap, looking incredibly hurt. Harry's mouth slowly closed, as he sat completely ashamed of himself. He couldn't believe he did this, all his life he had made sure that he was a good friend to everyone as much as possible, he tried to be a good person, but he'd ended up missing, and completely forgetting his best friend's own birthday.

The morning that he and Zayn had first made that beautiful act was the morning of Liam Payne's birthday. If Liam ever found out, shit would hit the fan; or more realistically, Harry would be thrown violently into the fan by his Hulk-like best friend.

"I know that we might have had a rocky few months, but even a text would have been acceptable, but you forgot even that." Liam spat, as he shoved a textbook into his bag and stood up. He looked down at Harry with two watery brown eyes.

"I really like you, Harry, and the little things like this are what hurt the most." Liam barely whispered, as if the rest of the teenage boys in the common room weren't there. For a moment, it felt like only Liam and Harry were in the room. Harry's feet pushed him upwards.